tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-65776325673718093762024-03-05T09:28:50.308-08:00L.J. and Kat Holmes Challenge ShakespeareMove Over Shakespeare...The Holmes Girls Are Here To Stay!Linhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13866209826449646004noreply@blogger.comBlogger45125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6577632567371809376.post-66650033214176895982013-10-29T14:53:00.005-07:002013-10-29T16:06:10.491-07:00IS BILLY SHAKESPEARE REALLY A VAMPIRE? INQUIRING MINDS WANT TO KNOW<br />
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" width="400" /><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Happy Halloween Everyone.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">As you can see, I, L.J. Holmes dressed as a feathery prism. I figured since I have this reputation by some of being a prism I should see if I could DRESS the part.</span><br />
<img height="250" src="http://cdn01.wallconvert.com/_media/wallpapers_1280x800/1/1/dispersing-prism-on-grunge-eagle-2279.jpg" width="400" /><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">What do you think? Did I make it? Not sure if I'm a colorful eagle or a tie-dyed pea-hen.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">But I KNOW you recognize KAT'S brilliant costume...</span><br />
<img height="351" src="data:image/jpeg;base64,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" width="400" /><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Yep. you're right. She's so smart she's a walking brain.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Kat and I are dressed in our most intriguing costumes because good old Billy Shakespeare, you know, </span><br />
<img height="400" src="http://fc09.deviantart.net/fs70/f/2012/110/3/4/goblin_costume_by_strg_alt_entf-d4wynsh.jpg" width="276" /><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">THE long past his due date,BARD, sent word via </span><br />
<img height="205" src="https://encrypted-tbn3.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcRa-QCPpDYtkIycHi-_UzrOo6GqpzPnSNpSBQSNdGTJoOMiHOgEgA" width="400" /><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Land Trolls he wanted to rise up and challenge L.J. and Kat Holmes to another "Prose-off." But don't quote me on that...You know how reliable Land Trolls are as messengers.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Back to good OLD Billy, you gotta feel sorry for a guy who spends most of his time playing tag with </span><br />
<img height="224" src="https://encrypted-tbn3.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcQrVLv0U1gBXTuU6iCluKMXrg-Q_LF6u2eEP7YAHKqBtMcQsEzo2w" width="400" /><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">earth worms and still thinks he's up to the challenges Kat and I put forth upon his magnificence ..Yeah, yeah, yeah, I got a little...prosaic...there, but I must make poor Deader Than A Door Nail</span><br />
<img height="323" src="https://encrypted-tbn2.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcS8Hfm87jCiC-B28v-deQRWwCTfKBGkXfJ9PDnLd3BeCHGsxZLE" width="400" /><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Billy Shakespeare feel a little bit at home before Kat and I reduce him back to his moldering state of </span><br />
<img height="277" src="https://encrypted-tbn3.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcQ49YSbOusGc--jfWORVUb-x1zT4QFiE5scOqyxcIBkDWPm4ohhGg" width="400" /><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">over-inflated bone-dust.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Okay, look sharp, here he is. </span><br />
<img height="400" src="https://encrypted-tbn1.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcTs9C6FYdnajEMP45SThXhyr1EZWzjhlgXb_LuehJR-9gdevslf" width="271" /><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Hey Billy, looking spiffy today...a bit peaked, but other than that...I must say I love all your points. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">(Whispering so he won't hear,<span style="color: blue;"><b> L.J.</b></span> leans over to Kat and asks...did you see what I saw...fangs?...Kat shrugged.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="color: blue;">L.J.</span></b> I have to ask the obvious question based on how...refined you look in those pantaloons, are you here to celebrate Halloween?</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #b45f06;"><b>B.S.</b></span> What's Halloween? Are you talking about that holiday where people go all elaborate living out their fantasies by playing at looking like someone...or someTHING else? What are you wearing, by the way?</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: blue;"><b>L.J.</b></span> I'm a prismatic Eagle or spectacular pea-hen, and Kat is a Walking Brain.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #b45f06;"><b>B.S</b></span>. (shaking his head) And they say corpse's have no life!</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: blue;"><b>L.J. </b></span>That's just plain mean. Okay if you're not here to celebrate the holiday of all things ghoulish, why are you here?</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><b>K.H.</b></span> I hate to be rude, B.S. but if I turn my head this way, you almost look like a vampire.</span><br />
<img height="289" src="https://encrypted-tbn0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcRZleQpXDoHbu8TXV_sHrlFDk0Wv3VJk-ct6vdVwzwmM5P7c-mq" width="400" /><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #b45f06;"><b>B.S.</b></span> Ooops! Did my fangs show? And after all the Fang-Be-Gone I had Igor, Eyegor, and Itzsore buff into them. Can't trust hunchbacks to get anything right.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: blue;"><b>L.J.</b></span> I knew it. I knew it all along. I told Kat long ago anyone who could write a tale like the one no one will mention the name of before performing it, has to have been a vampire with a virulent case of witch envy. Such a person <i>must </i>be from the dark side.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #b45f06;"><b>B.S</b></span>. (chuckling) Close, but not quite true.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="color: #741b47;">K.H.</span></b> You're NOT a vampire?</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #b45f06;"><b>B.S.</b></span> Not everything with fangs is a blood sucker, but I do know a few O negative-a-holics. Let me just go ahead and tell you guys why I wanted to visit right now, okay?</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">There's a rumor going around the Underworld...don't laugh we do have our version of Western Union...Back to the rumor...Is it true Kat, you have been approached by my favorite kinky, dark loving goddess to report to the world the TRUTH about...(<span style="color: #783f04;"><b>B.S</b></span>. carefully and nervously looks all around before leaning in to <i>whisper</i>)...</span><br />
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" width="400" /><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>Hekate' Web?</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="color: #741b47;">K.H. </span></b>WOW! I'm being talked about by the Underground?</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #b45f06;"><b>B.S.</b></span> Not just talked about...oh my, you're their/OUR hero and word is out you're about to let Book Two loose of the ongoing Hekate's intensely coveted vamp and demonic archives on the <gulp> living world.</span><br />
<img height="400" src="data:image/jpeg;base64,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" width="310" /><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">In fact someone, we think maybe a water demon, copied some unauthorized posters of your cover and they're hanging everywhere down below. </span><br />
<img src="https://museithotpublishing.com/images/stories/virtuemart/product/seeker-medium.jpg" /><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">And what a cover/poster SEEKER is? I personally am in love with Edeline. What a woman! Love her lips. But don't tell Atu I said that. He's a scary dude and I try to stay on his c-o-o-o-o-l-l-l side. Safer that way.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Back to Edeline, Atu, and you, Kat. All of your deeply loyal fans keeping time Down-Sliding in the seas of...well happy brine want to know everything you can tell us, especially when we can get our hands on it? That Edeline chick...I so want to sleep with her book beneath my rock pillow...bet it can make my rock, rumble!</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Can you tell I'm all a-quiver? I've got GOOSEBUMPS. Have you any idea how long its been since I had goosebumps? </span><br />
<img src="http://wanderingwomanwondering.files.wordpress.com/2011/06/hekate-goddess-of-the-underworld.jpg" /><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I tried to contact Hekate and ask her, but she sent me a </span><br />
<img height="280" src="https://encrypted-tbn0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcSiS7zGmJmJhwrnkRc1K4ezFzsCp48LB9-KKnS8ldOcRo_GwJ17NWlWzSfd" width="400" /><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">dirt devil with the message to come here and ask you...so here I am...Tell me about SEEKER.</span><br />
<img src="https://museithotpublishing.com/images/stories/virtuemart/product/seeker-medium.jpg" /><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><b>K.H.</b></span> You already know it's book two in the Hekate's Web Series. It pretty much picks up where HIDDEN left off.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #b45f06;"><b>B.S.</b></span> (nodding his head.) Oh yeah. That Lilith is quite a knockout, but Edeline...hubba hubba! That woman tugs my dusty bowstrings. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: blue;"><b>L.J.</b></span> (nodding) It's a powerful story, <span style="color: #b45f06;"><b>B.S.</b></span> Kat did an exceptional job channeling Hekate's archives. You do know Atu and Edeline are on an important quest, commanded by Hekate, right?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #b45f06;"><b>B.S.</b></span> Oooh oooh, oooh. Can I be what they're questing for? I know Muse It Up Publishing keeps dredging up that harlot </span><br />
<img height="347" src="https://encrypted-tbn1.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcTOX2Ku3gWg7O_lAxzRMlrZmvuKNZzFg6ZYvQkJ-QdSPStB0rru" width="400" /><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Bonella...so how about letting Edeline dredge up me?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><b>K.H.</b></span> (skeptically) Are you <i>sure</i> you know Atu?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #b45f06;"><b>B.S.</b></span> Well hell. everyone needs some...pungent competition, and there are very few more pungent than me. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: blue;"><b>L.J.</b></span> (wrinkling her nose.) You sure have<i> that</i> right, but Hekate's already approved Kat's telling of SEEKER the way it is. The whole idea is to let the world know who REALLY is the creator of vampires. She's kinda pissed about all the fake stories being bandied around about HER inventions.</span><br />
<img src="https://museithotpublishing.com/images/stories/virtuemart/product/seeker-medium.jpg" /><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #b45f06;"><b>B.S. </b></span>Not fair. I can be just as scary as Atu, so when are you going to bring me into Hekate's Web?</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><b>K.H.</b></span> I'm really sorry, Billy. I can't speak for Hekate. She's the one who makes these decisions. Maybe you should fly to Mount Olympus and spend time presenting your case to her.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #b45f06;"><b>B.S.</b></span> (wincing) She doesn't like it when her ghouls, demons, and vamps pop in on the Mount. We get such a sermon..and trust me Hekate puts quite a spin on giving sermons on her mount.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: blue;"><b>L.J</b></span>. Kat, why don't you let him read the back cover of your book, and maybe add a little bit of a teaser?</span><br />
<img height="300" src="https://encrypted-tbn3.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcQgCta04FOJ69McDOSEFXjBZFM2cHFvfsXDxPurCOHYOq5WiQImAA" width="400" /><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #b45f06;"><b>B.S.</b></span> (fairly jumping like a bunny on a carrot high) Oh...please, please, please? And could I take it back with me to the Underworld? What a hero <i>I'll</i> be, and I can make all my under buds rise up on the day it's released and glam our humans into buying it. When is it coming out, by the way. You didn't say.</span><br />
<img src="https://museithotpublishing.com/images/stories/virtuemart/product/seeker-medium.jpg" /><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><b>K.H</b></span>. <a href="https://museithotpublishing.com/index.php/coming-soon/seeker-detail">SEEKER</a> the sequel to </span><br />
<img alt="Hidden_4fbada46dd797.jpg" src="https://museithotpublishing.com/images/stories/virtuemart/product/Hidden_4fbada46dd797.jpg" /><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://museithotpublishing.com/index.php/museitup/fantasy/urban-fantasy/hidden-detail">HIDDEN</a> is coming out from MUSE IT UP PUBLISHING on Friday November 1st.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #b45f06;"><b>B.S.</b></span> PERFECT...all saints day when ghouls and saints get to break through the barriers of life and death. Great day for haunting all those who don't buy your book....</span><br />
<img height="162" src="https://encrypted-tbn0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcRCgP6FO_PS8o7C6r-1rCaP_CZwJzP82VsZNrI6QDs-2nyFF_0olA" width="400" /><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">willingly.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><b>K.H.</b></span> From your lips to Hekate's ears!</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: blue;"><b>L.J.</b></span> Come on Kat, let's go get Billy the teasers. We'll be right back.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #b45f06;"><b>B.S.</b></span> Cool. I'll just practice some of my best lines while you're gone. {actively clearing his parched throat.} </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">To be, or not to be...I lstill like that question!</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Something's Rotten in the State of Denmark...God that Hamlet really was a bit of a whiner!</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">O Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo....That Juliet...blinder than a bat.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><b>K.H.</b></span> We're back!</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #b45f06;"><b>B.S. </b></span>Good. I was getting tired of the idiots I created. Is this it? Gimmee, gimmee, gimmee! </span><br />
<img height="400" src="data:image/jpeg;base64,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" width="310" /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Oh </span><span style="font-size: large;">Yeah, I am so gonna to out do that water demon when I get this back home. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Thanks girls, and Kat if you don't get big sales, me and my buds are going to set off such a stinking world wide haunt-fest, people'll run to the nearest e-seller.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: blue;"><b>L.J</b></span>. That's sweet of you, Billy. And you know, if either of us get a chance to speak with Hekate any time soon, we'll run the idea by her about writing your underworld story.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #b45f06; font-weight: bold;">B.S. </span>Awww.<b style="color: #b45f06;"> </b>If I weren't already dead I'd be blushing. I guess I'd better get back and prepare myself for the hero-worship. You two take good care...until next time.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: blue;"><b>L.J.</b></span> Thanks Billy. </span><br />
<b style="color: #741b47; font-size: x-large;">K.H.</b><span style="font-size: large;"> As always, it was fun.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: blue;"><b>L.J. </b></span>Well see you soon. </span><br />
<img src="https://museithotpublishing.com/images/stories/virtuemart/product/seeker-medium.jpg" /><br />
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<span style="color: maroon;"><strong><span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Back Cover</span></span></strong></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Atu is an ancient warrior and vampire long in the service of his king. He has no desire for home or family. But when the Goddess Hekate tasks him with finding an ancient artefact before his enemies do, he is forced to enlist the aid of a woman who drives him crazy.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Edeline Comstock has the sight and has been cursed and reviled for it by her family. When she finds herself under attack from a monster, a dark and dangerous man is her only salvation, or he might be her destruction.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Forced to aid Atu, time is running out to uncover the secrets of the past. But a far greater danger stalks Edeline, one from which there may be no return.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: maroon;"><strong><span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Excerpt</span></span></strong></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 24px;"><span style="font-size: large;">The face that stared back at her was wan and haggard. How she hated days like this. The past couple of weeks had been rougher than usual and the stress and strain just added to her already existing problems. God, she was sick of problems.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: #fafafa; color: #666666; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 10px; padding: 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 24px;"><span style="font-size: large;">Edeline Comstock was tired. And what was worse, she knew already, as she always did, that her day wasn’t nearly over. Nope, like it or not, she’d call. That damn news article had seen to that. There’d be no avoiding Stephanie’s ranting rage even though Edeline really wasn’t up for it.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 24px;"><span style="font-size: large;">At least she no longer lived with the bitch. Once she’d turned eighteen she’d inherited her mother’s fortune. She hadn’t even waited till her father and stepmother returned from Europe before she rented a townhouse. She’d packed her things and left her brother and sister in the care of their nanny without a second thought. Wyatt and Courtney didn’t like her any more than her stepmother did thanks to Stephanie’s so-called nurturing over the years.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i><span style="line-height: 24px;">Freaky, weird, scarecrow, beanpole. </span></i><span style="line-height: 24px;">She’d heard all those insults and many others over the years. Her stepmother created a few more choice insults to call her when the words everyone used failed to fully express the total scope of Stephanie’s hatred. It didn’t help that as her father climbed the political ladder, he withdrew more and more from any role in Edeline’s upbringing, allowing Stephanie unhampered control over her.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>Linhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13866209826449646004noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6577632567371809376.post-34269414998899213972013-04-29T04:00:00.000-07:002013-05-26T21:22:31.566-07:00Scrambled Willie Shakespeare and We<span style="font-size: large;">We must beg forgiveness of our loyal followers. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><img height="327" id="il_fi" sb_id="ms__id2043" src="http://www.lafamily.com/sites/default/files/imagecache/300_Wide/shakespeare_cartoon_2_2.jpeg" style="padding-bottom: 8px; padding-right: 8px; padding-top: 8px;" width="300" /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Willie Shakespeare has been a truly musky, as in he's dropping bone dust everywhere he drifts, making me sneeze and giving poor Kat serial sinus infections, person. We had to invest in </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><img alt="" class="rg_hi uh_hi" data-height="194" data-width="259" height="194" id="rg_hi" sb_id="ms__id3998" src="https://encrypted-tbn0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcTJCkHBlogLpIfPKWi1F_hdHuDzNs7FT11fwlxQ5FmceEceL82M" style="height: 194px; width: 259px;" width="259" /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">gas masks...and YES, the BARD is that bad.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">But moving on...we all know Willie is mighty proud of his rather bizarre </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><img alt="" class="rg_hi uh_hi" data-height="190" data-width="265" height="190" id="rg_hi" sb_id="ms__id4775" src="https://encrypted-tbn1.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcS2dGUyhwgRtrL4h6xjWkQ21cPKMWjYwJDMq4C-KVpDMBpv0TCz" style="height: 190px; width: 265px;" width="265" /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM, but Kat and I have in our arsenal our second collaboration </span><br />
<span style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; font-size: small; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img height="500" id="il_fi" src="http://museituppublishing.com/bookstore2/components/com_virtuemart/shop_image/product/One_Night_Stud_50fc21a109f24.jpg" style="padding-bottom: 8px; padding-right: 8px; padding-top: 8px;" width="333" /></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">ONE NIGHT STUD.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Allow me to explain...our poor hero has to find his one true forever love in just one night and convince her he's not just a slam bam thank you ma'am kinda guy...problem is, up till this night, that's exactly what he's been. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Willie went into quite a tantrum. Let me refresh your memory on how he dresses...</span><br />
<span style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; font-size: small; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img height="405" id="il_fi" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQBKAxz4GSuBTsklW1oQNbxjEIb_7u6r4H3VAM2uoLEysyTIxcgO3GUdDVEP8lr6vD2fvurB-syswCtWjiZScHRCgYlEWMK7xbYsBXbgPbl8Z4trgOwKk5ST281AH-ROkUF8JHhvXtntY/s1600/shakespeare.jpg" style="padding-bottom: 8px; padding-right: 8px; padding-top: 8px;" width="300" /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">...see...when he throws a tantrum, dressed like this, he looks like a ticked off cupcake trying really hard to jettison his chocolate icing top. Into this comedic rant he starts yelping "Remember Hamlet, Remember Hamlet."</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I like "To be and not to be" as well as the next person, but let's face it...when you strip away all the folderol it boils down to Hamlet being haunted by his daddy's ghost and his uncle porking his mom. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Kat's </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><img alt="" aria-busy="true" aria-describedby="fbPhotosSnowliftCaption" class="spotlight" height="500" src="https://sphotos-b.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash3/41108_137825269596109_5940952_n.jpg" style="height: 500px; width: 333px;" width="333" /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">THE LIGHTHOUSE may not be an EXACT duplicate, but with a ghost haunting her niece, murder all afoot, and a towering lighthouse for ambiance, it's close. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">My story </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><img alt="" aria-busy="true" aria-describedby="fbPhotosSnowliftCaption" class="spotlight" height="500" src="https://sphotos-a.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-prn1/47758_137826412929328_7772680_n.jpg" style="height: 500px; width: 333px;" width="333" /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">TWILIGHT COMES has a lot of family dysfunction in it, and Hamlet definitely comes from a dysfunctional family. In mine an entire family must face the crashing power of the waves of their own deeds ripping them all apart. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Oh boy oh boy, bet you didn't know Willie knows some really elegant curse words. Are my ear lobes red? They feel hot, like they're burning from the words Willie's snaping at us. In fact, I think Kat might just faint. Words are mighty powerful weapons in the right hands and let's face it this Bard dude has very creative hands.</span><br />
<img class="rg_i" data-sz="f" name="SLVrTNHsYiKRNM:" sb_id="ms__id9901" src="https://encrypted-tbn3.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcTcUSZQOF_nUkWzOpgh2ESkEUpWSx0MFHQJggUAdGykPNZUZ52k" style="height: 149px; margin-left: 0px; margin-top: 0px; width: 142px;" /><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">ROMEO AND JULIET...The Bard is screeching...A love story he proclaims...HUH? They end up committing suicide. How is that romantic? Their families push them over the edge because of some harebrained feudal feud. Romantic?</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Kat's Artica Lights Series </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><img alt="" aria-busy="true" aria-describedby="fbPhotosSnowliftCaption" class="spotlight" height="500" src="https://sphotos-b.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-prn1/59085_137826012929368_7350188_n.jpg" style="height: 500px; width: 333px;" width="333" /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Book One FROZEN with Awni the queen of Artica, (If you look really hard you can see the lights) her skin so bitterly cold a touch from her means instant death, and how criminals are executed...but she's so alone...until...Brent...the lights bring him to Artica...and he doesn't die when Awni accidentally touches him...in fact he feels passionate heat...and thus the Queen marries her consort...romance...yeah...THAT'S romance...</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Book two of this series </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><img alt="" aria-busy="true" aria-describedby="fbPhotosSnowliftCaption" class="spotlight" height="500" src="https://sphotos-b.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-snc7/10469_476435882401711_1506973753_n.jpg" style="height: 500px; width: 333px;" width="333" /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">REFLECTIONS OF ICE (Can you see the lights in this one?) Elric, Awni's right hand man, and the man who raised her sees in his mirror of vision of beauty that calls to him...He's crazy...no one sees such images in their mirrors, and if they do, they can't hope to ever have the real image here in Artica...But one day it happens...Romance...not easy to win...but with the lights?...maybe?</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">My own </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><img alt="" aria-busy="true" aria-describedby="fbPhotosSnowliftCaption" class="spotlight" height="500" src="https://sphotos-b.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-prn1/46711_137825512929418_4115049_n.jpg" style="height: 500px; width: 333px;" width="333" /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">FOREVER WITH YOU, Coryne </span> <span style="font-size: large;">is very drawn to Keith, but she fights it...until...the surprise ending...Romance</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><img height="380" id="il_fi" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgTZgQSICBOquMwFwPhP-y3oIKt0W-c91hM6z7QcWCOP_i28UG_Ej723epnesmrIrz57dj6TqRDNja-zEaJNKeLHheegi3hV7rkaC_mmm1y3zEPDKvNXP6CAxf230raWCWLk7mAP8kWyaD/s380/HerLastDay_333X500.jpg" style="padding-bottom: 8px; padding-right: 8px; padding-top: 8px;" width="253" /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">HER LAST DAY the first collaboration of Kat and me...how can the eruption of Vesuvius and the destruction of Pompeii be romantic? But it is?</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Mr. Shakespeare is pissed. He says we're cheating. Somehow we must be copying his work. SO I dared him to read my story </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiR6fxSd8yNs893PBJrVa7DRiWF42zbv60ENHM_SXiH8zu0RP3KP216bvz9y9O3eabNdNxlSWICfbUjdL5hFv-WD54S4aHIS8bK-hayMmjitQd78SK1a_F25jHAN2IbYqfXXPZ581Bsmhe/s1600/sucu_333X500.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiR6fxSd8yNs893PBJrVa7DRiWF42zbv60ENHM_SXiH8zu0RP3KP216bvz9y9O3eabNdNxlSWICfbUjdL5hFv-WD54S4aHIS8bK-hayMmjitQd78SK1a_F25jHAN2IbYqfXXPZ581Bsmhe/s320/sucu_333X500.JPG" width="213" ya="true" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">SUC-U...and he did...He's still stuttering and red around his gills...</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"> <img alt="" class="rg_hi uh_hi" data-height="183" data-width="275" height="183" id="rg_hi" sb_id="ms__id12971" src="https://encrypted-tbn1.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcTiYAT5vkbhkrmI6zPBZguT86RK5x1xt3SAxOmIdYi6KOJQ2n36" style="height: 183px; width: 275px;" width="275" /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I think we have once again one-upped the Bard. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">This is Lin, writing as L.J. Holmes, and Kat Holmes signing off...for now.</span>Linhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13866209826449646004noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6577632567371809376.post-73710967573118512252013-01-05T10:14:00.000-08:002013-05-26T21:09:46.024-07:00TO BE CONCUSSED OR NOT TO BE CONCUSSED...THAT IS THE QUESTION<span style="font-size: large;">Today is not my usual posting in the ongoing dialogue Kat and I have been having with a rather musty smelling William Shakespeare. Today's posting has nothing to do with the race between Kat and me, and </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><img height="400" id="il_fi" src="http://wirdou.files.wordpress.com/2012/11/william-shakespear.jpg" style="padding-bottom: 8px; padding-right: 8px; padding-top: 8px;" width="299" /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Mr. Shakes "pear" </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><img height="514" id="il_fi" src="http://25.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_m9w1aqMfCG1qz6f9yo1_r2_500.jpg" style="padding-bottom: 8px; padding-right: 8px; padding-top: 8px;" width="462" /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Nope today is about my luck and why I think I want to stop being lucky. Who'd want to proceed when the luck they get leans rather heavily to the </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><img height="400" id="il_fi" src="http://reubinations.files.wordpress.com/2011/09/bad-luck-all-of-it.jpg" style="padding-bottom: 8px; padding-right: 8px; padding-top: 8px;" width="324" /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">BAD side? </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Yesterday, I almost fell three times...the fourth time though, was </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><img height="199" id="il_fi" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4LONf50_6o2BE4u_pC9GC_lUBJZbNTgo8vIs4OXoIQwkffgUV9Et2Hfv49T9l1TzWO_XSq9LmWhc9KTtSlxCfhtK4puiIsUz3Pdfxyk0nVT_9gkYMFTXQKxR1dU9S-hu1ribl9Y7khA2z/s400/The+Charmer.jpg" style="padding-bottom: 8px; padding-right: 8px; padding-top: 8px;" width="400" /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">the charmer, down I went my head banging quite giddily against each </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><img height="300" id="il_fi" src="http://www.split-rok.com/images/stamped-concrete-steps-nj/stamped-concrete-steps-07.jpg" style="padding-bottom: 8px; padding-right: 8px; padding-top: 8px;" width="400" /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">concrete step and the rest of me bruising and scraping despite the thicker winter clothes I was wearing. I must admit my body is now a rather impressive artist's rendering of </span><span style="font-size: large;">black and blue...(blue IS my favorite color...not sure THIS shade of blue falls into that category.) Gashes...Boy Howdy do I have my share of them. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Why is it when you fall everyone wants to call an </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><img height="255" id="il_fi" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcLmsyFjJ3vTX2wMlBeh6XG_Hn8oSTFah8aCbqQlIRNgh2B2zF4iNVK3_eYQtalrrFBJIRnxyb6guCPB9VeAjaKc8HY0WVCh1qaOpBDPfOCSHAo1hSAxwSw7DF761hVsIirMmVQ9HDIZI/s400/ambulance.gif" style="padding-bottom: 8px; padding-right: 8px; padding-top: 8px;" width="400" /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">ambulance for you? Let's suppose I said "yes"...</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">how the hell am I supposed to get home? I know there are people out there who'd leap at the chance to go to the hospital, so why is it</span><span style="font-size: large;"><img height="333" id="il_fi" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWh8W3bhJmkLv2_9vBVTb5aTXSRa1UjmXJRMYCFkVk54rQvH5F9IzSJM3kFVebBz05sRyaWdDMBfqLXzv_rOC1LG6f74yeQchyphenhyphen5Fiu40dFtEQo_EIiebilMzvc-MHvEMQ97kNx3EVztS8/s400/vidya+sury+hypochondria.jpg" style="padding-bottom: 8px; padding-right: 8px; padding-top: 8px;" width="345" /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">they play invalid until they can</span><span style="font-size: large;">'t stretch their infirmary any longer, but not me? Compared to things my ex did to me, this is a bandaid booboo. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Okay, my gut is churning. I ate a handful of crackers...</span><span style="font-size: large;">I was pregnant four times with five babies so I KNOW about nausea and crackers...also you can't take Naproxen 500mg on an empty stomach unless your suicidal and crazy enough to want to meet your maker after letting your stomach burst and bleed out...Personally, I think I'll pass on that.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Anyway, </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><img height="400" id="il_fi" src="http://gallery.photo.net/photo/1824744-lg.jpg" style="padding-bottom: 8px; padding-right: 8px; padding-top: 8px;" width="246" /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">down the hatch...I figure I've got about fifteen, twenty minutes before I begin rambling from the effects of the meds. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I've checked my head...no obvious broken skin, but the whole left side of my head is sore and a tad swollen. I'm assuming since I know who I am...Ladybug Lin at your service...I know today's date...okay...that's a bit of a stretch but I rarely know today's date...so I can't put a check mark on the concussed side..but I CAN check the bottom of my screen and pull up the info like that! It's Saturday, January 5th...(my ex-husband's birthday is July 5th, and my personal Independence Day...((divorce))...is December 5th...yep, just celebrated 29 years of emancipation.)</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Crackers and the promethazine are finally settling the churning fury inside my gut...and that also means I can finally take the pain meds and not have to worry about bringing them right back up...much like that mutuant germ bug on the Mucinex commercials. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">You know what is really weird? Thanks to the three bp meds and my promise to the doc not to forget to take them, I'd gotten my bp down to 132/82...until yesterday...It skyrocketed to 176/104...which leads me to think pain makes your blood pressure soar into the danger zone. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I was coming home from grocery shopping at the Super Walmart. I'd noticed they had bathing suits out for sale already...Kat and I live in an apartment complex with a pool that stays open 24/7 365 days a year...except for leap year then it's open one more day...isn't that convenient...and because we were limited on how many packages filled with out stuff we could afford to mail down here ahead of us when we moved...neither of us have a bathing suit. I'd like to say my mind was swirling around the possiblity of finding enough money after the bills are all paid to buy two bathing suits. I'd really like to say that...but I can't. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I think it comes down to one fact...my right leg began burning and gave out. I reached for the bannister, but it was too late. So today I am scrambled Ladybug Lin not so readily at your service, and one crawling mass of pain.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The timing for me to be this </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><img height="300" id="il_fi" src="http://uploads.askapache.com/2008/04/bad_robot.png" style="padding-bottom: 8px; padding-right: 8px; padding-top: 8px;" width="224" /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">bad could have been better..but at least I avoided the hospital...that's a </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><img alt="graphic" border="0" height="192" src="http://www.justanswer.com/uploads/Edward67/2007-12-17_180041_50_bill.jpg" width="420" /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">fifty dollar co-pay I can ill afford to pay. Besides, I know what a concussion feels like...one of the many charming things my ex did to me was take my head and repeatedly slam it into the kitchen floor...trust me...THAT was worse than this...BUT I do think I should lay down for a bit...(the pain meds are kicking in and I am beginning to think I should sing...trust me singing is NOT one of my talents.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><img alt="" class="rg_hi uh_hi" data-height="183" data-width="275" height="266" id="rg_hi" sb_id="ms__id49710" src="https://encrypted-tbn2.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcRISgnUwOFoovs3GLmDtpQ7BR0DZg87c7pJRVP1W4gsT6x0oTS2TQ" style="height: 183px; width: 275px;" width="400" /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">NAP TIME!</span>Linhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13866209826449646004noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6577632567371809376.post-68312332100810896602012-12-02T11:14:00.002-08:002012-12-02T11:14:18.783-08:004-for-1 You NEVER got that Willie Shakspeare<span style="font-size: large;">Okay Billy, The world loves you,</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><img height="187" id="il_fi" src="http://myshakespeare.worldshakespearefestival.org.uk/wp-content/uploads/2012/08/billy-blog0005-334x187.png" style="padding-bottom: 8px; padding-right: 8px; padding-top: 8px;" width="334" /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">but I KNOW </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2qQAaehJOHcYyLCStJuAf1dYeHgRRpZY2LcNB6_257O83XEXvIAoktXu8zD_sRv9Anka7NS9xqHP6btPNyrccs3EbrsajTuW-jAF_Udh_Rpo5oi2Ng5BKHCEIz4b72Zvva2jg9-RKB2mT/s1600/Kat_Holmes__Author_Icon.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2qQAaehJOHcYyLCStJuAf1dYeHgRRpZY2LcNB6_257O83XEXvIAoktXu8zD_sRv9Anka7NS9xqHP6btPNyrccs3EbrsajTuW-jAF_Udh_Rpo5oi2Ng5BKHCEIz4b72Zvva2jg9-RKB2mT/s1600/Kat_Holmes__Author_Icon.png" tea="true" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Kat Holmes has one-upped you today.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">You may have scratched out a lot of </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><img alt="" class="rg_hi uh_hi" data-height="197" data-width="256" height="197" id="rg_hi" src="https://encrypted-tbn3.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcR3NxcMllk6CqHXLip1C8kJ1Gkxt0YB7K4EcXlvaHxkzts07J0VTQ" style="height: 197px; width: 256px;" width="256" /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">LONG-IN-THE-TOOTH tales, I KNOW you never had a </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><img alt="" class="rg_hi uh_hi" data-height="145" data-width="162" height="145" id="rg_hi" src="https://encrypted-tbn3.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcS0U3_bT85-WxtOapWJVuwd7KEnjxjZwIitGyEZhHoocKVxAsNs" style="height: 145px; width: 162px;" width="162" /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">4-for-1 sale on ANY of your offerings...so I may still be a </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><img alt="" class="rg_hi uh_hi" data-height="228" data-width="221" height="228" id="rg_hi" src="https://encrypted-tbn2.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcS-KtnudwNudHTeVKjnuLn7C_9jk5HnRayb88QDiWR8LZUoHNVb" style="height: 228px; width: 221px;" width="221" /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">BIG QUESTION MARK in this head-to-head battle we are conducting, KAT is as of TODAY in the LEAD!</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><img alt="" class="rg_hi uh_hi" data-height="259" data-width="194" height="259" id="rg_hi" src="https://encrypted-tbn0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcT6Z2jkiDn4rO8RN2VAsVpPhwPsn-O9YEhOopxBLFNFvDHjFegk_A" style="height: 259px; width: 194px;" width="194" /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">How did she do it?</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Well over at </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><img alt="" class="rg_hi uh_hi" data-height="164" data-width="200" height="164" id="rg_hi" src="https://encrypted-tbn2.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcQhQsZljCwOH1YDAK5Qf8bAkehZWnosYaJs-ITzrcSWmuqXR25OHQ" style="height: 164px; width: 200px;" width="200" /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Muse It Up Publishing TODAY ONLY...</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><img height="256" id="il_fi" src="https://twimg0-a.akamaihd.net/profile_images/2684158572/661dd600899aee2c6b69060aabcf54ab.png" style="padding-bottom: 8px; padding-right: 8px; padding-top: 8px;" width="256" /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">FOUR of Kat's Gods At Work Series Books are being offered for sale at an unheard of </span><span style="font-size: large;">BARGAIN price...and JUST in time for </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><img alt="" class="rg_hi uh_hi" data-height="194" data-width="259" height="194" id="rg_hi" src="https://encrypted-tbn0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcRpWVYcDgCk12UH8I8Q_mGYsi8URfyDCFhjyrmISF_rR0adYL5-rQ" style="height: 194px; width: 259px;" width="259" /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Christmas too.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">How brilliant is that?</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Take a look at what Kat has waiting for eager readers of Godly and Goddessy delights.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieG_YLJ8qgc0ic53tFoB4RideBIl7P2W57-BCbAAv0rjKtqWwIZ8RvW8IX9ZvKYTzrBf1pqbzeKKw_TDuazGIW24ogXAnDugWDvHzYPLhgD2h3gDZEYAUtlctffBQMPEiWkF0GtW4FpyS1/s1600/crimsonwaters.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieG_YLJ8qgc0ic53tFoB4RideBIl7P2W57-BCbAAv0rjKtqWwIZ8RvW8IX9ZvKYTzrBf1pqbzeKKw_TDuazGIW24ogXAnDugWDvHzYPLhgD2h3gDZEYAUtlctffBQMPEiWkF0GtW4FpyS1/s320/crimsonwaters.jpg" tea="true" width="213" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Buy BOOK FOUR: <a href="http://museituppublishing.com/bookstore2/index.php?page=shop.product_details&flypage=flypage.tpl&product_id=440&category_id=58&option=com_virtuemart&Itemid=1">CRIMSON WATERS:</a> Poseidon's adventure...and trust me, the unique way Kat has the God of Water use his element to tease and please will make buying this package more than worthy of the price @ $3.50</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">With that purchase you will get </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUj4A8RPFZItnDTuVYMXpH3pvC4vW_ciRwyN92VhZi49oJpAO_LXO85Tyfz3Q-Hw9ho76vg1ARBzS1WXDUoNwfrWpkkNhWymbTqzNyOvh4xnmbEadLPLw0CvGKDn2VTGRLTHzBIBTjb-Xo/s1600/WORKING+UNDER+COVER.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUj4A8RPFZItnDTuVYMXpH3pvC4vW_ciRwyN92VhZi49oJpAO_LXO85Tyfz3Q-Hw9ho76vg1ARBzS1WXDUoNwfrWpkkNhWymbTqzNyOvh4xnmbEadLPLw0CvGKDn2VTGRLTHzBIBTjb-Xo/s320/WORKING+UNDER+COVER.jpg" tea="true" width="213" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Book One: <a href="http://museituppublishing.com/bookstore2/index.php?page=shop.product_details&flypage=flypage.tpl&product_id=171&category_id=9&keyword=Working+Under+Covers&option=com_virtuemart&Itemid=1">WORKING UNDER COVERS</a>, Aphrodite's Journey working here among us mortals while confronting danger, and one sexy cop. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG1hPbytoW5WQDqc-CQtPclmymsN-3uiZkrXJm5ClRCcZxS7MKU16K8EXjBkYxvtE8QAotwfoxEukH6_slYY7Km65grbnllGiIwbGV-YqXh_3j_ueO3BNZzs8aRWAIZyc8dGzWSQeDBgbm/s1600/Heart+of+the+Queen2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG1hPbytoW5WQDqc-CQtPclmymsN-3uiZkrXJm5ClRCcZxS7MKU16K8EXjBkYxvtE8QAotwfoxEukH6_slYY7Km65grbnllGiIwbGV-YqXh_3j_ueO3BNZzs8aRWAIZyc8dGzWSQeDBgbm/s1600/Heart+of+the+Queen2.jpg" tea="true" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Book Two: <a href="http://museituppublishing.com/bookstore2/index.php?page=shop.product_details&flypage=flypage.tpl&product_id=195&category_id=60&keyword=the+hEART+OF+THE+QUEEN&option=com_virtuemart&Itemid=1">HEART OF THE QUEEN</a>, Hera's story. If you thought you knew Hera, Queen of the Greek Pantheon, based on mythology, you were so wrong. This HOT lady gives new meaning to "Let Me Stroke Your Peacock."</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Book Three: <a href="http://museituppublishing.com/bookstore2/index.php?page=shop.product_details&flypage=flypage.tpl&product_id=310&category_id=60&option=com_virtuemart&Itemid=1">IN DEATH'S ARMS</a>, Hades' story. Would you eat pomegranate if it allowed you to spend eternity in the Underworld with one sexy God of Death?</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Everything you THINK you know about the </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><img alt="" class="rg_hi uh_hi" data-height="195" data-width="258" height="195" id="rg_hi" src="https://encrypted-tbn3.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcQNt5hGa8iMbx5mEpArEIQDSSVrCFmEG1pA2K7LlKnCsrQSzyZt" style="height: 195px; width: 258px;" width="258" /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Gods of the Greek Pantheon has been...embellished over the year...much like the children's Telegraph game...It started as truth but every teller altered it until today..Hera is a bitch, Aphrodite is a vain tease, Poseidon buries whole continents in his rage, and Hades plays Russian Roulette with the Elysian Fields and Tartarus.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Kat's series shows us their truth...TODAY'S Olympians and WOW are they...</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><img alt="" class="rg_hi uh_hi" data-height="189" data-width="267" height="189" id="rg_hi" src="https://encrypted-tbn0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcQq5v9fcoxlY_YjP9THJia7ivtVPnb5HfbSXReVrgBwvVP-RZSm" style="height: 189px; width: 267px;" width="267" /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">olympic!</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">So head on over to <a href="http://museituppublishing.com/index.php">MUSE IT UP PUBLISHING</a> and see why Santa dropped this bundle there and spice up your </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><img alt="" class="rg_hi uh_hi" data-height="177" data-width="284" height="177" id="rg_hi" src="https://encrypted-tbn2.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcSwktRf7Qww5qbdgwlO_R1sK5UzIizzl64k_30nP0Z8_C9AKQn0" style="height: 177px; width: 284px;" width="284" /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Holiday Cheer!</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><img alt="" class="rg_hi uh_hi" data-height="225" data-width="225" height="225" id="rg_hi" src="https://encrypted-tbn1.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcQPHVEeEJJB238YTRfxWOpcvgxh-xyO9BYNv6dMCkdAGGdLlPjq" style="height: 225px; width: 225px;" width="225" /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I'll see you over there!</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><img alt="" class="rg_hi uh_hi" data-height="222" data-width="227" height="222" id="rg_hi" src="https://encrypted-tbn2.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcT-j87Vhjc6u7f5ur0bwRC6wSbnwcUZCoEhO0tzSuqONp7getgO7A" style="height: 222px; width: 227px;" width="227" /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">And Merry, Merry Christmas To You All.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">And Billy, </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><img alt="" class="rg_hi uh_hi" data-height="190" data-width="265" height="190" id="rg_hi" src="https://encrypted-tbn1.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcSNCUnL7R2E8zbHSQylFO5KvK8KP8Wy5oueVN81knitAfu_QpAvkA" style="height: 190px; width: 265px;" width="265" /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">The battle continues.</span>Linhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13866209826449646004noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6577632567371809376.post-66605846336782019712012-10-31T13:11:00.000-07:002012-10-31T23:01:22.435-07:00WE COME TOGETHER AS ONE (Part Three) OR TAKE THAT BILLY<span style="font-size: large;">Word coming from the underground is </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><img height="397" id="il_fi" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoeRPQa9V3ozJJ1pSBwAcazW7OGAIMvZNVCv-7quB9Eibnws-wy8HSmNLKH88I0iTBaN_sViOAnBlv6sp_5EyLDfsX1ZqXrFl8GxhVmt4f89MJmytNnallAP25MpC7PhcBgH687j1QXR3g/s1600/shakespeare1.jpg" style="padding-bottom: 8px; padding-right: 8px; padding-top: 8px;" width="298" /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Billy Shakespeare is polishing off his TO BE's and he's casting out some really </span><span style="font-size: large;">ROTTEN STUFF FROM THE STATE OF DENMARK. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><img height="355" id="il_fi" src="http://imgc.allpostersimages.com/images/P-473-488-90/61/6148/ABEG100Z/posters/arnie-levin-if-you-think-something-is-rotten-in-the-state-of-denmark-press-one-now-cartoon.jpg" style="padding-bottom: 8px; padding-right: 8px; padding-top: 8px;" width="473" /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Think we've got him spinning in his...okay research time...Is Billy buried in a mouldering </span><span style="font-size: large;">grave or some hermetically sealed mausoleum? </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">One must strive for accuracy...so hang on a sec while I Wikipedia...</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><img alt="" class="rg_hi uh_hi" data-height="271" data-width="186" height="271" id="rg_hi" src="https://encrypted-tbn3.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcTYA489nGlOeKlWHOBnp04mV8YCe6CSVXpPp4XpJ0PRjmD70nfK" style="height: 271px; width: 186px;" width="186" /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Talk about wanting to make certain the world cannot escape your mind even in death, he actually wrote the epitaph on his gravestone...</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><strong><em>Good friend for Jesus sake forbeare,<br />To dig the dust enclosed here. <br />Blessed be the man that spares these stones,<br />And cursed be he that moves my bones.</em></strong></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">As grave monikers go it's pretty good, but still what an ego! Somehow or another I don't think </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><img alt="" class="rg_hi uh_hi" data-height="183" data-width="275" height="183" id="rg_hi" src="https://encrypted-tbn1.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcQqpACtPygcp3jysswsHdyR59LQRFHDUKLDESNE_hJtxa4e5xq_" style="height: 183px; width: 275px;" width="275" /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">THIS was his original resting ground do you? (His relations inherited the rights of burial in August of 2000 to change his burial site in Stratford. Do you think his curse is working?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Seeing this begs the question...is Billy ticked at us Holmes Girls for our prolific brilliance, or is he just eternally </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><img alt="" class="rg_hi uh_hi" data-height="194" data-width="259" height="194" id="rg_hi" src="https://encrypted-tbn1.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcQ4Gingc7kCW6b4fepz6Do4mHRWaAsjXXKm9ezPWuQZ8PyQEWY6" style="height: 194px; width: 259px;" width="259" /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">grumpy because his creaking old bones have been re-interred?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">With his ego...BOTH!</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><img alt="" class="rg_hi uh_hi" data-height="268" data-width="188" height="268" id="rg_hi" src="https://encrypted-tbn1.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcTW3ISNvKztg6tuwhPQ8QB2ZZOzlTJ0FA0QapNGQ5CnSQHn3UBzMw" style="height: 268px; width: 188px;" width="188" /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">So let's just keep rattling his bones with undisputed verification of the the Holmes Girls and our </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><img alt="" class="rg_hi uh_hi" data-height="183" data-width="275" height="183" id="rg_hi" src="https://encrypted-tbn3.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcRKD514lEpE5ITXOn3waTqon9RCIyoIBJGZPUH-fMR-AN0wAGWWwQ" style="height: 183px; width: 275px;" width="275" /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">superiority.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">When last we left the erstwhile </span><span style="font-size: large;">Holmes Girls...yes...I am resorting to </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><img alt="" class="rg_hi uh_hi" data-height="139" data-width="363" height="139" id="rg_hi" src="https://encrypted-tbn3.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcTfNvMEzb3H5lOZjHJDlXnSKToaJeJfCQmLsMqa2o4I1fLKcgu3" style="height: 139px; width: 363px;" width="363" /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">THIRD PERSON for me here...Kat and L.J. Holmes were tied. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><img alt="" class="rg_hi uh_hi" data-height="192" data-width="263" height="192" id="rg_hi" src="https://encrypted-tbn0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcSgwOQ9pWnwjXcgODZ-n5aGDSwtudpCh3RvLStG9ADYwvaSGIVu" style="height: 192px; width: 263px;" width="263" /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Will they remain so?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">On the Kat side we have:</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">1.) The Lighthouse EB (e-book)</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">2.) The Lighthouse PB (print book...NOT peanut butter)</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">3.) Frozen EB</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">On the L.J. side we have:</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">1.) Santa is a Lady EB</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">2.) Forever With You EB</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">3.) The Pendulum Swings EB</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I can see where this is heading...L.J. needs to write something BIG enough to get a (PB). She's going to have to NUDGE her Nudge.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Give me a second here while I go </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><img alt="" class="rg_hi uh_hi" data-height="225" data-width="225" height="225" id="rg_hi" src="https://encrypted-tbn1.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcQjUg0RDckP1IwV_E4ABXvbHvTBQWCozuHEhWwDkV32QnTczBVH" style="height: 225px; width: 225px;" width="225" /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">sit in the corner and throw a mild temper tantrum while ranting "I WANT A PB. I WANT A PB!" until I get it out of my system.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Okay I've </span><span style="font-size: large;">chilled...</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">well mostly.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Let's begin with April 2011since that's where we left off...I'm so clever aren't I?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><img alt="" class="rg_hi uh_hi" data-height="225" data-width="225" height="225" id="rg_hi" src="https://encrypted-tbn1.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcQnOYmbWEb-VwRpQO3QNIehn1Vmsn0JAa6RjSwuq_gOvAGxaMW5fQ" style="height: 225px; width: 225px;" width="225" /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">April 2011 Kat moves into the lead between the Holmes Girls with the release of her very first FANTASY world, the incredibly detailed Artica where Awni is Queen, Tichi is the God and the mysterious Artica Lights have just pulled poor Brent through some kind of a time warp landing him butt deep in the dungeon. Not the best introduction to your slice of pending insanity is it?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">This book, aptly called </span><br />
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<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">FROZEN is the first in Kat's ARTICA LIGHTS SERIES with one of the most haunting covers the world will ever see.I mean seriously...look at this cover...don't YOU feel the chills running up and down your spine? And I nearly had heart failure when I realized the </span><br />
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<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Artica Lights are actually swirling around on the cover too. Trust me on this, you don't want to get too close to those Lights...poor Brent did, and look what happened to him...Okay I'm not going to TELL you what happened, but trust me not even sub-zero gear will protect you.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://museituppublishing.com/bookstore2/index.php?page=shop.product_details&flypage=flypage.tpl&product_id=103&category_id=9&keyword=Frozen&option=com_virtuemart&Itemid=1">FROZEN</a>...click on <----that link and read more...you will so NOT be sorry.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Well, Kat's firmly in the lead...Billy's rumbling...making me wonder if </span><br />
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<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Tichi and Artica's Lights are playing with him too? Do bones feel the cold? What a question.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">MAY 2011...</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">L.J. cranks it up, but not in a comfortable way with TWILIGHT COMES</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Do you think writing about Hamlet and the ghostly father gave Billy the heebie jeebies?</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Writing about Matt, the hero?...in TWILIGHT COMES surely gave L.J. the heebie jeebies...so much so she had not a single clue how to promote this darker than </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><img alt="" class="rg_hi uh_hi" data-height="198" data-width="240" height="198" id="rg_hi" sb_id="ms__id1867" src="https://encrypted-tbn2.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcT09kcGSbf66F2M4f-CIpsF5RbZCizGxsZ3w9q2jI74dXI4pRemeg" style="height: 198px; width: 240px;" width="240" /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">dark story. Some topics, just cannot be candy coated and a HEA would be too insulting. Yet they have power contained within their meter to stop you in your track, and a message. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">This story haunts and will continue to haunt L.J. and those who've read it so far. Some say this is L.J.'s best writing to date...she hopes not because if it is, writing will tear her soul into shreds every time she cranks one of these out.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">But with the release of <a href="http://museituppublishing.com/bookstore2/index.php?page=shop.product_details&flypage=flypage-ask.tpl&product_id=152&category_id=3&option=com_virtuemart&Itemid=1">TWILIGHT COMES</a>, the </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Holmes Girls...and as this pic shows, there's no way they can deny being mother and daughter...are tied and Billy, you can eat </span><span style="font-size: large;">your </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><img alt="" class="rg_hi uh_hi" data-height="183" data-width="275" height="183" id="rg_hi" sb_id="ms__id3346" src="https://encrypted-tbn1.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcRruDRtbgBc598XOLjXuUdhBhmtcn_UUwINHEP19PO0tj9v_wd9CA" style="height: 183px; width: 275px;" width="275" /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">on that!</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Till next time...In your honor, Billy...</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><img alt="" class="rg_hi uh_hi" data-height="219" data-width="231" height="219" id="rg_hi" sb_id="ms__id4787" src="https://encrypted-tbn2.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcRgK_hKTzGDcZ6MUqcgrZWOv27sZZTAtcseRpkWpq1bqOP2ICy1" style="height: 219px; width: 231px;" width="231" /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Nah nah, nah, nah, nah, nah, nah!</span>Linhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13866209826449646004noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6577632567371809376.post-8806215281351278792012-10-22T12:13:00.003-07:002012-10-22T13:19:09.695-07:00Did Billy Go BOOM?<span style="font-size: large;">Did you hear a</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><img alt="" class="rg_hi uh_hi" data-height="225" data-width="225" height="225" id="rg_hi" src="https://encrypted-tbn3.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcSqv89eotoPwr4LTFHCFBh1zLe5oGnFji7xhhdvDFE9wM2dbQS5Fg" style="height: 225px; width: 225px;" width="225" /></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Could it be our most recent release has dislodged good old </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><img alt="" class="rg_hi uh_hi" data-height="185" data-width="272" height="185" id="rg_hi" src="https://encrypted-tbn3.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcRN7V9ruOqjMScnG51-2vvtSCSXJVi7JKgZv1ySHvAu2Wn56lOqWg" style="height: 185px; width: 272px;" width="272" /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Billy Shakespeare from his long and mouldy complacency?</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Or could it be he heard, through some </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><img alt="" class="rg_hi uh_hi" data-height="194" data-width="259" height="194" id="rg_hi" src="https://encrypted-tbn3.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcSyu9i2s6-IhMV1LpcLASawpE_uABVWYpxjCaKnj6O_EhbxZOCHWA" style="height: 194px; width: 259px;" width="259" /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">ethereal grapevine what Kat and I have in store for THIS posting?</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Maybe...because it suddenly got very </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><img alt="" class="rg_hi uh_hi" data-height="190" data-width="265" height="190" id="rg_hi" src="https://encrypted-tbn3.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcRQihB4qU91CIDdG4yI1L8mde5CB2dBw6CfwArJ6h4h1rGF2UqE" style="height: 190px; width: 265px;" width="265" /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">cold around here...No, I KNOW it's late October, but we're here in the SOUTH...just across the state line from </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><img alt="" class="rg_hi uh_hi" data-height="177" data-width="284" height="177" id="rg_hi" src="https://encrypted-tbn0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcRL3VjOsRdvW9ELsfF_Itk57yRlSgDyiHqWzPi-qJ2jk_XMbjnz" style="height: 177px; width: 284px;" width="284" /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Pensacola, Florida. Cold is not something we get this early...And to prove it let me check my </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><img height="480" id="il_fi" src="http://imageserv9.team-logic.com/store-logic/products/213/15165/1791.jpg" style="padding-bottom: 8px; padding-right: 8px; padding-top: 8px;" width="279" /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Ladybug thermometer given me by my sister </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><img alt="" class="rg_hi uh_hi" data-height="160" data-width="220" height="160" id="rg_hi" src="https://encrypted-tbn1.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcS652WjWXPJ90FiANFxL2V_eI-RTIpwx4-Qua9c5PZyCTjnI2e8SQ" style="height: 160px; width: 220px;" width="220" /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Rosebug. It's seventy-two degrees outside...hardly cold enough to explain that blast of ice.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Hmmm... Billy, if you're here, you might want to take </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><img alt="" class="rg_hi uh_hi" data-height="263" data-width="192" height="263" id="rg_hi" src="https://encrypted-tbn1.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcTkPYRnmXwEuEPBpLClTFdImK3dVHiBjlDT_Ymn6Co3ZiAfbwtwBA" style="height: 263px; width: 192px;" width="192" /></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">a hike...now before my guest today arrives. I guarantee she will </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><img alt="" class="rg_hi uh_hi" data-height="183" data-width="276" height="183" id="rg_hi" src="https://encrypted-tbn2.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcSbGaL9TJfYu8mfYCAkWSPdVxgo6SYyUJEhp27e_oANXsqLx35w" style="height: 183px; width: 276px;" width="276" /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">melt your chill right out of you and then what? What happens to a </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><img alt="" class="rg_hi uh_hi" data-height="248" data-width="203" height="248" id="rg_hi" src="https://encrypted-tbn2.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcS0b6OY4pYRBHTBsRA729eCUTebFYq2EVIIs0rSsfb1syk1VSa9sg" style="height: 248px; width: 203px;" width="203" /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">ghost who loses his chill?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Gonna stick around huh...well don't say I didn't warn you...</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">My guest today is one of the central stars of L.J. and Kat Holmes' first collaborative Muse Book, </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">HER LAST DAY. I have admit it took a LOT to get my guest to come and sit still for this interview...you have no idea the logistics we battled with...But allow me to introduce Su. Many of you know her as </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><img alt="" class="rg_hi uh_hi" data-height="156" data-width="224" height="156" id="rg_hi" src="https://encrypted-tbn1.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcTq8JlBKv_7CntGU-iD3hap_AaRDhUoupRenUPlvxCMvNi5nzgRpA" style="height: 156px; width: 224px;" width="224" /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Mount Vesuvius but she likes to be called Su. Welcome Su.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">A huge </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><img alt="" class="rg_hi uh_hi" data-height="184" data-width="274" height="184" id="rg_hi" src="https://encrypted-tbn3.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcRSw1srrtxf0AjhF1I9RLI7xWKN_ORKLRjLsFBg5bTeBsyG464M8w" style="height: 184px; width: 274px;" width="274" /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">belch erupts from Su's mouth she qucikly and with an embarrassed flush covers. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>Su: Please forgive me. I had a bit of the</strong></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><img alt="" class="rg_hi uh_hi" data-height="195" data-width="259" height="195" id="rg_hi" src="https://encrypted-tbn2.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcSYDecOQ2Gy-JZS6nBlOxPmlRf__4jrKRrcGzhU9y-UjdFBh7OwSg" style="height: 195px; width: 259px;" width="259" /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>Blue Ridge Mountains for lunch and now I've got a bit of indigestion.</strong></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">L.J.: Sorry to hear that.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>Su: Yeah...it's a pain in my </strong></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><img alt="" class="rg_hi uh_hi" data-height="170" data-width="297" height="170" id="rg_hi" src="https://encrypted-tbn0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcSZv57uzbDQHJtX75HhEwcCEsB6LaKSv98YEeH9_3y-z3g_eyoJ" style="height: 170px; width: 297px;" width="297" /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>magma chamber I can tell you. When that stuff gets riled look out!</strong></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">L.J.: So I've heard. Su you asked to be here...getting you here proved challenging, but now that you're here can you tell my readers why it was so important?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>Su: We have an</strong> </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><img alt="" class="rg_hi uh_hi" data-height="214" data-width="236" height="214" id="rg_hi" src="https://encrypted-tbn2.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcSVsEXA1vs_G4eoefvxYab-_4bf_DNr54aS2qvAws2TqD5zE7eXGg" style="height: 214px; width: 236px;" width="236" /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>underground network that lets us know when there are rumblings about us and I heard that you and your daughter were </strong></span><span style="font-size: large;"><strong>churning up issues about something I did a very LOOOONNNNNGGGG time ago. So I wanted to come and tell y 'all the truth.</strong></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">L.J.: (Shaking my head I look into her fiery center.) You didn't bury Pompeii</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>Su: Oh yeah! Course I did. but</strong> </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><img alt="" class="rg_hi uh_hi" data-height="227" data-width="222" height="227" id="rg_hi" src="https://encrypted-tbn3.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcROubK__-LTrhV0TuwM3aC4SPKfMzwCB5DhfsBGiUxvJqkYBi5d" style="height: 227px; width: 222px;" width="222" /></span><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">L.J.: YOU erupted but it wasn't your fault?</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>Su: Of course not. I'd been building up a case of indigestion for well</strong> </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><img alt="" class="rg_hi uh_hi" data-height="209" data-width="208" height="209" id="rg_hi" src="https://encrypted-tbn0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcScNLJYJJiwraMi2pGSj6_VcRVNN2IbtipWqs24GLkSLN0jgnHL" style="height: 209px; width: 208px;" width="208" /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>Think about it...year after year my kind keep gnawing on the earth's mantle with no way to...you know relieve ourselves. It's not like there's a</strong> </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><img alt="" class="rg_hi uh_hi" data-height="186" data-width="271" height="186" id="rg_hi" src="https://encrypted-tbn1.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcR079TLX_OLC6LN3MKbXbVgdtvleWbdPMyaDd2Nz_hxpeRFu3mx" style="height: 186px; width: 271px;" width="271" /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>bathroom we can hop over to, toss our cookies, or relieve our angry guts like you humans do. What do you think you'd do if you couldn't high tail it to a bathroom when your innards are rumbling?</strong></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">L.J.: I must admit I never looked at it that way.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>Su: See...it really wasn't my fault.</strong></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">L.J.: But your uhmmm spit-up killed one quarter of the people living in Pompeii at the time, not to mention those you killed in Herculaneum and Stabiae.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>Su: When humans get drunk and then have to pull their cars over to toss their cookies on the roadside how many bugs do you think YOU kill?</strong></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">L.J.: Hmmm A good point, Su.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>Su: Of course it is. You look at what happened through the</strong> </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><img alt="" class="rg_hi uh_hi" data-height="183" data-width="276" height="183" id="rg_hi" src="https://encrypted-tbn2.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcTn18lhLYic1MWNjTske13J5PoM87ijQCmxlFnYfDW_lZK1rFJ5Qg" style="height: 183px; width: 276px;" width="276" /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>eyes of a human, but for me it was nothing more than my gut needing relief. Do you think about the bugs on the ground you</strong> </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><img alt="" class="rg_hi uh_hi" data-height="240" data-width="149" height="240" id="rg_hi" src="https://encrypted-tbn3.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcSZbnLOisata9YglvXJcPUJuXlsZ9Va_dyoEP0IKRTAkgBe-DGzmw" style="height: 240px; width: 149px;" width="149" /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>barf onto when relieving your guts? Of course you don't. All you think about is your need for relief. That's all I was thinking about...and you know it's not like I didn't give those foolish Pompeiians plenty of warning. How many times did I shake the ground when I was trying to find a comfortable position to ease the pressure in my gut?</strong></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">L.J.: As I recall a lot.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>Su: Damned straight! I didn't WANT to empty my sour belly onto those people, but when you gotta toss your cookies, you gotta toss your cookies.</strong></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">L.J.: I can't argue with that. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>Su: You know it! But I will say the rumblings I've heard about</strong> </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>HER LAST DAY are accurate and excellent. Makes me wish I had eyes so I could kick back and read it. You humans are lucky that way. All I can do is sit over there in Italy and continually munch on the</strong> </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><img alt="" class="rg_hi uh_hi" data-height="194" data-width="259" height="194" id="rg_hi" src="https://encrypted-tbn3.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcQ5WRrGyXZQfSkT1r5Y8HyK6UKj1e1_VUoTwIFXjaUCwe8DvxpIAg" style="height: 194px; width: 259px;" width="259" /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>mantle. Which, by the way, is one reason I was glad you accepted my request to come here and be interviewed by you. It's breaking the monotony</strong>.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">L.J.: Have you been enjoying yourself, Su?</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>Su: For the most part. I discovered there some metal contraptions attached to your Blue Ridge Mountains I've never tasted before. Sorta tastes like corn,</strong></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><img alt="" class="rg_hi uh_hi" data-height="183" data-width="275" height="183" id="rg_hi" src="https://encrypted-tbn0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcS3RSnyWeEmmcBXA437cmhxkn3BwS7Ry6hlia3CcV9QVFZdEflw7Q" style="height: 183px; width: 275px;" width="275" /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> <strong>but different. Made me a bit woosy so I scampered over to your Atlantic and left some of my cookies in your ocean. Figured you'd appreciate me not burying one of your port cities.</strong></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">L.J.: Yes. Thank you Su. Not sure how I'd explain you being here to my government.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>Su: Yeah...for some reason I seem to upset governments.</strong> </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">L.J. : Is there anything more you want us to know Su.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>Su: Actually it's more of a question I have for you. You humans visit us and climb up to</strong> </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><img alt="" class="rg_hi uh_hi" data-height="194" data-width="259" height="194" id="rg_hi" src="https://encrypted-tbn1.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcSXt1PRTjd3gyUCuKgnL-cQwaUDefBV6YOC0_oA02nEzjrDbrg0" style="height: 194px; width: 259px;" width="259" /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>yell down at us, so tell me, are you asking us to belch at you? I'm very confused by that. On the one hand you're upset I buried Pompeii when I had indigestion, but you trek up my sides and yell into my center like you want me to belch again. What is that all about?</strong></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">L.J.: Uhmm I'm not sure I know how best to explain that, except it's humans tempting the </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><img alt="" class="rg_hi uh_hi" data-height="240" data-width="210" height="240" id="rg_hi" src="https://encrypted-tbn1.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcTS0o5rWpTRdYzjQO4Ow5YEzmvZogn4L8Ckbz4CwCFu1YFhyzeC" style="height: 240px; width: 210px;" width="210" /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Fates and hoping the Fates aren't really listening.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>Su: (letting out a puff of smoke.) Well, that's just plain stupid.</strong></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">L.J.: Yes, it is. I see by the </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><img alt="" class="rg_hi uh_hi" data-height="225" data-width="225" height="225" id="rg_hi" src="https://encrypted-tbn1.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcR5muTSqOZtJXFNUmWQtiUr8xGrIwj25_hNQbBhT_VpT4bvmT7n" style="height: 225px; width: 225px;" width="225" /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">clock on the wall our time is just about up. Is there any last thing you want to share with my readers?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>Su: Yes. As one of the stars of HER LAST DAY I think they should all rush to their nearest e-book seller and buy a copy. It's a great story. Just remember it was NOT my fault.</strong></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">And there you have it...the very first AMERICAN visit from Mount Vesuvius...and as she said </span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNjPgE23D92qAYAnpvKSk8iOmsO1re1rvyW7DJJDcU00Hquq18_dbGZPk_tZCWH5jAskYfh8ZM11B6X4F-TwFHzOOow9iXq03mN3u08z-yQaPts7tPUOgFgp9cRWtCcKjb8mLez6G78jMp/s1600/HerLastDay_333X500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" oea="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNjPgE23D92qAYAnpvKSk8iOmsO1re1rvyW7DJJDcU00Hquq18_dbGZPk_tZCWH5jAskYfh8ZM11B6X4F-TwFHzOOow9iXq03mN3u08z-yQaPts7tPUOgFgp9cRWtCcKjb8mLez6G78jMp/s320/HerLastDay_333X500.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">HER LAST DAY is a book you really can't pass up.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I want to thank Su...and Billy I think that puts Kat and I </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><img alt="" class="rg_hi uh_hi" data-height="153" data-width="329" height="153" id="rg_hi" src="https://encrypted-tbn1.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcTpU2V5hHF1TPwXK5GDYVu_2NjlMDeIZoWK31xS2_Vm6FfUSOc" style="height: 153px; width: 329px;" width="329" /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">on you. I don't recall YOU ever interviewing a temporarily dormant volcano.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://museituppublishing.com/bookstore2/index.php?page=shop.product_details&flypage=flypage.tpl&product_id=610&category_id=8&keyword=Her+LAst+Day&option=com_virtuemart&Itemid=1">HER LAST DAY</a> is available at Muse It Up Publishing, Inc where the best of e-books take their first bows.</span><span style="font-size: large;"></span>Linhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13866209826449646004noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6577632567371809376.post-20061645939817244832012-09-14T16:44:00.002-07:002012-09-16T08:25:23.852-07:00THE LIGHTHOUSE by Kat Holmes is FREE tomorrow<span style="font-size: large;">AND Sunday.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Get your</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><img alt="" class="rg_hi uh_hi" data-height="229" data-width="220" height="229" id="rg_hi" src="https://encrypted-tbn2.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcS2zH-pp1UyXAy9Ki3ig8xcoND-40R2JKZz_o8YvYL2rdCQmO6X" style="height: 229px; width: 220px;" width="220" /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">FREE copy of AWARD WINNING Author Kat Holmes' debut Mystery Suspense Romance </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><img alt="" aria-busy="true" aria-describedby="fbPhotosSnowliftCaption" class="spotlight" height="500" src="http://sphotos-b.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash3/41108_137825269596109_5940952_n.jpg" style="height: 500px; width: 333px;" width="333" /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">THE LIGHTHOUSE...</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">You cannot BEAT that deal. Where else could you get a persistent ghost, a sexy sheriff, a beautiful heroine, and a diabolical murderer all in the same place...and for FREE?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">This book, already a </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><img height="399" id="il_fi" src="http://critters.org/predpoll/awardpix/2011/top10novelr.jpg" style="padding-bottom: 8px; padding-right: 8px; padding-top: 8px;" width="400" /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Preditor's and Editors 2011 award winner, and a 2011 </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><img alt="" class="rg_hi uh_hi" data-height="123" data-width="409" height="123" id="rg_hi" src="https://encrypted-tbn0.google.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcR62JnSZv3HRFKFashNmYN0waVFfW30juN35iGuKPE3BcX1PWro1A" style="height: 123px; width: 409px;" width="409" /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">PEARL nominee will take you for a delicious ride as you pit yourself against the twists and turns Kat Holmes has woven into this story.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><img alt="" class="rg_hi uh_hi" data-height="172" data-width="294" height="172" id="rg_hi" src="https://encrypted-tbn2.google.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcTzRztoQECt7-KjRRCa4Hx4I185As_Z6QZDpexy0ehiY6KzlzqK" style="height: 172px; width: 294px;" width="294" /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">So remember to go into AMAZON.COM tomorrow or Sunday and snatch up THE LIGHTHOUSE...you will be glad you did!</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Click below and head on over:</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/The-Lighthouse-ebook/dp/B004MDLK4G/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1347804862&sr=1-1&keywords=THE+LIGHTHOUSE+by+Kat+Holmes">http://www.amazon.com/The-Lighthouse-ebook/dp/B004MDLK4G/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1347804862&sr=1-1&keywords=THE+LIGHTHOUSE+by+Kat+Holmes</a></span><br />
Linhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13866209826449646004noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6577632567371809376.post-21232134044817853802012-09-14T11:12:00.000-07:002012-09-16T08:32:16.544-07:00WE COME TOGETHER AS ONE (PART TWO)<span style="font-size: large;">It HAS been a long time since our debut posting...and Kat and I were neck to neck with her book, </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><img src="http://museituppublishing.com/bookstore2/images/stories/thelighthouse_200x300.jpg" /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">The LIGHTHOUSE and my book </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" src="http://museituppublishing.com/bookstore2/images/stories/santaisalady_200x300_rgb.jpg" /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">SANTA IS A LADY...</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">However, I have to give Kat Holmes, my most gifted daughter, extra points...her book is now available as BOTH e-book AND print. My SANTA IS A LADY is still only available as an e-book...but there are rumors it may be available just in time for THIS Christmas' gift giving in print as well...Still my daughter is a point ahead of me, L.J. Holmes.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">It's time to move on to the next round of our books...</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">First MINE...it debuted in February 2011...and it's a short story but with one BIG surprising ending that leaves everyone shaking their heads long after they finished reading it...or so they've told me.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Allow me to introduce </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><img src="http://museituppublishing.com/bookstore2/images/stories/foreverwithyou_200x300.jpg" /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">FOREVER WITH YOU.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #993300;"><strong>A Short Story by:</strong></span> L.J. Holmes</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #993300;"><strong>Genre:</strong></span> Contemporary Romance Erotica - Naughty but Nice!</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><strong><span style="color: #993300;">Release:</span> </strong>February 2011</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #993300;"><strong>Editor:</strong></span> Carrie RO</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #993300;"><strong>Line editor:</strong></span> Antonia Tiranth</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #993300;"><strong>Cover artist:</strong> </span>Delilah K. Stephans</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #993300;"><strong>Word count:</strong></span> 3912</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #993300;"><strong>Pages:</strong></span> 19</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #993300;"><strong>ISBN:</strong></span> </span>978-1-926931-37-1</span><br />
<span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #993300;"><strong>E-book price:</strong></span> $1.99</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #993300;"><strong>Warning:</strong></span> </span></span><span style="font-size: large;">This has SOME sexual mild sexual content. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #993300;"><strong><span style="font-size: large;">Blurb: </span></strong></span></span><br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Coryne reluctantly hired, for her own peace of mind, the all too handsome Keith Patterson and his crew to build a very special house on her time limits.</span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Moving a small camper trailer to the site, Coryne keeps a close eye on the progress. Problem with that is she also is forced to be in close proximity to that very handsome, all too deliciously seductive Keith Patterson.</span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /><span style="font-size: large;"></span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Resisting him is a full time job, and one she would have had enough trouble handling, but he made it harder because he let her know he was not at all adverse to the temptation she poses. She must resist...mustn't she?</span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /><span style="font-size: large;"></span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Follow Coryne and Keith right to the very surprising ending and Coryne's "Forever With You" moment.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><strong><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #993300;">Excerpt:</span> </span></strong></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">She lifted her tank top over her head and her full breasts puckered and tightened in the light breeze playing through the trees. The biker shorts, hugging her womanly curves, and her lacy, blue panties followed, as did the band in her hair and the sandals on her feet.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Gracefully, she dove deeply into the cold mountain water. Her whole body tingled. She loved swimming. In the city she’d been forced to always go somewhere where she was required to wear some form of suit. But here, there were no neighbors to be incensed by her boldness, nor any dirty, old men drooling over the slightest hint of her ripened cleavage.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">She swam with vigor, stretching her body to its limits before turning over to float and indulge in some mindless woolgathering, her wet, black hair fanned out around her. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #993300;"><strong>Reviews:<em> </em></strong></span></span><em>I came to know Coryne intimately through her thoughts. Ms Holmes reaches inside her character to provide the reader with a deep insight into what drives this woman. With no need to work for money, Coryne shows her compassionate side as she puts her extensive legal training into representing battered women and their children.</em><span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #993300;"><strong><a href="http://suebookreviews.blogspot.com/2011/01/forever-with-you-by-lj-holmes.html" included="null" target="_blank"> Sue Book Reviews - READ FULL REVIEW</a></strong></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><em>You’d be forgiven, when reading </em><em>Forever With You, that it’s “just another romance book”. Well, think again. Yes, it follows the great pattern of woman meets man, woman is attracted to man, man reciprocates the feelings, but with a twist at the end that you won’t see coming. Upon reading this twist, I was thrown into Question Land after a whispered “Oh!” came out of me because I was shocked at the book even </em><em>having a twist.</em> -</span><a href="http://mizlovelovesbooks.blogspot.com/2011/02/forever-with-you-by-lj-holmes.html?zx=4b72c824a6381787" included="null" target="_blank"><span style="font-size: large;">Miz Love Loves Books - 5/5 review - READ FULL REVIEW</span></a><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><em>Ms. Holmes pulls from a believable relationship situation and creates an interesting, heart-touching story. She glides the reader along in the story through Coryne’s eyes, and it all comes together in a satisfying twist-of-fate ending. Beautiful!</em> </span><a href="http://kaydeeroyal.blogspot.com/2011/02/forever-with-you-blurb-excerpt-review.html?zx=ad724026873d4e23" included="null" target="_blank"><span style="font-size: large;">Kay Dee Royal review READ FULL REVIEW</span></a><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><em>This short story is only nineteen pages long, but those pages will keep you on the edge of your seat wondering why Coryne is so resistant to Keith’s charm and availability and how he will break down her walls. I highly recommend this entertaining and surprising read.</em> </span><a href="http://rochelleweber.blogspot.com/" included="null" target="_blank"><span style="font-size: large;">Rochelle Weber review...READ FULL REVIEW</span></a><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #993300;"><strong><img src="http://museituppublishing.com/bookstore2/images/stories/just%20mom3.jpg" /></strong></span></div>
<h1 style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://museithotpublishing.com/index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=65&Itemid=82" included="null" target="_blank">MEET THE AUTHOR</a></h1>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">In March 2011 I also released another semi-full length novel called </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><img src="http://museituppublishing.com/bookstore2/images/stories/pendulum_200x300.jpg" /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">THE PENDULUM SWINGS. This is my first fantasy...and Time Travel...sort of and this means I'm ahead, right? And it does have a really amorous fireplace to warm and titillate the cockles of the sexiest of men.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #993300;"><strong>Author:</strong></span> L.J. Holmes</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #993300;"><strong>Genre:</strong></span> Time Travel Fantasy Romance Erotica</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #993300;"><strong>Release:</strong></span> March 2011</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #993300;"><strong>Editor:</strong></span> Carrie RO</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #993300;"><span style="font-size: large;"><strong>Line Editor:</strong> <span style="color: black;">Greta Gunselman</span><span style="color: black;"></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #993300;"><strong>Cover Artist:</strong></span> Delilah K. Stephans</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #993300;"><strong>Word count:</strong></span> 17901</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #993300;"><strong>Pages:</strong></span> 59</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #993300;"><strong>ISBN:</strong></span> </span>978-1-926931-40-1</span><br />
<span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #993300;"><strong>Price:</strong> </span>$3.50</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #993300;"><strong>Warning:</strong></span> Adult Content</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #993300;"><strong><span style="font-size: large;">Blurb:</span></strong></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">When you wake up in a strange room, that's bad, but when you wake up in a strange body, time, and everyone hates you, that's REALLY bad...and terrifying.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">What do you do when your last memory is being skewered to death and your next is waking up in the body of another, thousands of years in the future?</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">You set out to be yourself and win over these future beings of course, because for some reason, the gods of your time have decided this is where you are supposed to live out the rest of your life.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Follow Siri as she belly dances, laughs, and teases her way through the distrust of the woman whose body she now inhabits, turning an entire household of haters into her staunchest fans...except for him. Can she win him over, or is he determined to only see the shell of who she used to be?</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #993300;"><strong>Excerpt:</strong></span> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Jason lifted the bottle from the bottom drawer, twisted the top open, placed it to his lips and chugged. The liquid, nasty and foul tasting, burned a long path all the way into his stomach. There it formed a blazing ball of misery, so Jason chugged again and slipped into the blood red leather chair, propped his feet up, and tipped the bottle back again.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">As the warmth in his stomach radiated, his nerves began to settle and his words came back in bold detail.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Oh God, he thought, snapping his feet back to the floor. He told Siri he was filing for a divorce in the morning.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I don’t want to file for divorce—do I? Not yet! Later, most definitely, but not yet!</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">That’s ridiculous! I should get a divorce now. Wouldn’t it be better to cut my losses and get on with my life?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Losses…Mandi…</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Despite his threat, he knew he didn’t have a snowball’s chance in hell of winning custody of his beloved daughter. Once Joanna’s memory returned, she’d have him for fraud and anything else her evil little mind could come up with if he took her daughter.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Until her accident he wouldn’t have thought Mandi meant anything to Joanna, but Siri, could not be a more loving, attentive mother.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Where did that leave him?<ins cite="mailto:Greta" datetime="2011-01-29T06:20"> </ins>Right here, if he wanted to be.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">It was quite obvious Siri didn’t want him to leave. In fact, it was quite obvious Siri wanted him. God, she went up like a Roman candle in his arms.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">So why am I down here drowning my sorrows in a bottle of Irish mash? Why not upstairs buried deeply inside Siri’s volatile heat?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Cause I’m an ass.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">A lesser man would have taken all Siri offered. It didn’t mean he had to commit to her. But as long as he was the husband, wasn’t he entitled to the fruits of his wife’s bounty?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Absolutely.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">He could see no reason to be locked in this awful room, pickling his innards in 120-proof grain alcohol when his body was strung tighter than a hot wire.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">He’d played the good husband long enough. It was time he got his. Dammit, she owes me.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">He’d been incredibly loyal to the heartless wench.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Jason set the bottle down with more vigor than finesse. It caught the edge of the desk, tipped over, and sloshed all over the side of the desk onto the thick sponge of the imported carpeting.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Joanna was going to have his hide. In that case, maybe he should just have hers first.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Righteously, Jason stumbled to his feet and tried to stand straight. The floor was drunk.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">“Can’t handle your mash!” he accused the spreading stain. “Shame on you.”</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Teetering against the rolling of the boozing floor, Jason managed, with much effort, to reach the door, but the stubborn thing refused to open. He dropped to the floor staring perplexed at the offending doorknob.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">“Wanna keep me in here just in case the floor ties one on?” he asked the door. He turned his head and waited, but the door remained silent. “Not gonna answer!” He looked around the room, zeroing in on the mantle. Maybe there was a secret panel leading directly to milady’s boudoir. He’d read plenty of adventure stories when he was a kid, and there was always a secret passageway between the study and the lady-of-the-manor’s bedroom. Wasn’t Joanna’s great-great-great-great-whatever a pirate? Anthony Moore would have sunk the ship, but the great-great…now there was a brigand.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">No self respecting brigand would have built a study without a secret passageway.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Jason stumbled back to his feet. The walls were crooked. Glancing back at the floor, he scolded the floor for feeding its mash to the walls, too. “Bad enough you had to sink into the pits of intoxication, you had to take the walls with you. You’re not nice Mr. Aubusson.”</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">The carpet ignored his rebuke, and the mantle seemed an awfully long way away. Either that or he was taking baby-steps, and for the life of him he couldn’t think why he would be doing that. Any more than he could figure out why the mantle curtsied for him. “What is this?” he drawled. “Don’t tell me now you want to dance?”</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">He stumbled over his own feet, reached out and caught the mantle ledge “I don’t think this is the right position for belly dancing, but hell, I’m game.”</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">The mantle dipped, swung, and spun him around until he felt quite dizzy. “Look Old Girl,” he said to the mantle’s carved trim, “this has been fun, but I’ve got to find that passageway. Don’t suppose you’d care to save me from tripping my fingers all over you by telling me where to look?”</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">The mantle remained stubbornly mute. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> MOVING ON: </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I have to be fair here and tell you all, Kat's writings are usually fuller of body because she creates mini-epics compared to my little short stories...and she did not disappoint with her amazing April 2011 release </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">FROZEN.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><img src="http://museituppublishing.com/bookstore2/images/stories/frozen_200x300.jpg" /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Here Kat created an entire world that lives in perpetual ice, with its own god Tichi and goddess queen Awni. Into this strange world, a man from our world is swepy by circling lights and dumped, knee deep in a snow drift so out of time and place, he's barely able to snort when rogh hands snatch him and dump him...in of all places...a castle dungeon?.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #993300;"><strong><span style="font-size: large;">Book One in the Artica Lights series</span></strong></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #993300;"><strong>Author:</strong></span> Kat Holmes</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><strong><span style="color: #993300;">Genre:</span> </strong>Paranormal Romance Erotica</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #993300;"><strong>Release:</strong></span>April 2011</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #993300;"><strong>Editor: </strong></span>Carrie RO</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #993300;"><strong>Line editor:</strong></span> Greta Gunselman</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #993300;"><strong>Cover artist:</strong></span> Delilah K. Stephans</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #993300;"><strong>Word count:</strong></span> 21741</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #993300;"><strong>Pages:</strong></span> 64</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #993300;"><strong>ISBN:</strong> </span></span>978-1-926931-46-3</span><br />
<span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #993300;"><strong>Price:</strong></span> $3.50</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #993300;"><strong>Blurb:</strong></span> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Brent Larkin came to Antarctica to study penguins. He didn’t come looking for either adventure or romance. But when a freak storm blows in and he loses his way, that’s exactly what he gets. Attacked by some bobbing lights, he suddenly finds himself in a wintry forest surrounded by men with swords pointed at him. The next thing he knows he’s in a dungeon and chained to the wall.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Awni is the queen of Artica, a land of eternal winter. The daughter of a god, Awni’s cursed to never know the touch of another. Her icy skin is death for anyone who dares to touch her flesh. But, when a mysterious stranger shows up in her lands, she finds herself drawn to him. Eager to learn about his world, she invites him to spend time with her only to be shocked when he touches her and doesn’t freeze to death.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">But Artica is a land ruled by tradition. Though she longs to keep Brent with her, the laws of the land force her to send him home. But without him, both she and the land begin to suffer. Now, Awni is facing the same peril as one of her ancestors. And if she perishes like her ancestor did, all of Artica will pay the price. Can Brent, returned to his own world, somehow find his way back and save her before all is lost?</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #993300;"><strong>Excerpt:</strong></span> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Groaning, Awni stood and stretched. Her muscles had tightened during the course of the meal. She picked up her glass and walked over to the balcony, but left the door closed. Brent wasn’t dressed for the outdoors.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">“Come here, I want to show you something.”</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Groaning, she guessed at his own stiff muscles, Brent got up and walked over to where she was. She pointed outside.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">“This is Artica. Isn’t she beautiful?”</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Awni held her breath as he took in the view. For some reason, his answer was very important to her. She watched as his eyes widened and he looked out in amazement.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">“I didn’t get to see any of this when I first got here, but it’s stunning. You have hills, and forests, and plenty of animals who seem to like the cold weather.”</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">She smiled. “Yes, this land has been blessed. Life thrives here, and the beauty is unspoiled. It is home.”</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">He turned to say something to her, but his jacket caught on a hook on the wall and, suddenly, he lost his footing. He fell forward and warm male flesh met her cold, deadly skin. Awni jerked away in horror, causing him to hit the ground hard, and waited for him to turn to ice. She waited…and waited.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Looking down at him as he rubbed his elbow, she gasped. “What in the world? You should be dead!” </span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<h1>
<a href="http://museithotpublishing.com/index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=67&Itemid=82" included="null" target="_blank">MEET THE AUTHOR</a></h1>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">So...count-wise I, L.J. Holmes, am ahead with THREE BOOKS:</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" src="http://museituppublishing.com/bookstore2/images/stories/santaisalady_200x300_rgb.jpg" /></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">1.) SANTA IS A LADY</span><br />
<br />
<img src="http://museituppublishing.com/bookstore2/images/stories/foreverwithyou_200x300.jpg" /><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">2.) FOREVER WITH YOU</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><img src="http://museituppublishing.com/bookstore2/images/stories/pendulum_200x300.jpg" /></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">3.) THE PENDULUM SWINGS</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">to Kat's </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><img src="http://museituppublishing.com/bookstore2/images/stories/thelighthouse_200x300.jpg" /></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">1.) THE LIGHTHOUSE</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><img src="http://museituppublishing.com/bookstore2/images/stories/frozen_200x300.jpg" /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">2.) FROZEN</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">BUT...Kat has her first book in BOTH e-book AND PRINT format...so that SHOULD count as TWO books...right...meaning we STILL Are tied!</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzcnuQOGQ45FRhEHHmUf6HrRwbseAffE-_71z8sXpgP6RxlTmt5YVfWl0Rsn8SP0vDYp-U9CtG39aPLWj7hOm-lz7RtEdxhOdOF6AmrclcubNwdmbbcOdMeEtc1Cn1Hn5AIb0ZdMD3D0PA/s1600/kat%5B1%5D.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" hea="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzcnuQOGQ45FRhEHHmUf6HrRwbseAffE-_71z8sXpgP6RxlTmt5YVfWl0Rsn8SP0vDYp-U9CtG39aPLWj7hOm-lz7RtEdxhOdOF6AmrclcubNwdmbbcOdMeEtc1Cn1Hn5AIb0ZdMD3D0PA/s1600/kat%5B1%5D.JPG" /></a></div>
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">YEAH FOR THE HOLMES GIRLS, L.J. Holmes and Kat Holmes...</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><img height="405" id="il_fi" sb_id="ms__id4154" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQBKAxz4GSuBTsklW1oQNbxjEIb_7u6r4H3VAM2uoLEysyTIxcgO3GUdDVEP8lr6vD2fvurB-syswCtWjiZScHRCgYlEWMK7xbYsBXbgPbl8Z4trgOwKk5ST281AH-ROkUF8JHhvXtntY/s1600/shakespeare.jpg" style="padding-bottom: 8px; padding-right: 8px; padding-top: 8px;" width="300" /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Shakespeare, you old dude you...you need to shake off your years of moldering...because we plan to OVERTAKE your record...count on it!</span>Linhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13866209826449646004noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6577632567371809376.post-26880667260573366132012-05-26T15:56:00.001-07:002012-09-14T10:08:06.203-07:00WE COME TOGETHER AS ONE<span style="font-size: large;">Kat Holmes and I, Daughter and Mother respectively are both authors sharing one home...so it's time to bring out our stuff and, even though this is the hardest part of being an author for me...BOAST.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I'm going to begin by showcasing as much of our stuff side by side as I can...</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><img height="416" id="il_fi" src="http://www.masayume.it/img/masayume/shakeanim.jpg" style="padding-bottom: 8px; padding-right: 8px; padding-top: 8px;" width="370" /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">To that purpose, now that I've quieted Shakespeare who sneers at those of us not to be-ing, let the boasting begin.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Kat and I share something in common with our first books...let me explain after I have presented our mutual debuts with our ever growing publisher, Muse It Up Publishing, Inc.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">At this the beginning of our writing journey and as of January 2011 we were neck and neck. Where will the months of 2011 and 2012 take us and what about the years beyond?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">After you read our debut posting please stay tuned...more is coming. Will we stay tied, or will one of us inch into the forefornt? Or could it be...maybe we'll join forces and double the storytelling fun?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Kat's first, THE LIGHTHOUSE, is a murder mystery, ghost story released by Muse It Up in January of 2011 to some really amazing pre-reviews that have blossomed since.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Take a look...</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><img src="http://museituppublishing.com/bookstore2/images/stories/thelighthouse_200x300.jpg" /></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #993300;"><strong><a href="http://museituppublishing.com/bookstore2/index.php?page=shop.product_details&flypage=flypage.tpl&product_id=102&category_id=9&keyword=The+Lighthouse&option=com_virtuemart&Itemid=1">The Lighthouse</a></strong></span></span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #993300;"><strong>Author:</strong><span style="color: black;"> Kat Holmes </span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #993300;"><strong>Genre: </strong><span style="color: black;">Paranormal Mystery Romance Erotica</span><span style="color: black;"> </span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #993300;"><strong>Release:</strong><span style="color: black;">January 2011 </span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #993300;"><strong>Editor: </strong><span style="color: black;">Carrie RO</span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #993300;"><strong>Line editor:</strong><span style="color: black;"> Antonia Tiranth</span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #993300;"><strong>Cover artist:</strong><span style="color: black;"> Delilah K. Stephans </span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #993300;"><strong>Word count:</strong><span style="color: black;"> 46,879</span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #993300;"><strong>Pages:</strong><span style="color: black;"> 123</span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #993300;"><strong>ISBN:</strong><span style="color: black;"> </span></span></span></span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">978-1-926931-18-0</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #993300;"><strong>Price:</strong><span style="color: black;"> $5.50 </span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #993300;"><strong>Blurb:</strong><span style="color: black;"> </span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">When Rachel Westmont inherits a lighthouse from an aunt she didn’t even know she had, she’s overjoyed. The news couldn’t have come at a better time. Newly divorced from a self-serving doctor, the change of scenery is just what she needs. So she packs up and leaves California for a little island off the coast of Maine.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Rachel falls in love with both Star Island and the beautiful lighthouse and cottage she’s inherited. But, odd things begin to happen right from the first day. Cold chills permeate the cottage and books fly off the shelves. And someone seems to be playing pranks on her.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">But when the ante gets upped and someone tries to kill her, Rachel must turn to hunky local sheriff Craig Lewis for protection. Now bodies are turning up, people are getting hurt, and Rachel is starting to suspect her aunt didn’t die a natural death. Can Craig stop a killer from claiming Rachel as their next victim? A little help from a ghost may be in order.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #993300;"><strong>Excerpt:</strong><span style="color: black;"> </span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Razor-sharp pain took her breath away. Her body lay broken and death raged to claim her. How cruel fate was. She’d just found peace and it vanished, been stolen from her in the blink of an eye. Why did this happen? What did she ever do to deserve this? Who would care for her beloved lighthouse?</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">A moment later, or perhaps an eternity, the pain stopped. She felt lighter than ever before. She felt free. No anguish, no loneliness, no misery. Everything in the world seemed perfect and filled with joy. She couldn’t help the laugh that burst from her. This is life as destiny truly meant it to be. Mortal life could never compare to this freedom. Home beckoned.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">She looked down at her body as she floated upward. It lay crumpled at the bottom of the stairs leading to the tower of the lighthouse she cared for all her mortal life. She could see the blood pooling around her head and the unnatural position of her limbs. Without a doubt they’d shattered as she’d landed. The sight would horrify her if she was still bound to her human body, but it meant nothing to her now.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Turning away, she looked upward as her form floated, heading for home. Excitement and anticipation filled her with glee. She’d get to be with her dear parents, after so many years apart. She missed them terribly. Her brother determined to break all ties with his past, both his home and what was left of his family, turned his back on her and the island home they’d gown up on. She’d been so alone for too long.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Rising, she finally reached the top of the lighthouse stairs and frowned at the hooded figure. Memory flooded back. The argument that ensued between them flashed before her. Then came the horrible moment when she’d been pushed and tumbled down the stairs. She’d been murdered.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">She watched as her killer, calm as could be, walked down the treacherous steps of the lighthouse tower, checked her body for life signs, and then walked out without even a backward glance. No compassion showed on her killer’s face, only cruel satisfaction. No one would suspect her death to be anything other than a terrible accident.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">The lighthouse that she’d long served, as keeper, dated back to the late 1700’s. The stairs were steep and very narrow as they wound up toward the top of the lighthouse where the light shined out. It possessed no railing either. It would be so easy for someone to slip and fall, and any fall would be deadly. Everyone would just assume that is what happened to her. No one would suspect she’d been pushed.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">She could see the light now. It would be so easy to just head toward it. But she couldn’t leave, not yet. She couldn’t allow her murderer to get away with killing her. She needed to make sure her killer got caught. The light was so beautiful and how she ached to follow it, but she turned away from its promise of peace and joy and headed back down. This lighthouse gave her haven all her life. Now she would haunt it until her murder was avenged. This she vowed.</span></span><br />
<h2 style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oXX-6isNStc" included="null" target="_blank"><strong>WATCH THE TRAILER</strong></a></span></span></h2>
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #993300;"><strong>Reviews: </strong></span></span></span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><em>I loved this story, the mystery hooks you from the beginning and keeps you turning the pages.</em><span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #993300;"><strong><a href="http://www.paranormalromance.org/reviews/review.php?id=33311" included="null" target="_blank">ParaNormalRomance Reviews - READ THE FULL REVIEW</a></strong></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><em>The Lighthouse is a good read with suspense, love, and that dash of creepiness that kept me reading.</em> <a href="http://www.mizlovelovesbooks.com/2011/04/lighthouse-by-kat-holmes.html?zx=541d514d0b6f87a0" included="null" target="_blank">Miz Love Loves Books 5/5 - READ FULL REVIEW</a></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Not bad...huh...but there's more it won the </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">2011 Preditor's and Editors Readers Poll...Not bad! AND it has a trailer that is this side of over the moon powerful.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br /><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">My first book came out a month before hers in December 2010. December means Christmas and this is the first book in my Christmas Miracles Series.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" src="http://museituppublishing.com/bookstore2/images/stories/santaisalady_200x300_rgb.jpg" /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Like Kat, my book's cover speaks...dontcha love the intense look in my cover heroine's eyes? It makes me shiver every time I see it. Which is a good thing for a story about a land dedicated to Christmas...and that IS what Northeringale is...a land dedicated to Christmas...and yes, miracles.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #993300;"><strong><a href="http://museituppublishing.com/bookstore2/index.php?page=shop.product_details&flypage=flypage.tpl&product_id=21&category_id=8&keyword=Santa+is+a+Lady&option=com_virtuemart&Itemid=1">Santa is a Lady</a></strong></span></span></span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><a href="http://museituppublishing.com/musepub/index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=65&Itemid=82" included="null"><strong>L.J. Holmes</strong></a></span></span><br /><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #993300;"><strong>Genre:</strong></span> Sweet Romance--Seasonal</span></span><br /><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #993300;"><strong>Word count:</strong></span> 33,070</span></span><br /><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #993300;"><strong>Page count: </strong><span style="color: black;">89</span><strong><br /></strong></span></span></span><br /><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #993300;"><strong>Editor: </strong><span style="color: black;">CarrieRO</span><strong><br /></strong></span></span></span><br /><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><strong><span style="color: #993300;">Line editor:</span> </strong>Antonia Tiranth<strong><br /></strong></span></span><br /><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #993300;"><strong>Cover Artist:</strong></span> Delilah K. Stephans</span></span><br /><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><strong><span style="color: #993300;">ISBN e-book:</span> </strong></span></span>978-1-926931-06-7<br /><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #993300;"><strong>Price:</strong></span> $4.50</span></span><br /><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #993300;"><strong>Blurb:</strong></span></span></span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-US"><br />Angie is someone who has had to walk through the fires of hell and battle with death itself to regain the use of her nearly shattered body. It’s Christmas, the time of wonder and magic for Angie, Cam a man who has spent the past nearly two years trying to pry his precious daughter from the unscrupulous hands of his late wife’s greedy Iraqi brother’s, and Jo, the precious daughter, who is finally free and in her father’s awed hands. Three people and one Christmas with so much magic swirling at last in their direction.</span></span></span> </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"> My debut won the </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Preditors and Editors 2010 Readers Poll award...and I'm still scraping my jaw off in disbelief. I also got a review from International Best Selling Suspense Author, Glenn Kleier...and may I just say...OMG!</span><br />
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<span style="color: #993300;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><strong><span lang="EN-US">Excerpt:</span></strong></span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">He didn’t look to the left; he didn’t look to the right; he made a direct beeline for Santa’s North Pole Throne and Angie’s vulnerable lap.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">It had already been an eventful day. Although Angie knew when she did it, it was probably a petty thing to do, she arrived at eight o’clock, not the earlier seven-thirty Beck had commanded the night before. It had given Angie a fleeting moment of righteous tit for tat pleasure. Of course, Beck had <em>not </em>been the least bit amused and had shown her annoyance in the manner she helped Angie get into her Santa disguise.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Angie turned a deaf ear to Beck’s litany of complaints, but by the time the doors actually opened, Angie’s body felt a bit tender from Beck’s “loving” ministrations and her limp seemed a bit more pronounced as she made her way to the North Pole Throne and another day locked into Santa cheer.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">The doors opened onto a stream of Santa fans that had been lined up in the cold that formed a queue from Santa’s throne to the door. Many had brought digital cameras demanding Santa and their cherubs pose this way and that. Santa felt old before her time by the half hour mark.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">The line worked its way down as the minutes moved on. The cash registers’ ka-chings had also gradually filtered, in Angie’s mind, blessedly into silence as the store emptied of Beck’s sainted customers.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Into that silence, though, <em>he</em> vaulted.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Known throughout all of Northeringale and twelve of the fourteen surrounding townships, Julian Harper arrived. Some people looked at Julian and saw an adorable though outrageously precocious scamp. Angie knew better. She’d babysat Julian once, almost a year ago, and had yet to fully recover from the experience. He was, to put it kindly, the proverbial <em>bull-in-the-china-shop.</em> Nothing he did was done by half measures including lurching up onto Santa’s lap where he landed with an inhuman thud.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Angie’s hip screamed out a chorale of yelps and she had to force her lips not to give voice to the silent screams within her. Biting down on waves of rippling agony Angie spouted her usual, “What can Santa bring for you, my fine boy?” spiel.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Julian Harper’s repertoire didn’t consist of sitting still either. Angie looked around frantically for the boy’s mother. And wondered why she’d allowed him to come into <em>Sweets and Treats</em> without her. <em>No doubt to get her own reprieve from the little hellion, </em>Angie thought sourly.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Julian Harper boosted himself up into a standing position so he could stretch over Santa and check out the long fall of Santa curls running down Angie’s back, catching his grubby paws in the acrylic locks. His fingers, sticky from whatever he’d had in them before coming into <em>Sweets and Treats</em> became ensnarled in the phony mane literally handcuffing Julian’s hands and the wig together.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Using his feet, Julian kicked out to get leverage, then jabbed, and jumped all over Angie’s lap trying to free himself from his captivity while screeching right in her ears at the top of his lungs. Angie, sensing the approaching disaster screamed for Beck to come and prevent the serious trouble about to fall upon them. Just as she screamed, though, Julian’s booted foot bulls-eyed down on Angie’s already battered hip. Another scream, this one loudly vocal and crammed with Angie’s suffering rent the air.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Beck reached the wildly out of control Julian and pulled him and Santa’s wig away from Angie in one powerful sweep.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Julian, his paws filled with the fake Santa hair, stared at Angie’s hairless Santa and began squealing, “Santa’s a fake” over and over again loud enough to wake the dead. He also began wriggling frantically in Beck’s hold, but she held onto him for dear life carting him into the back of the store where the bathroom waited to get his grubby hands free from Santa’s wig.</span></span> <br />
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<span style="color: #993300;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><strong><span lang="EN-US">Reviews:</span></strong></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><em>My heart went out to Angie and Cam as they struggled to heal the wounds that don’t show—the ones that hurt the worst. I highly recommend this book. Have tissues ready, and be sure you’re in a chair you can’t roll out of when you’re laughing. Oh, and if you still text while you drive, read this book; and then think again.</em> <a href="http://rochelleweber.blogspot.com/2011/01/book-review-santa-is-lady-by-l-j-holmes.html" included="null" target="_blank">READ FULL REVIEW...ROCHELLE WEBER, AUTHOR & EDITOR</a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">Christmas stories are hit or miss for me. They are either sappy or forced much of the time, and then there are the ones that capture the spirit of the holidays just right and become a keeper story to read each Christmas. <strong>Santa is a Lady</strong> is one of those "keeper" stories that caught me by surprise.<a href="http://moonsanity.blogspot.com/2010/12/christmas-reads-santa-is-lady.html" included="null" target="_blank"> READ FULL REVIEW - Wayfaring Writer</a></span></div>
Linhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13866209826449646004noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6577632567371809376.post-16985035469073688562012-01-14T12:48:00.000-08:002012-01-16T22:23:10.622-08:00THANKS FOR THE MEMORIES<span style="font-size: x-large;"><img height="300" id="il_fi" src="http://www.deviantart.com/download/20592292/I_m_Falling_Into_Memories_Wall_by_smashmethod.jpg" style="padding-bottom: 8px; padding-right: 8px; padding-top: 8px;" width="400" /></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">THANKS FOR THE MEMORIES</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">by</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">L.J. Holmes</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">1/14/2012</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><img alt="" class="rg_hi" data-height="183" data-width="276" height="183" id="rg_hi" sb_id="ms__id7164" src="https://encrypted-tbn2.google.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcSPeVJmDIX7fFpv50ohikFKE6eNiTeyIoxzqt_ifDrNF428DrEzsg" style="height: 183px; width: 276px;" width="276" /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Staring out the huge picture window, her nose pressed against the cool glass, she felt one hot tear forming in the corner of her eye.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">Snow! </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">Never would she have believed she'd miss snow. Moving South meant a new beginning, a new life, and new possibilities. Up above the Mason-Dixon line, her old life and all its memories...those her mind did not from time-to-time regurgitate...meant nothing to her now...mere shadows of what once was.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">All the people holding grip upon her heart, from the old days, moved down here right along with her...and yet, with Christmas coming, the longing for snow attacked her heart strings making her first Christmas here, melancholy.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">What did she actually miss? </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">Driving before, during, and after a snowstorm gave new meaning to the word "horror." </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">Before, everyone races like mad ants to the grocery and hardware stores determined to stock up on staples and purchase the newest high powered snowblower before the first back-breaking flake falls. (No one wants to shovel any more.)</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">During the storm, many drivers dare to treat the slickening roads as nothing more than dry roads with spots of moisture their four-wheel-drive vehicles can laugh at. (The rise in business at body shops during and after snowstorms prove the error of these ass-umptions.)</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">After the storm, snow mountains pile along the gutters and sides of roads, dirty crusting towers sculpted by plows and their non-stop efforts to stay ahead of road dangers, create eerie tunnels for cars to whiz through. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">Sounds somewhat safe for the whizzing through part, right? </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">Assuming those mountains don't come tumbling down from the vibrations cars driving past create, no amount of plowing, salting, and sanding can eliminate the trickiest problems that come after the snow. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">Black Ice...patches of seemingly dry pavement coated with a thin but deadly layer of invisible ice.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><img class="rg_i" data-src="https://encrypted-tbn0.google.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcTVPBy5UrAcJo4kwBMBCXgsJSn3JsbnYffV5k2ksYlo7RWxDCwi_A" data-sz="f" height="166" name="BBnkoFmcq-YTwM:" sb_id="ms__id15739" src="https://encrypted-tbn0.google.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcTVPBy5UrAcJo4kwBMBCXgsJSn3JsbnYffV5k2ksYlo7RWxDCwi_A" width="221" /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">No one, no matter how skilled a driver he or she may be, is up to beating black ice...and yet, the panorama blanket of newly fallen snow, sparkling like diamonds beneath the winter sun takes your breath away. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">The crisp clean smell after a snowstorm is unlike any other perfume mankind or science has created in a laboratory or anywhere else. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">Sighing, her mind travelling back to her country childhood, she saw the girl she'd been, seated, much as she is now, with her nose pressed against the much colder picture window's glass. The overhead lights in the eaves outside cast wide arcs of glittering luminescence, making the careening flakes racing towards the ground, appear like individual grains of twinkling diamond dust. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><img height="363" id="il_fi" sb_id="ms__id2904" src="http://www.christcenteredmall.com/stores/art/barnes/new-fallen-snow-zoom.jpg" style="padding-bottom: 8px; padding-right: 8px; padding-top: 8px;" width="550" /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Hours she spent watching Nature perform before her awe-filled eyes, oblivious to the red spreading up her happily placed nose, imagining a world as pristine as this newly wafting snow. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">And come the morning, that white sparkly blanket, untouched, unsullied, stretching as far as the eye could see made her gasp. Snow crystals laced here and there, dangling majestically from the naked branches of towering oaks, and flocking the spindly needles of pines were so much more dazzling than any artist's rendering, and they filled her heart with reverent appreciation.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">Here in the South, she loved her new life, her new friends, many now closer than family, but deep in that pocket where the memories of her childhood in the country with Christmas a breathtaking card just beyond that picture window lived, a part of her ached for... </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><em>...the memories</em>.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">Somewhere in the background, of her mind, or her new home, she heard the strains of the one song guaranteed to bring her melancholy home...</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">...Bob Hope singing "Thanks For the Memories."</span>Linhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13866209826449646004noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6577632567371809376.post-86096657519707044702011-12-12T07:00:00.000-08:002011-12-12T07:00:00.361-08:00THE LEGEND OF SANTA DOG<span style="font-size: x-large;">I was born thirteen days before Christmas. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><img alt="" class="rg_hi" data-height="199" data-width="240" height="199" id="rg_hi" sb_id="ms__id1211" 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" style="height: 199px; width: 240px;" width="240" /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">December babies frequently get gyped. Being so close to Santa's excursion, </span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><img alt="" class="rg_hi" data-height="185" data-width="272" height="185" id="rg_hi" sb_id="ms__id1211" src="data:image/jpeg;base64,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" style="height: 185px; width: 272px;" width="272" /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">our birthday's pale in the gift giving scheme of things...So I thought I'd make my last story a gift to all of you. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><img height="308" id="il_fi" sb_id="ms__id3361" src="http://gfx.glittergraphicsnow.com/uploads/posts/2010-09/1284536140_happy-holidays-glitter.gif" style="padding-bottom: 8px; padding-right: 8px; padding-top: 8px;" width="349" /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Happy Holidays to one and all. You have given me more than mere words can begin to express.</span><br />
<div align="center"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><img alt="" class="rg_hi" data-height="229" data-width="220" height="229" id="rg_hi" sb_id="ms__id5076" src="https://encrypted-tbn2.google.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcSL6MDZk9Q-bJIRitAdHCsDJA1dcwGzsu8365XOzTunLR4boVPy" style="height: 229px; width: 220px;" width="220" /></span></div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center"><span style="font-size: x-large;">THE LEGEND OF SANTA DOG</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size: x-large;">by</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size: x-large;">L.J. Holmes</span></div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="left"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Once upon a time in a land far to the North, Santa busily prepared for his most hectic day of the year. All the elves scurried and hurried filling this sack, painting the eyes on that doll, and making sure ladders attached to each bright red engines went up and down without a hitch.</span></div><div align="left"><br />
</div><div align="left"><span style="font-size: x-large;">In the kitchen, Mrs. Claus bustled from stove to table making sure Santa's girth would expand to fill out his Once-A-Year Suit...</span></div><div align="left"><br />
</div><div align="left"><span style="font-size: x-large;">But deep in the stable yards, where the reindeer grazed, there was anarchy afoot..."Why should we sail off into the night sky yet again and freeze our antlers off for a world filled with disbelievers?" grumbled Donner.</span></div><div align="left"><br />
</div><div align="left"><span style="font-size: x-large;">"Yes, yes, yes," chimed in Blitzen. "My lumbago has been more irritating this year. I see no reason to expose it to this whirlwind trip. It is time Santa realizes Christmas has lost its soul and let us grow old gracefully."</span></div><div align="left"><br />
</div><div align="left"><span style="font-size: x-large;">All the reindeer added their words of discontent, forming a unanimous front against Christmas.</span></div><div align="left"><br />
</div><div align="left"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Soon word spread throughout Santa Town the reindeer were <em>not</em> going to fly come Christmas Eve. Santa hightailed it away from Mrs. Claus' table to the stable-yards and tried every argument in his extensive book...a man as old as Santa has many to draw on you can be sure...but the reindeer were adamant!</span></div><div align="left"><br />
</div><div align="left"><span style="font-size: x-large;">What was he to do?</span></div><div align="left"><br />
</div><div align="left"><span style="font-size: x-large;">He called a meeting in the town hall and all the citizens of Santa Town arrived. Many ideas were offered, but none proved possible...time was running out.</span></div><div align="left"><br />
</div><div align="left"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Unbeknownst to Santa and the people living in Santa Town, deep in the hills surrounding Santa Town, lived a beautiful German Shepherd Dog...abandoned as a pup, the dog traveled long and hard, ending up in these very hills. From his vantage point, he watched the comings and goings in Santa Town as he grew from puppy-hood to full grown dogdom.</span></div><div align="left"><br />
</div><div align="left"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Secretly he longed to be a part of Santa's team, but if his owners had abandoned him, he reasoned, surely Santa would see how unworthy he was...yet, he continued to watch and learn.</span></div><div align="left"><br />
</div><div align="left"><span style="font-size: x-large;">He watched the reindeer; saw what they ate and how they they trained their young...He duplicated their acts, eating the same berries and brush from the Santa Town forests and practicing the same exercises...</span></div><div align="left"><br />
</div><div align="left"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Lo and behold, miracle on miracles one evening he found he could fly! </span></div><div align="left"><br />
</div><div align="left"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Still, he was sad. </span><span style="font-size: x-large;">He could fly, yes, but he was nothing more than a lowly dog. Santa would never let him be one of the team. </span></div><div align="left"><br />
</div><div align="left"><span style="font-size: x-large;">In his sad aloneness, he slipped into the moonlit darkness the very night of the town meeting, closed his eyes and lifted into the air to soar.</span></div><div align="left"><br />
</div><div align="left"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Inside the meeting hall, heartsick that Christmas would not happen this year, Santa turned his eyes to the window to beseech the Moonlight for widsom. </span></div><div align="left"><br />
</div><div align="left"><span style="font-size: x-large;">There, refelcted in the glow of the moon was a flying dog! A smile as big as the world spread across Santa's broad face, and a twinkle merrier than any he'd ever twinkled before glittered in his eyes. <em>Eureka!!!</em></span></div><div align="left"><br />
</div><div align="left"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Out through the night, Santa ran...well ran as fast as a man who can fit in the Once-A-Year-Santa-Suit could run, keeping his eye on the flying dog.</span></div><div align="left"><br />
</div><div align="left"><span style="font-size: x-large;">When the dog landed, Santa was waiting...</span></div><div align="left"><br />
</div><div align="left"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Seeing Santa, the dog, embarrassed and afraid, tried to run into the woods, but Santa called out.</span></div><div align="left"><br />
</div><div align="left"><span style="font-size: x-large;">"Please, oh wonderful dog, do not leave. You are the answer to all my prayers."</span></div><div align="left"><br />
</div><div align="left"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Hearing the conviction in Santa's voice, the dog stopped, turned and saw...was it?...admiration?...for <em>him?</em>...a lowly dog?</span></div><div align="left"><br />
</div><div align="left"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Yes, Santa admired the dog and praised him most soundly pouring out his need of him. The dog bowed, nodded twice and reverently trotted after the head of all Santa Town.</span></div><div align="left"><br />
</div><div align="left"><span style="font-size: x-large;">The reindeer quickly learned the tale of the wondrous dog, and realized not <em>all</em> of the magic of Christmas died...for deep in the heart of a wondrous dog was the spark of pure simple love...and <em>that</em> is what Christmas is all about.</span></div><div align="left"><br />
</div><div align="left"><span style="font-size: x-large;">The team returned, and for the first time ever, at the front of the team was the newly named Santa Dog...So this year, if you hear a happy barking well into the night...listen carefully...It may just be Santa Dog leading Santa right to you.</span></div>Linhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13866209826449646004noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6577632567371809376.post-79537162097334125282011-12-11T07:00:00.000-08:002011-12-11T07:00:04.176-08:00FORGIVENESS<span style="font-size: x-large;"><img alt="" class="rg_hi" data-height="190" data-width="266" height="190" id="rg_hi" sb_id="ms__id2931" src="data:image/jpeg;base64,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" style="height: 190px; width: 266px;" width="266" /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">It's the ELEVENTH of December already and </span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><img height="493" id="il_fi" src="http://www.plethorapix.com/fractals/image03/big-grin.jpg" style="padding-bottom: 8px; padding-right: 8px; padding-top: 8px;" width="369" /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">I's still here... </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">One more day to go and I have met my personal </span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><img alt="" class="rg_hi" data-height="225" data-width="225" height="225" id="rg_hi" sb_id="ms__id6511" src="https://encrypted-tbn3.google.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcTOqfFT8VeB26VbXgbDiiCwozVMoUlmHUZJxhPdr-vUWGIQdACrIg" style="height: 225px; width: 225px;" width="225" /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Nudge dare...Will I make it? There's no rhymn or reason to what I have come up with so far. </span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQLA0OW3y6S1bfMVqhiswl7EdPMlN_6gFOXjwoP-R54yOwwYJcQ2zc3Io1WZtqgBZ5FJMGupnKvzzjCfDMS04eyEKA7aoJaKA-yBcKmCcRJQK4c0z1_309fSQSxSjwaZ0c2fRDjcFRvTum/s1600/Nudge.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" mda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQLA0OW3y6S1bfMVqhiswl7EdPMlN_6gFOXjwoP-R54yOwwYJcQ2zc3Io1WZtqgBZ5FJMGupnKvzzjCfDMS04eyEKA7aoJaKA-yBcKmCcRJQK4c0z1_309fSQSxSjwaZ0c2fRDjcFRvTum/s1600/Nudge.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Nudge takes over me and you get what you get. So will Nudge stand up under the final hours and minutes?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">We'll see.</span><br />
<br />
<div align="center"><span style="font-size: x-large;"> <img alt="" class="rg_hi" data-height="215" data-width="234" height="215" id="rg_hi" sb_id="ms__id7616" src="https://encrypted-tbn3.google.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcTX3-IhK62DyD4UqhYNZTV7QA2uXNj2s2A3ON8iu7lgDsYcXhbK3g" style="height: 215px; width: 234px;" width="234" /></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><strong><em><u>FORGIVENESS</u></em></strong></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size: x-large;">by</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size: x-large;">L.J. Holmes</span></div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="left"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Forgiveness is such a simple English word...even though it is a lot more than four letters long. Actually it's eleven...hmmm today is the eleventh of December and this word has eleven letters. Prophetic?</span></div><div align="left"><br />
</div><div align="left"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Eleven little letters, lined in a row, blended to form an idea destined for emotions now stirred, that make it so very hard to let the pain go. </span></div><div align="left"><br />
</div><div align="left"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Who came up with the concept of it? Do you think they knew the monumental tasks this word requires a person wade through before coming out the other end, bloodied from the battle?</span></div><div align="left"><br />
</div><div align="left"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Memories consumed me.</span></div><div align="left"><br />
</div><div align="left"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Tears rush to fill these throbbing eyes, while blood thunders through my veins. Normally I do not feel my circulatory system, but "normal" flew out the window the moment you arrived and asked for forgiveness.</span></div><div align="left"><br />
</div><div align="left"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Shaking my head, not in negation, but conufsion and something else, I try to wade through it. I gave you my trust...I gave you my all. You took what I had, then tore me apart, through a betryal so deep, I'm not sure if I exist any more. Did I die, or does it just feel like I did?</span></div><div align="left"><br />
</div><div align="left"><span style="font-size: x-large;">You stand here, all these years later and ask forgiveness from my vanquished soul, and that trust be returned as if all shiny and new. How can I do that? Every time I see me in your eyes, I see the reflection of the fool who gave all her love and innocence to you.</span></div><div align="left"><br />
</div><div align="left"><span style="font-size: x-large;">I see your contrition, and the creases of your anguish, but tell me, how do I find the rainbows again? How do I open myself to the world with trust when every breath I take reminds me of this razor sharp pain? You reduced me and my love to nothing more than a mere moment of lust.</span></div><div align="left"><br />
</div><div align="left"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Forgiveness. The word rolls so easily from your lips I wonder if you fully understand how deep the word must travel to find the center of the hurt you inflicted? How else was I to survive?</span></div><div align="left"><br />
</div><div align="left"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Love truly is a a double bladed thing, honed upon the leather of the strop, and truth a rule that is filled with the essence of gold. You gave me the blade but not the truth, so I doubt you really cared.</span></div><div align="left"><br />
</div><div align="left"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Here is my truth, the only truth I can find...</span><span style="font-size: x-large;">Forgiving you would be the easist part of all of this, or at least I'd like to think it would, if, that is, I could find it within my heart, to first forgive the fool, that's me.</span></div><div align="left"><br />
</div><div align="left"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><img height="341" id="il_fi" src="http://www.123merrychristmas.com/upload/gallery/image/4/101/large/Animated_Merry_christmas_snowman.gif" style="padding-bottom: 8px; padding-right: 8px; padding-top: 8px;" width="403" /></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Thank you again for your visit, and I wish you all the best Christmas and New Year.</span></div>Linhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13866209826449646004noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6577632567371809376.post-76487752939497316072011-12-10T07:00:00.000-08:002012-10-20T08:40:57.647-07:00A SEARCH WITHIN<span style="font-size: x-large;"><img height="493" id="il_fi" sb_id="ms__id6550" src="http://lucrativesport.files.wordpress.com/2011/10/10.jpg" style="padding-bottom: 8px; padding-right: 8px; padding-top: 8px;" width="410" /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">December 10th...the month is in double digits already? </span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><img height="150" id="il_fi" sb_id="ms__id8036" src="http://img.whynotgif.com/wow/wow-20.gif" style="padding-bottom: 8px; padding-right: 8px; padding-top: 8px;" width="300" /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Wow!</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">Today's offering makes my fourteenth new posting. Guess the brain is still chugging right along. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><img height="300" id="il_fi" sb_id="ms__id3508" src="http://www.freechristmaswallpapers.net/images/wallpapers/Christmas-Tree-Nature1024-226431.jpeg" style="padding-bottom: 8px; padding-right: 8px; padding-top: 8px;" width="400" /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Christmas has always been a special time for me...even though I was a bit deprived of birthday cheer, being a </span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><a href="http://www.blingcheese.com/image/code/7/december+baby.htm"><img border="0" src="http://th302.photobucket.com/albums/nn101/kswyers44/th_decembergn0020308125822.gif" /></a></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">December baby...I still adored the magic of the twinking lights, gay wrappings, sparkling bows, and special meals. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">My Grandma, my most important role model, taught me about the love of family, and how important family is...I dedicate this to you, </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1FzCbt0V0GNuNimceQI0tU2ROL1_yXBZVTcGc3teZ0srlUZLimEYO-Xl_B_08e9Tdblg1EsDvnlxRrPRQKbvzCR1CybuNEj904NJarwCEFhIXwmyDzi0VPn0taneydS7BBDEmlIShj4_y/s1600/Nonnie+and+Me.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" mda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1FzCbt0V0GNuNimceQI0tU2ROL1_yXBZVTcGc3teZ0srlUZLimEYO-Xl_B_08e9Tdblg1EsDvnlxRrPRQKbvzCR1CybuNEj904NJarwCEFhIXwmyDzi0VPn0taneydS7BBDEmlIShj4_y/s320/Nonnie+and+Me.JPG" width="276" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">Nonnie. I miss you so much.</span><br />
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<strong><em><u><span style="font-size: x-large;">A SEARCH WITHIN</span></u></em></strong></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">by</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">L.J. Holmes</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">My father came to visit me recently. He's a frail man now, a mere shadow of who I've always known him to be. The booming voice that used to make me quiver in my Keds, little more than a squeak now. Gone is the girth, the overpowering strength, replaced by this fragile skeleton before me.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">I looked at him, remembering the fear I lived with in the face of his often unreasoning anger, but for the first time I saw just a man...a man with simple human flaws. I wondered had he sometimes lain in his bed, long in the endless night, scared about the repsonsibilities that come with being a parent...a dad...the bread-winner? </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">He is a man, who never knew how to speak of love. Was he speaking of love when he blasted me for racing outside, across the stoned driveway he'd just had the nearby quarry deliver to, my Keds tucked beneath my bed, my bare feet happily callused against the uneveness of the land? </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><em>"Where are your shoes</em>," he bellowed, the vein popping in the side of his neck as he glared at my naked toes. "<em>You're not some poor street urchin."</em> </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">Did he not speak words of clear love because, perhaps, no one had ever spoken them to him?</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">He's just a man who, good or bad, was still the father that raised me, the only dad I'd ever know, but smaller now, rickety, shorter even, some how...a man who I realized, is dying...perhaps not today, but soon.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">The thought of him dying has since been on my mind. How do I, the daughter who carries the layers of his cruelty, both intended and not, on my inner spirit, feel about him dying? </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">My mind swirled with the enormity of lost chances. My mother died long ago, before I'd learned the beauty of forgiveness. With Dad I still had the chance to let the past truly be behind us. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">Just as I was ready to speak the words, one of his digs, spoken shakily, escaped those shriveled lips.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">I felt my heart and soul react, but in truth, it was up to me whether he hit his target or not. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">It didn't.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">I will in, all probablility, never be close to my father...some things are beyond us both this time around. I regret that deeply. Perhaps in a lifetime to come, or in heaven with God there to guide us, we will find the bridge to undo the disconnect that exists so staunchly between us. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">For now it's enough that I could step close to this shriveled man and hug him, forgive him within my heart, tell him I loved him, not wince when his next words cut once more, and turn him over to a power higher than anything I held inside me.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">I watched him leave, this fragile little man, climbing into his shiny boat of a car, but as he pulled away, I asked God to enfold him in His vast well of love, and guide my dad, now, and when he is taken away.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">Bless you, Dad. I love you. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><img height="336" id="il_fi" src="http://www.graphics18.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/01/happy-holidays-3961.gif" style="padding-bottom: 8px; padding-right: 8px; padding-top: 8px;" width="313" /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">Again I wish you all a very Happy Holiday Season and Thank you for your ongoing support and your deeply appreciated comments.</span></div>
Linhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13866209826449646004noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6577632567371809376.post-31493238578474586302011-12-09T07:00:00.000-08:002012-10-20T08:39:05.685-07:00The Miracle Unveils<span style="font-size: x-large;"><img height="68" id="il_fi" sb_id="ms__id10276" src="http://gifs.gifmania.co.il/Animated-Gifs-Animated-Letters/Animations-Animated-Numbers/Images-Numbers-Nine/number-nine75.gif" style="padding-bottom: 8px; padding-right: 30px; padding-top: 8px;" width="56" /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">December 9th. Three more days to go. I can't believe how fast this month is </span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><a href="http://www.comments-galore.com/backgrounds/gif/Animated/Butterfly-green-purple20090716140320000000/"><img height="140" src="http://i700.photobucket.com/albums/ww6/dartin57/CACMS/animated-backgrounds/animated-butterfly-bg-1.gif" width="190" /></a></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">flying by, especially with me doing this. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><img height="375" id="il_fi" src="http://i.mnpls.com/925/92530.gif" style="padding-bottom: 8px; padding-right: 8px; padding-top: 8px;" width="410" /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">I want to thank one and all for your ongoing support. My doctor called me on Monday evening with the results of the </span><span style="font-size: x-large;">Brain MRI...actually I called the office during the day and the nurse told me I was on my doc's call list to discuss the results. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">That's never a good sign. It's true I had a mini-stroke...a much milder one than the one I had in 2008, but there's also evidence I am in the early stages of MS...so keeping my brain active is vitally important, but I want Y'all </span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz-S0FRHqw5XiB7BzxUdq7-qYmyu8otM86bDCcLSPQ5XOFn73_jAMfyRHFIJPdZViDfghOLCLULNEgwTmKuTYA2noKs633eqv_hHXtpJHkVlhX3qqOQ8TAQvV0MopRYpKMDY2e8XMngrdp/s1600/Gail+Branan+%2526+Grandson+Austin.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" mda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz-S0FRHqw5XiB7BzxUdq7-qYmyu8otM86bDCcLSPQ5XOFn73_jAMfyRHFIJPdZViDfghOLCLULNEgwTmKuTYA2noKs633eqv_hHXtpJHkVlhX3qqOQ8TAQvV0MopRYpKMDY2e8XMngrdp/s320/Gail+Branan+%2526+Grandson+Austin.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">(thank you Gail) to promise me if my words become mishmashed too badly to please let me know. I need you to help me know when it is time for me to let </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwCzPbgSMrtROzAk1t92mLECb5QqQV2Z-lBZyKgpI6ZcWaeqRi_8ZJlSelmuIhRRE4P0VBzYC7xc3_Dj6J0GoZcQRoJXUD6aOb-fdiOAN9vgdbK3OjUWyBSvIfVx8wVj4JGlRmf3wW_Suv/s1600/Nudge.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" mda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwCzPbgSMrtROzAk1t92mLECb5QqQV2Z-lBZyKgpI6ZcWaeqRi_8ZJlSelmuIhRRE4P0VBzYC7xc3_Dj6J0GoZcQRoJXUD6aOb-fdiOAN9vgdbK3OjUWyBSvIfVx8wVj4JGlRmf3wW_Suv/s1600/Nudge.jpg" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">Nudge, my inner voice, take a long...permanent...vacation.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">And on that note...let's begin:</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><img height="438" id="il_fi" src="http://www.yourmiraclestories.com/images/miracle_art300.jpg" style="padding-bottom: 8px; padding-right: 8px; padding-top: 8px;" width="300" /></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><em><strong><u>THE MIRACLE UNVEILS</u></strong></em></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">by </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">L.J. Holmes</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">Celestial angels, a choir conducted by God.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">On the twilight before the advent, the world seems still, but from this distance, the truth is revealed; only to those with eyes that see beyond all veils.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><img height="400" id="il_fi" sb_id="ms__id41048" src="http://image.blingee.com/images15/content/output/000/000/000/2dd/74085499_1281540.gif?4" style="padding-bottom: 8px; padding-right: 8px; padding-top: 8px;" width="385" /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">Glittering stars twinkle here, above the atmosphere. Moonbeams shimmer and dance around the lone body of the child. His soft, sweet body, propped on the billowy cloud, he leans over, just a little, so he can peer down, at the lush earthy topography below.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">Opening his eyes, like the lens on a rapid speed camera's shutter, he giggled with his exhilaration, eager to see what awaits below. '<em>Soon,'</em> he claps, his body vibrating with excited glee while narrowing his gaze to zoom in on just one home.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><em>'That one,' </em>he quivered happily. <em>'The one with the blue-black shutters!'</em></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">One day, one day very soon, his human feet would pitter-patter inside that suburban house, and oh what a cherished little boy he'd be.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><em>'Soon,'</em> he thought yet again, his finger-tips tingling as he clapped in merry abandon. <em>'Oh my,'</em> his little mind gasped. <em>'There he is! The man who will be my very own.'</em></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">With avid attention, the cherub watched the tall man unfold himself from the narrow confines of the land-craft; they call them cars, and stand up. <em>'Oh My!'</em> Would he one day look like this man so tall?</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">The ethereal child gnawed on that question a second or two, arching his small head this way and that, taking intricate note of the tall man's finest details. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><em>'Blue eyes,'</em> the cherub nodded. <em>'Yes,'</em> he reflected quite honestly, <em>'I would very much like having blue eyes too.'</em> He liked blue...it was the color of the sky supporting the cloud he bounced on. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><em>'Dark, expertly cut hair,'</em> the child continued. <em>'Perhaps a bit too expertly cut, but all-in-all, not bad. Not on the whole, anyway. The hair? That would be a minor thing, just a snip of a thing.'</em></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">He giggled at his joke then sobered. He felt certain, knowing himself, given time, and careful direction, from close exposure to one such as he, the man would find the looser, happier little boy still living within.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">Actually, that would be his task; his assignment so to speak, reintroducing the man to his little boy, still lurking around, buried by time, beneath the mantle of the big man shell. A daunting task, but one he eagerly anticipated creating.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><em>"Yes, him! He is your job!"</em> the <em>Big Boss</em> had lovingly commanded back at Home Base...how long ago?</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">Above the child, another shimmering white-gold cloud descended. Joseph, the child's mentor, stood on the larger cloud.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">The child adored his mentor and was deleriously happy to see him heading his way.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">Once even with the child's cloud, Joseph stepped from his billowy conveyance onto the child's. Looking past the child, with knowing eyes, Joseph cracked an almost grin. "Busy observing your future father, Zachary?"</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">Zachary blushed...well as much as a cherub could. "He's a busy man," Zachary responded shyly.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">"Too busy," Joseph agreed, wisely. "Sometimes we have noted, once in the flesh the spirit forgets. The flesh changes them. We do not fully know why, but suspsect the denisty of form, or the lowering of spiritual rites cause this. All we really know for sure, is the struggle our children face in flesh, pushes all of this," Joseph said, waving his white robed arm expansively to include everything surrounding them, "out of mind. In their daily grind, sadly, they forget."</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">Joseph turned back to look deeply into the cherub's eyes, locking the young one with his power from the ages. <em>"It is our job to intervene when we sense they are ready to learn again."</em></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">"Will he hear us?"<em> </em>Zachary frowned.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">"Not without a major wrestling," Joseph responded, sorrowfully. He shook his flowing white mane. "We have been trying to reach him for quite some time, but hurts from long ago, have built determind defenses around his heart and his soul. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">"The choices he has made have bent his spirit low. He thinks he is unworthy. We've tried to guide him, but he shakes off our whispers; calls us his <em>imagination,</em><strong> </strong>if you can but guess. So the veil grows thicker between us with each passing year."</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Joseph turned his saddened eyes back beyond the clouds down to the house with the blue-black shutters. "He chooses to ignore us; refuses to slow down long enough to hear our tender voices. You, Zachary, My Wee Young Cherub, will open his heart, so our songs can sing, and remind him of us and what a miracle he really is."</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">It was an important assignment. Zachary hoped he was up to the task. The last thing he wanted to do, was disappoint the Big Man upstairs.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">"Will I be allowed to remember?"</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Joseph's radiating gold eyes, gentled upon the face of the wee cherub. "You will always hold the memory of us inside you, but you will have to pass through the Veils of Gossamer at birth."</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">The Veils of Gossamer, as any entry level cherub knew, was the portal between spirit and flesh. Once Zachary's spirit moved through its fine netting into the density of flesh, being created this night for him, his spirit memories would begin to dim.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><em>'How would he help the man if he did not remember?'</em></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Joseph heard the cherub's silent musings. "Look around Little One. All clouds carry messengers from us. Angels every single one of them in God's Mighty Batallion. You may not remember we are here, Little Zachary; you may not hear our voices; you may even believe, like many do, that what you hear is only your own imagination at work.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">"But, you will still hear us, and a seed will take root and spread." Joseph stressed pointing towards the man below. "To help him find his inner light, though, you need do no more than just be Zachary. He will find his miracle just from that."</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Zachary smiled, a beatific child's smile. He looked upon the many angels riding the puffy clouds, and then back at the man disappearing into the house. "I will like being his little boy," he softly decreed.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Joseph's smile this time grew so brilliant, a stream of multi-colored sparklers shot out and lit up the Earth-bound sky.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Down below, just as the man turned to close the door behind him, a rainbow, more beautiful than any he'd seen before, stretched as far across the sky as he could see, igniting a happy spark, deep inside him.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">He may not be aware of it yet, this man down below, but on the hovering cloud Zachary and Joseph both knew, the miracle had just begun. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<img height="317" id="il_fi" src="http://deptford.cecc.schoolfusion.us/modules/groups/homepagefiles/cms/969284/Image/christmas_animated_gif_35.gif" style="padding-bottom: 8px; padding-right: 8px; padding-top: 8px;" width="443" /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">To all my readers, I wish you a glorious, miracle filled Holiday Season and all the days to follow.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
Linhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13866209826449646004noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6577632567371809376.post-28203497917071585052011-12-08T07:00:00.000-08:002011-12-08T07:00:02.391-08:00The Bells Chime<div align="center"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><img border="0" height="143" hspace="0" src="http://www.englishexercises.org/makeagame/my_documents/my_pictures/2009/dec/9F5_one_christmas_bell_ri_a_lw.gif" width="143" /></span></div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center"><span style="font-size: x-large;">The Bells Chime</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size: x-large;">by </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size: x-large;">L.J. Holmes</span></div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Family tradition, it was all I had left of the one who nurtured me when I so desperately needed nurturing. Through the years, I passed those traditions down to my own beloved child. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">December arrived this year with a spectacular blizzard. As a child I used to sit with my nose pressed against the picture window, watching with awe the swirling elegance and grace of the snow flakes making their way to join the sparkling blanket their brethren already made. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Now, in my twilight years, I content myself with watching the new flakes swirl wearing a shawl and a blanket to keep out the bite from the cracks I am too old to caulk any more, but delighted with this proof that Christmas is just around the corner.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Yes, cold, I feel it more these days. I guess what they said when I was young is true...the older you get the more your body's immunity to life's harsher realities fades into distant memory.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Earlier today, I managed to creak my way into the attic. Christmas is coming, and nothing, not even bones riddled with arthritis could keep me from following through on the traditions I still cling to.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Rumaging through boxes I'd forgotten to label, had been enlightening. Snippets from my life long ago, and some from a yesterday mere heartbeats away reminded me of so much.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">My tired eyes filled with soft tears when I opened the box that held the Christening Gown my baby girl wore less than one month after her birth. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Touching the lace and velvet I'd hand made from the gown I'd married in, with my tired, wrinkled hand, made me travel back in time, to the young mother, beaming down at the baby girl nestled so securely in my loving embrace. I loved being a mom.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">And the sound of bell chimes filled the attic. I smiled...both a sad smile and a smile of quiet peace.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">I miss her. Especially now with Christmas coming. Parents are not supposed to outlive their children, but a drunk, a selfish drunk, chose to drive after a liquid lunch...</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">I remember the sound of the car's brakes squealing as it shot over the embankment onto our property. I made it to that same picture window I watched the snowflakes fall from just in time to see my little girl roll beneath the jeep truck the drunk operated, and could still hear my screams as I shot from my house...too late...too late...too late.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">They tell me I was a zombie in the days, weeks and yes, months that followed. I think I died that day, but my body was too stupid to realize it....until that first Christmas Eve.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Certain I imagined them, I ignored the bell chimes at first, but they refused to be ignored. Everywhere I went I heard them...but no one else did. Grief can make you do and think crazy things. I dismissed them at first, but the chimes surrounded me the closer Christmas came.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Turning my rheumy eyes from the snow storm I gazed at the tree, twinkling across the room...the only illumination actually in the house other than the crackling and popping in the fireplace. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">My daughter loved the magic of Christmas, but I wanted nothing to do with it after...well...after...</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Until the chimes.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">The night before Christmas, that first year, I steadfastly refused to celebrate the season. All I wanted was to curl up and follow my beloved child. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">The fireplace crackled that night too, but my heart was filled with dark pain. And then the bells chimed again, the ones that had been following me everywhere for weeks.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">I wanted to scream at them and tell them to shut up. I even opened my mouth to spew my fury, when a golden bell drifted down before me; it's ring the most beautiful sound I'd ever heard. Still I did not want to find anything beautiful. My life was empty...my child gone.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">The bell hovered in the air between me and the fire, and began playing my child's favorite Christmas hymn. Golden motes of sparkling essence shot out from the bell with each note, and as I watched those motes coalesced into an angel...my angel...my angel-girl. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Her radiance reached into my broken heart and filled it with love, unconditional. All around me bells joined in, a choir of angels. Like a miracle, my daughter, my angel-girl rose to the top of the tree and became my Christmas Angel while the Choir bells chimed most beautifully. The room, lit only by the fireplace, grew brighter with the sparkling glow from halos and wings filling my heart until it had no darkness left within it. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Into my heart and my mind, my Angel-Girl spoke, giving me comfort and assuring me she had not left me, even though I could not always see her. She promised every Christmas Eve, the bells will chime and my Angel-Girl will come and share our tradition once more.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">The snow outside swirled, and the sounds of bells chiming grew louder. The Christmas tree blazed with celestial beauty when one gold bell sent off motes that became my Christmas Angel, atop my tree...My Angel-Girl, come once more to share with me our love of Christmas, each other, and a tradition not even death could destroy.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><img height="351" id="il_fi" src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v338/riccardopatrese/Imagini/christmas-animated-gifs-062.gif" style="padding-bottom: 8px; padding-right: 8px; padding-top: 8px;" width="466" /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">To all I wish you all the miracles of the Holidays and may you know the wonder of your </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><img height="284" id="il_fi" src="http://www.chgtrlsn.com/images/Angel_Girl_Animated.gif" style="padding-bottom: 8px; padding-right: 8px; padding-top: 8px;" width="320" /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Angel-Girl.</span></div>Linhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13866209826449646004noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6577632567371809376.post-40516646026509094652011-12-07T07:00:00.000-08:002011-12-07T07:00:10.781-08:00THE LION ROARS TONIGHT<a href="http://www.animationlibrary.com/animation/19287/5/"><img alt="5" id="19287" src="http://www.gifs.net/Animation11/Alphabets/Sand/5.gif" style="background: #ccccbb; border-bottom: #aaaaaa 2px solid; border-left: #aaaaaa 2px solid; border-right: #aaaaaa 2px solid; border-top: #aaaaaa 2px solid; float: right; margin: 10px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 2px; padding-right: 2px; padding-top: 2px;" width="100" /></a><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Five more days...I think my hair is whiter than when I started this challenge back on November 27th. Was I insane to do this? Obviously...which is kinda counter-productive since I took this on to PROVE the brain is still working despite the TIA hiccup I had four?...five?...weeks ago now?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">But alas, I am a creature of habit...I dared myself, and I never turn down a dare...so here is today's new tale...a lot darker, and probably scarier...especially with Christmas so nearby, but anyone who can face the Christmas shopping hoardes, is fearless. To them I dedicate this story.</span><br />
<br />
<div align="center"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><u><strong><em>The Lion Roars Tonight</em></strong></u></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size: x-large;">by</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size: x-large;">L.J. Holmes</span></div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center"></div><div align="left"><span style="font-size: x-large;">She'd heard the legend...who hadn't? The legend ranked all the way up there with the legend of the werewolf, or the vampire count. As with most legends, the telling and retelling of the scary tales had added to the mystique surrounding the original story...which was probably based on nothing more terrifying than a rabid alley cat.</span></div><div align="left"><br />
</div><div align="left"><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-size: x-large;"><strong>BEWARE OF THE ONE WITH THE HAIR THAT GLISTENS LIKE THAT OF A STALKING PANTHER, A BODY HONED AND CHISELED LIKE THAT OF THE MIGHTY PUMA, THE BRAND OF THE TIGER ON HIS RIGHT UPPER TORSO, AND THE MESMERIZING GOLD OF THE LIONTYNE KING IN HIS EYES.</strong></span></div><div align="left"><br />
</div><div align="left"><span style="font-size: x-large;">The legend, whispered on dark stormy nights, kept young and old shivering in their skins as lightning and thunder crashed like cymbals and firebrands with each eerie detail of the Legend's feats.</span></div><div align="left"><br />
</div><div align="left"><span style="font-size: x-large;">"He mauls, then devours all who cross his path," cackled many a spinstery old lady.</span></div><div align="left"><br />
</div><div align="left"><span style="font-size: x-large;">"No, no, no!" counter the wickedly demonic old men. "He ravishes young beauties who dare go walking unprotected in the night, and then at the moment of ecstasy, releases his victim from life in one mighty swipe of his sharpened claw." </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Yes, she had heard them all ever since she was old enough to sit up and shiver before a crackling fire on many a tempetuous night. But she was no longer a tiny tot, shaking in her Doctor Dentons, nor was she terrified of the silver blasts of illumination from a lightning storm in summer. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">She'd reached the age of majority...a woman now. Her long. flowing red-gold hair almost down to the middle of her back, her vibrant hazel eyes sparkling with intelligence, and her shapely body moved through the darkened night with the ease and steadfastness of one who has often walked this way.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Life had taught her there are many things that could cause her harm and fear, but rarely were they the manifestations of old legends.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">On this particular night, she wore a deep blue velvet cape that shielded her body from the pelting rain. On her feet, she wore the same shade of leather boots...not really rain boots, but she'd treated them with waterproofing so they would stand against the flowing rivulets racing down the streets towards the gutter openings.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">If it were not for the luminescent coloring of her hair, she would easily blend into the turbulent darkness surrounding her. But unbeknownst to her one in the shadows watched...and waited.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Logically, she should not be out in this, she reasoned, and then laughed that thought away. She loved Mother Nature in all her many guises, even when she raged with the force of a nor'easter. If anything, the power of the storm energized her, made her burdens seem miniscule...made her own person, seem little more than a speck in the overall scheme of things.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">A sports car zoomed around the corner on two wheels sending a spray of water up in its wake that doused her completely. Although it was summer, the storm cooled air against her now totally drenched body made her shiver.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">She should get back. The last thing she needed was to come down with pneumonia.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Had she not turned around at that very moment, she would never have known...or perhpas it would be more accurate to say, she would not have known until it was too late. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">He was not far...had he been there a moment ago? She did not think so.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">He was leaning, casually, against the door-frame of one of the stores along the main concourse. His eyes glittered in the dim light, much the way the eyes of a jack'o'lantern would glitter from the candle's flame within...But there was nothing hollow about the shadowed silhouette in the door frame. The golden eyes were attached to a very solid, very real man-creature.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">A tremor orbited through her that had nothing to do with the icy tendrils caused by the wind against her wet skin. For one seemingly eternal moment, she froze. Just as quickly as her body went rigid, her mind began chastising her for her fooilishness. He's a <em>man</em>, nothing more, nothing less, and she was not without ample skills to protect herself against anything a man might try.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Squaring her shoulders, she placed one foot in front of another, ever conscious of the shadow framed by the storefront. He did not move. She wasn't even certain he breathed, but sticking around to find out, out of the question.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Still she refused to give in to fear and run. Each step seemed to take forever, and brought her closer to where he stood. The closer she got, the more the air seemed to be permeated with a raw animal musk scent that set every one of her nerve endings on high alert.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">She was almost past him when a hand...or a claw, reached out and in one continuous move, pulled her hard against raw, solid strength. She would have screamed...at least she was fairly certain she would have screamed, but his pelt covered muzzle came down crushing her lips, forcing them open, claiming her mouth with a determination that stole her strength. Her knees began shaking, and her body quiver. There would be no escape.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Without breaking his assault upon her mouth, his free hand...claw?...reached down and tore the cape and blouse open. The claw, it had to be a claw, began cupping the supple flesh beneath. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Fire began licking her in places the beast was not exploring, deep in her womb and it spread.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Dear God, she thought frantically, this...creature...was making her climax, right here, standing in the pouring rain, her blouse in shreds, her lips swollen and her nipples tender and hot.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Without breaking stride he tore her skirt, again with one rip. Before she could try to squirm, he arched his body and with one powerful thrust, entered her deeply, completely.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">She wanted to cry out...whether in fury or in ecstasy she couldn't be sure. Her body felt like a living blue flame, the hottest element within a fire, and it was moving through her like a furnace.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Rapidly he moved, this primal creature, mastering her with the sheer force of his control.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Lightning lit up the sky and thunder boomed at the exact moment he tipped her over the edge and her life erupted from her. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Death had come.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">She awakened the next morning in her bed. Beside her, her legend slept deeply. It had been a long night for them, competing with the fury of Nature's temper. How she loved stormy nights when her beast came out to ravage and devour her over and over again.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">A smile played on her lips. They were calling for another storm tomorrow night...Mmmmm she would have to make sure to repair, wash and make ready her "Lady in the Night" togs again.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">She reached over, ever so gently and placed her lips on the brand of the tiger; a tattoo that spoke volumes about her beast's passions. Stifling a contented yawn, she grinned once more, snuggled down close to him and drifted off into sleep once more.</span></div><div align="left"><br />
</div><div align="left"><br />
</div><div align="left"><span style="font-size: x-large;">The closer we get to the Holidays, the more my jingle is merry. </span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><img height="493" id="il_fi" src="http://www.lensclearance.com/v/vspfiles/assets/images/happy-holidays-comments-myspace-animation-christmas-graphics.gif" style="padding-bottom: 8px; padding-right: 8px; padding-top: 8px;" width="552" /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">So Happy Holidays all.</span></div>Linhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13866209826449646004noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6577632567371809376.post-34931927618823010512011-12-06T07:00:00.000-08:002012-10-20T08:38:46.841-07:00AN OMELET IS...<span style="font-size: x-large;"><img height="180" id="il_fi" sb_id="ms__id6995" src="http://gifs.gifmania.co.il/Animated-Gifs-Animated-Letters/Animations-Animated-Numbers/Images-Numbers-Six/number-six60.gif" style="padding-bottom: 8px; padding-right: 8px; padding-top: 8px;" width="180" /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">December 6th...only six more days to go to complete my challenge.</span><br />
<img height="450" id="il_fi" sb_id="ms__id9587" src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4006/4400024620_50d56933a7_o.gif" style="padding-bottom: 8px; padding-right: 8px; padding-top: 8px;" width="450" /><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">And today's is weird, but then a lot of my offerings of late have been weird. How weird? To paraphrase the little, news criers standing on corners at the beginning of the </span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><img alt="" class="rg_hi" data-height="201" data-width="251" height="201" id="rg_hi" sb_id="ms__id3129" 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" 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<span style="font-size: x-large;">last century hawking the latest bulletins from the newspapers of the time, may I just say...Read all about it!</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><img alt="" class="rg_hi" data-height="183" data-width="276" height="183" id="rg_hi" sb_id="ms__id4232" src="https://encrypted-tbn2.google.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcQl9leVTQAUiu2JMQQjQUeH6FXAQlO7VrC51qJYRPIHggdIt7qBvQ" style="height: 183px; width: 276px;" width="276" /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">An Omelet is a Terrible Thing to Waste,</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">by</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">L.J. Holmes</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">When you awaken and there is a strange man at the foot of your bed, you have every right to question where your sanity went while you were sleeping. Obviously it's not still with you. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">So when I saw him there, looking different, and yet somewhat familiar, I had to check out the rest of the room. No men in white coats? Had I sleep strolled into some bizarre other dimension where we were about to rehearse a play I have no memory of signing up for?</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">Finding my voice took a few starts. You'd be amazed how blocked your vocal chords are when you awaken to a strange man at the foot of your bed. Clearing the throat makes some of the most godawful sounds, but eventually you can string more than a few hacking words together.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">"Who," I asked a bit breathlessly...not the passionate kind of breathless, more the, 'have I stepped into the Twilight Zone?' kind of breathlessness..."are you?"</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">"Hmmph," the crazy man said, "You don't recognize me?"</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">I wasn't quite sure how to answer that. I knew who he resembled, but also short of a brain meltdown, which I probably was experiencing, no way could he be who I thought he resembled. So I stammered..."Uhhhh."</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">"Trust your first guess," he said with an awkward grin. He didn't open his mouth to give me a big grin...and then I remembered...wooden teeth. Do ghosts have wooden teeth?</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">Shaking my head, I scooted back so I was now resting against my backrest, after adjusting my pillows without once taking my eyes off of him. I know, seems impossible, but I'm multi-talented, and I was so not taking my eyes off of him. "You can't be him," I denied vigorously.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">"Can't I?" he asked shrugging his broad shoulders. "You more than most know the truth."</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">"But," I argued, "if you are who you seem to be, why me?"</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">"Well now, why not you? Of course it helps that you can see me," he said with a twinkle in his wise eyes. "Mind if I sit down?" he asked pointing to the folding chair, my meditating chair, propped against my far wall.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">I nodded and watched the impossible to be here visitor walk to the chair, wrestle it open, plop his impressive self down and turn those powerful eyeballs back at me.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">I gulped. 'Oh Lord! I've gone over the edge!' No other explanation made sense. My sanity had been comforting while I maintained it. Now that I'd flipped, I wasn't sure I liked the dark side of my brain.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">"You can stop frowning," the apparition said. "I really am here, but don't worry. You're not the only one waking to find one of us waiting patiently to talk to you."</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">"I'm no one," I insisted. "But you..."</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">"Me? I'm a dead man...a long in the dirt, dead man. And I really am who you think I am."</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">"If you are, why would you seek me out?"</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">"You're smart, and you'll figure out how to present my presence and what we're going to discuss for the masses."</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">"Huh?"</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">"Interesting word, 'huh'. Okay, let's get down to business. You <em>do</em> recognize me, right?"</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">"Well," I said with a reluctant twist to my lips, "you look like..." I so didn't want to name this apparition, or figment of my imagination, but as twisted as my mind must now be, it urged me on. "George Washington?" It came out as a high pitched squeak, but it was now out.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">The man in the folding chair grinned. "I knew I hadn't been forgotten. Had a bet with Ben Franklin and John Adams...who are, by the way, visiting with others at this very moment, along with several others," he said all seriousness all of a sudden.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">"Why?'</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">"That's what we're here to talk about. Everyone thinks once you move beyond the veil, you have no interest in what's going on here, but it's not true. At least not for all of us."</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">George's eyes met mine and held them like Krazy glue. "You want to take notes?" he asked.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">Actually I wanted to go back to sleep and really wake up from the dream I obviously was snared in, but I dumbfoundedly nodded, reached inside my bed stand, pulled out the inevitable notebook and pen every writer keeps close at hand, and opened it to a blank page.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">"Are you ready? I promise I'll speak slowly enough, since I know you never took shorthand."</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">I raised my eyes and felt them go wide with shock.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">"Again, we <em>do</em> keep tabs, especially on those we mean to reveal ourselves to. You're smart as a whip, but no body's secretary, so why bother with learning shorthand?" he said in a deep, resonating voice.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">Sitting here, propped against my bed rest, staring at the maybe ghost of the first President of the newly formed United States, was surreal. Hearing his voice, I understood why he once commanded the entire army of the Revolutionary War.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">"Your history books no longer teach the truth,"he said starkly. "They teach a minuscule, white washed version, and that's why so many of us have elected to reach out and share the truth with a few that can in one medium or another, remind our descendants why we did what we did."</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">'Oh Boy!' I thought. I have a bad digestive system under the best of circumstances. Somehow I doubted my intestines, all the many miles of it, were going to be happy when all this was done.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">"The Revolutionary War," George began, his voice bouncing off of every wall in my bedroom, "was a vicious battle. Wars are not pretty and should never be undertaken without knowing the full devastation it brings into all the lives of those who engage in them.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">"Wars of late have been waged by people who have never stepped into a uniform, have no family member wearing the uniform, and don't understand from personal experience what war is. To them it is like directing a game.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">"And that's just it...it's not a game. It's not a chessboard with pieces to be sacrificed to save the King. <em>We</em> fought our war to <em>end </em>the rule of the King, and it was a bloody, godawful war," he said taking a deep breath before continuing.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">"The winter in Valley Forge alone came close to destroying our focus. Had I not been there, in the trenches with my men, I don't think we would have won our war. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">"Many stayed in Philadelphia, it's true, but I was right there, and when I became President, I could have held onto that position for the rest of my life...but we would have replaced one king for another.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">"The men that followed me into office, and those that made up the first Congresses all knew what it was like to be in the trenches. Today only one in five hundred of those making up high ranking positions have either served or have family members who've served.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">"In my day, it's true, we did not include women, such as yourself, to become a part of government. That is one progressive move we all approve of. Surprised? Just as you are a product of your time, <em>we</em> were products of our time.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">"There are other forward thinking things America has accomplished, but war is not a whim, and to not treat it with the reticence it deserves, and not make all subject to it's destructiveness is wrong. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">"In my day, we valued the truth of war and appreciated what winning it meant. We fought for our land, our dignity, our right to be respected, and our future. Men and boys from all walks of life joined the cause, always knowing today might be their last day.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">"Once you've spilled blood, watched your friend, spill blood, then you know what war truly is, and you'll give it the wide berth it deserves. War has become too easy because so few who make the big decisions have donned the uniform, lifted the gun and faced their own mortality and the mortality of the enemy."</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">The silence that followed George Washington's words hung heavily in the air between us. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">"Mr. President," I finally said after gulping a time or two, "what can I do? Again, Sir, I am no one. I have no power. I haven't the ear of anyone who does have power. I am nothing more than a woman with disabilities too numerous to mention."</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">"No," George disagreed shaking his white powdered, and bewigged head. "Many who rose to the status of 'hero' during my time, were alleged no-bodies before their heroic act got them in the history books for all time. Betsy Ross sewed some strips together, added some stars, and created a flag, yet today she is praised because she knew how to thread a needle.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">"There is no such thing as a nobody, and that is why wars should never be started without careful thought and everyone having a stake in the outcome. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">"I don't know why the draft was eliminated, but in doing so, America is no longer equal. All men," he said, and then nodded his head wryly, "and women, are created equal. No one is more dispensable than another. And that's what we, the Founding Fathers want you, our descendants to remember. You cannot afford to treat one cog in the overall wheel as less important than any other cog. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">"Child, somehow you must share my words with the rest of the descendants who've inherited this amazing world we fought so hard to begin. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">"Abraham Lincoln did not want to declare war against his brethren, and he battled long and hard against it. Gettysburg, another town in Pennsylvania carries the moans of so many lives cut down, over what was the right thing for all of America. That war was regrettable, but necessary.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">"Times changed and he recognized what some of us in my time did not...because of his wisdom, the President currently living in the White House was given the opportunities my generation denied his people. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">"War is not clean and we should never jump into one without knowing what war is.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">"That, My Child is my message. We need to bring back the fairness of all being subject to paying the price for the decision of war. When the draft was ended, the depth of the destruction war brings has been lost to the masses. It needs to come back."</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">"Mr. President, who will listen?"</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">"No one, if the words aren't out there, but like the pebble in the lake, it makes little impact, one would think, but the ripples that pebble releases eventually alter every inch, every fathom, every creature within that lake. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">"So you have my message. I will leave you now, and let you figure out how to spread my message."</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">I watched what moments ago seemed to be a solid man, fade into sparkling motes of energy and then just disappear.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Looking over the notes, I felt my gut flip a time or two. I am not a militant person, but everything the President said made sense to me. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">In that moment though, I knew my title...An Omelet is a Terrible Thing To Waste. Because I had a feeling my brain had cracked and an omelet a la brain was on the menu.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><img height="100" id="il_fi" sb_id="ms__id8877" src="http://4ufriendz.hexat.com/images/thank_you_animated_gif_1.gif" style="padding-bottom: 8px; padding-right: 8px; padding-top: 8px;" width="180" /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Thanks for stopping by again. Check in for the next in my daily challenges...and</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><a href="http://images2.layoutsparks.com/1/66326/happy-holidays-animated-lights.gif" title="Happy Holidays Animated Lights"><img alt="Happy Holidays Animated Lights" src="http://images2.layoutsparks.com/1/66326/happy-holidays-animated-lights.gif" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; height: 360px; width: 410px;" /></a></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Happy Holidays</span></div>
Linhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13866209826449646004noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6577632567371809376.post-14158041183338072402011-12-05T07:00:00.000-08:002011-12-05T07:00:14.432-08:00THE MOMENT OF UNDERSTANDING<span style="font-size: x-large;">December 5th...after today seven more days to go.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><img height="150" id="il_fi" sb_id="ms__id18092" src="http://gifs.gifmania.co.il/Animated-Gifs-Animated-Letters/Animations-Emoticons-Letters/Images-Alphabet-Colorful-Emoticons/colorful-emoticon-number-7.gif" style="padding-bottom: 8px; padding-right: 8px; padding-top: 8px;" width="150" /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">I'm running out of ideas...and that's scary. I really feared I'd have nothing to bring to the table today, but then this came...</span><br />
<br />
<div align="center"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><img alt="" class="rg_hi" data-height="248" data-width="204" height="248" id="rg_hi" sb_id="ms__id20746" src="https://encrypted-tbn0.google.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcSy12Qp9EG7WLvJFL-daYmvtY4RLr_eiGyrWN2FEVkw27Eha78y" style="height: 248px; width: 204px;" width="204" /></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size: x-large;">THE MOMENT OF UNDERSTANDING</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size: x-large;">by</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size: x-large;">L.J. Holmes</span></div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Madonna and child.</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size: x-large;">For the first time he understood</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Kneeling before her,</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size: x-large;">His eyes tenderly passed over her.</span></div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Her beautiful features,</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Softened as she nestles,</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size: x-large;">The down-covered head of their child,</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size: x-large;">To the nourishing swell of her breast.</span></div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center"><span style="font-size: x-large;">How could one woman,</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Once beautiful, angelic temptress,</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Of a mere woman,</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Come to mean so much to him?</span></div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center"><span style="font-size: x-large;">With reverence he had no idea,</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size: x-large;">He was capable of feeling,</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size: x-large;">He extended one tensile finger,</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size: x-large;">And ever so lightly reached towards her.</span></div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center"><span style="font-size: x-large;">He skimmed from the full upper curve,</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Of her baby-fastened breast,</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Down to the suckling lips of child,</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Onward to the sleek contracting cheeks.</span></div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Yes, for the first time he understood.</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Love is so much grander,</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Than he'd ever known before,</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Deeper than his heart could contain.</span></div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Love is an ache beyond his loins,</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size: x-large;">A heaviness in the region of his heart,</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size: x-large;">And a swelling pride from his very soul,</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Love is one word...wife!</span></div>Linhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13866209826449646004noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6577632567371809376.post-86252411991074374662011-12-04T09:08:00.000-08:002011-12-04T10:58:48.578-08:00IT'S MY JOB<span style="font-size: x-large;">December </span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><span style="font-size: x-large;"><img class="rg_i" data-sz="f" height="167" name="jW_8ypUfyLAtCM:" sb_id="ms__id13876" 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<span style="font-size: x-large;">4th is here and so is my next orginal. Wow this has not been easy. I think I have a head ache...is it from the trials of creating so much new stuff in such a short time, or because the topic of this one is headache fodder? Don't know. But I am determined to muddle through...so let's get to it.</span><br />
<br />
<div align="center"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><img alt="" class="rg_hi" data-height="168" data-width="300" height="168" id="rg_hi" sb_id="ms__id16117" src="https://encrypted-tbn1.google.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcSIhuAokzjIrHLWPgN6TApLGe6dzn_ms1qiVH6l8luh0BJ4mFNXGg" style="height: 168px; width: 300px;" width="300" /></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size: x-large;">IT'S MY JOB</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size: x-large;">by </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size: x-large;">L.J. Holmes</span></div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">What's the big deal? You all act like I've got stuff attached to my teeth, or I haven't changed my underwear in a week.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">I'm sixteen, for pity's sake, not over the hill like the rest of you. It's not my fault, you know. Surely you see that. I mean how can I be to blame for being the drop-dead gorgeous hunk that's me?</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Being a hunk is really not an easy thing to be, you know. On my shoulders I carry a major responsibility. Girls from far and near take one look at me and go all gooey and dithery inside.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Should I hurt them by looking away, or not treat them to the wonder of time spent with me? They know, because girls always talk, that I'm a gift, but only temporarily. Don't frown...it's not becoming.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Imagine the pain I would cause these poor dears if I didn't accept their obvious invitations to date them a time or two and, you know, explore all their seductive possibilities. That would be so much unkinder, don't you see?</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">I am careful, quite conscientious, you should know, about taking precautions more than a tad seriously. My seed will not be planted yet...not when there are still so many landscapes for my plow to till, and we don't want to talk about evil beasties invading the perfection I was born to be.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Okay, let's get this out of the way. I have never yet proclaimed undying love to any of my many. That would be dishonest and amateurish...also beyond redeem. I do not con the sweets I nibble, nor promise more than a dip or two. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">There are those who say I am immoral. Immoral to me, would have to be promising a band of gold or tin when I am, after all, just a boy...I'm sixteen...especially since I know, without doubt, tomorrow or the day after, another lovely will wink, and my duties, as a drop-deap-gorgeous-hunk, will take over once more.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">So what's the problem? Why all the flack? It's not like I mine two at the same time on the very same night. I'd be far too exhausted if I did that, and then what good would I be to all those others waiting for me?</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Oh yeah! Check it out! See that fox over there? She just looked my way and licked her pouty lips. Just because I'm dating three others, should I disappoint her and pass her by? What kind of a hunk would I be?</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Think about how hurt she'll be if I don't sidle on over there and draw her towards my rightness. Why she might even become despondent over me.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Nope! It's my patriotic duty to spend time with her and share the gift of my grandiosity. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">The world just doesn't fully understand I do all this, not for my own pleasure, but out of sheer duty. So when you frown, and judge me harshly, just remember, someone has to do it, so it might as well be me.</span></div>Linhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13866209826449646004noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6577632567371809376.post-79276843063713684832011-12-03T07:00:00.000-08:002011-12-03T07:00:01.374-08:00SEASONED TWINS by L.J. Holmes<span style="font-size: x-large;">December 3rd already. With the completion of this story I have only NINE more stories to go to meet my personal challenge. Will I make it?</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" class="rg_hi" data-height="160" data-width="128" id="rg_hi" sb_id="ms__id2419" src="https://encrypted-tbn0.google.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcT818iVp6sZ13fluW2D_Xy4IIYtc6F930QXEkMagltawlvkH0S1tQ" /></span></div><br />
<div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center"><span style="font-size: x-large;">SEASONED TWINS</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size: x-large;">by L.J. Holmes</span></div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center"><br />
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</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">His hair is sparse...time moved on...and his muscles, well, they've sagged or just disappeared. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Looking into the stark reality of the mirror, she sees her waist has thickened, her complexion sallowed from all the many days gone by as time moved on in it's relentless way. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Seasoned they both are.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">He still calls her "Hon" and holds her hand, and she still reaches out for that connection, that bond. Age may have slowed them, changed them a bit, but when he looks at her through his tired eyes, he sees his young and beautiful wife.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Time moves on.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Passion has deepened, is slower to warm, but fills every muscle instead. Long ago she knew he was her symphony and he knew she was his song, his friend, his lover for life.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Summers, winters, autumns and springs...they've seen them all, over and over, and loved their way through with a quietness and awe, a respect that shows love is enduring, and a source of pure strength. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Many of their friends were unable to weather life's storms. They turned to them for answers, a pattern, a plan. But love is a lifestyle, not a job or a whim. Your mate is your future, your life, and she is your twin.</span></div>Linhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13866209826449646004noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6577632567371809376.post-28575397045360638022011-12-02T07:00:00.000-08:002011-12-03T10:30:43.288-08:00THE FRILLS ARE MINE<span style="font-size: x-large;"><img src="http://www.capriogroup.com/webstuff/Images/AnimatedGIFs/Animated-Calendar-December.gif" /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">December 2nd and time for the next pearls of original tales from the convoluted brain of me...L.J Holmes.</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKWREDJctgWFwwasCXrhIXhix5plKtocgunRQIK7g85Rv620VfEDUS6hQg-bsaT90rXohAra5oGIN_uIQxmi_PzH9C6KMUCuR1Ck97aJM_NZxKl4Ml80EI2dfOZUO0R2dDHtLUQotQugwT/s1600/Kathy+Reading+Again.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" dda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKWREDJctgWFwwasCXrhIXhix5plKtocgunRQIK7g85Rv620VfEDUS6hQg-bsaT90rXohAra5oGIN_uIQxmi_PzH9C6KMUCuR1Ck97aJM_NZxKl4Ml80EI2dfOZUO0R2dDHtLUQotQugwT/s1600/Kathy+Reading+Again.JPG" /></a></div><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">My daughter tells me I'm nuts to have twelve blogs...having twelve blogs is a cakewalk compared to coming up with new stories every day between 11/27 and my second time over the hill birthday on 12/12. Will this brain that has recently suffered a </span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><img alt="" class="rg_hi" data-height="231" data-width="218" height="231" id="rg_hi" sb_id="ms__id10905" src="https://encrypted-tbn0.google.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcRevZSEuU_VDu--SYG2JlYlWlqYF_D6b2kOdDC7_YE6qAM-4hA" style="height: 231px; width: 218px;" width="218" /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">mini-stroke stand up under the pressure...and if it does, will anything that comes out of it be worthwhile?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><img height="220" id="il_fi" sb_id="ms__id11745" src="http://gifs.gifmania.co.il/Animated-Gifs-Animated-Letters/Animations-Animated-Numbers/Images-Numbers-Six/number-six61.gif" style="padding-bottom: 8px; padding-right: 8px; padding-top: 8px;" width="150" /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Here goes installment SIX:</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" class="rg_hi" data-height="279" data-width="181" height="279" id="rg_hi" sb_id="ms__id1260" src="https://encrypted-tbn0.google.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcQ2-nh6UF0P16byxW5OmLb_8f8LrJmqvP5BX-_PsMRP7Qt36hLP" style="height: 279px; width: 181px;" width="181" /></span></div><br />
<div align="center"><span style="font-size: x-large;">THE FRILLS ARE MINE</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size: x-large;">by</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size: x-large;">L.J. Holmes</span></div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">My name is Lou. Actually my name is Louise Anne Corey, but I haven't used my full name since I was eleven years old and came to live at the Silver Saddle Saloon. I came here after my parents and my brother were killed by a band of marauding Indians while we were heading to Oregon. This is California, or at least that's what Lil, the owner of the Silver Saddle tells me.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Lil took me in 'cause I had nowhere else to go and she liked the way I look. She told me I had nice bones and the men who come down from the hills with their pockets bulging with gold would like me too.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">At first Lil kept me away from the saloon 'cause I didn't know how to dance, I sung like a frog with a bad case of consumption, and my figure was only just beginning to show signs of the curves that were yet to come. I was a kid.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">In my early days with Lil, I slept in her rooming house across the dusty street from the saloon. During slow times, Lil spent many an hour showing me how to flip my skirt to the tunes I often heard pouring out of the saloon on the nights the miners were in town. My voice? Well if the piano player bangs the keys hard enough, you really can't tell that a cat serenading beneath the moon sounds better. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">I was fifteen when Lil finally decided I was ready to turn in my dust rag, which is how I earned my keep, for the wilder, crazier world beyond the swinging doors of the Silver Saddle Saloon. But nothing could have prepared me for this new, and unpredictable world.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">My dancing, which was little more than tossing my skirt high enough into the air to give the drunken patrons ample glimpses of my gartered legs and petticoated waist, brought many a cheer, and many an offer of further games. Those were conducted upstairs in the privacy of the bedrooms provided as an extra service by Lil. My dancing also, more times than not, would start major brawls as one man fought another for the right to cart me up to those skimpy rooms.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Mine was not the only form of entertainment offered at the Silver Saddle Saloon. Because it has the word "saloon" in its title, it's quite natural for the miners to expect they could drop a nugget of gold onto the bar and be served chest searing whiskey. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Alcohol and money combined to make for drunkeness. Drunkeness and uncouth ruffians led to disagreements over some of the most ridiculous things, but these disagreements sometimes led to everyone in the saloon ripping into each other with their fists, broken bottles, or worse. It was not at all unusual for these fights to lead to gun play, sometimes in the saloon; sometimes out in the streets.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Gold, alcohol, and women...together these elements led to many kinds of crimes. but perhaps the slickest crimes committed inside the Silver Saddle were those committed by card sharks.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">What is a card shark? </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">I wondered that myself the first time I heard some of the other girls working for Lil talking about it.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">A card shark is a professional gambler, and according to Lil, these pros go from settlement to settlement plying their trickery on the unsuspecting who have more money than sense. These professionals know how to "stack the deck"...which is another term I did not understand.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Stacking the deck, Lil says, means the shark knows how to shuffle the card so he is dealt the winning hand each and every time...I know! I find that amazing too!</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">I remember watching a shark once. His name was Cal and he was out of St. Louis, which I was told is in Louisiana.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">I watched him shuffle and could hardly believe my eyes. How he can know what cards are going to turn up when he moves those cards around so fast is beyond me, but he won each and every time until he challenged Old Leroy.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Leroy is a big, old...thirty-five is old...miner, who spends the week up in the hills with his chisel and a crusty old mule named Jack...short for Jack-Ass. Leroy is known all around Deadweed for his mean temper. He's also known for being a sore loser.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">I'll never forget the day Cal challenged Leroy. It was right before the Founding Day Celebration. I remember because the sheriff got Mr. Tibbs and Mr. Whitmore to put red, white and blue paper all over Deadweed, and had Barney build a platform just on the outskirts of town.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Anyway, it was a Friday night. Leroy always showed up on Friday nights, and he'd downed three of Mike's...Mike's the brakeep...Stove Burners. He was working on the fourth when Cal issued his challenge to the burly drunk. Leroy is not one to pass up a dare...just in case you ever run into him in the future.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Both men set themselves up at the round wooden table farthest from the swinging doors. Cal called for a fresh deck that Lil ceremoniously produced. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">I was up on the stage finishing up an energetic routine with Sue, another of Lil's girls, so I didn't see Cal shuffle and deal. I didn't actually see the first three hands, but Leroy was losing and losing big. Everyone was becoming nervous because they could see Leroy was turning that awful purplish-red color he gets just before he explodes.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">My set ended and I bounced off the stage and was latched onto by a young miner sitting two tables away from the Big Game, so again, I was kinda distracted from the real drama unfolding nearby.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Back at the table, Cal shuffled for the fourth hand. Leroy was betting everything he had in his pockets, so he'd get back what he'd lost so far. The shuffle was more blindingly rapid than usual...or at least that's what Molly, another of Lil's gals said aferwards; then came the deal.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Cal dealt the first card to Leroy face up. It was an <em>ace</em>. A smile of wicked satisfaction spread across the otherwise ugly face of the burly miner. Cal's own first card was a <em>four</em>.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">The spectators gathered around the table let out a huge groan of relief. Maybe things would turn out all right after all. <em>No one wanted an exploding Leroy.</em></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">The second card went down face up. For Leroy another ace, for Cal a king. Leroy's confidence restored, he ordered another drink, gulped it, and belched it as the next two cards were dealt face down.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Cal, an actor of great ability, peeked at his cards and remained stony faced. Leroy on the other hand, grinned from ear-to-ear like a man who knows he's got this hand made. Another card was dealt face up. For Leroy a <em>two</em>, for Cal another <em>four.</em></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Leroy was so wrapped up in what was buried in his hands, he didn't notice Cal's four had come from the bottom of the deck, but old Skeeter, a semi-friend and frequent rival of Leroy's did. He knew better, though, than to try convincing Leroy of anything when he had that pair of aces showing.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Leroy pushed all his gold nuggets into the center of the table. Cal matched the bet. Leroy proudly turned over one more two and declared two pair, aces over dueces and was reaching for the pile of gold when Cal reached across the stop him.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">One by one Cal revealed his hand. One king and two fours were already showing. Cal flipped over another card...the third four, and then the final card, <em>the fourth</em> four.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">By now the whole place was aware of the vein popping at the side of Leroy's neck. Those of us who know him, dove for cover. That's when Skeeter yelled out that Cal had dealt to himself from the bottow on the deck.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">That's all it took.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Leroy reached across the table with his ham sized hand, grabbed Cal around the throat, pulled him out of his chair into the air, and squeezed.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">There are those who tried to stop the inevitable. Perhaps if they hadn't most of Lil's patrons would not have gone back to their hovels with gashes from broken bottles or lethal fists.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">I myself, got tossed around and my dress shredded as I tried to crawl to the nearest exit. Mike very wisely, ducked behind the bar and stayed there till the dust settled.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">As for Cal, Leroy squeezed until Cal's eyes bulged, his skin turned a deep, deadly maroon, and his neckbone snapped. (He was buried the next day on the hill outside Deadweed in an unmarked grave, but Leroy went back a couple of days later and placed a wooden plaque that read<em>...He Cheated In Life, Let's See Him Cheat In Death</em>.)</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">All in all, life in Deadweed is unpredicatble and dangerous, but it's the only life I know. I know my parents wanted better, but you roll with the punches, and well, I did survive. Many others did not.</span> </div>Linhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13866209826449646004noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6577632567371809376.post-69809039025138148252011-12-01T07:00:00.000-08:002011-12-01T07:00:08.466-08:00GEMINI RISING...by L.J. Holmes...this is different<span style="font-size: x-large;">I used to write a LOT of poetry...I always thought it was </span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><img alt="" class="rg_hi" data-height="218" data-width="232" height="218" id="rg_hi" sb_id="ms__id2598" 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" style="height: 218px; width: 232px;" width="232" /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">BAD poetry because I loathe pentameter...but in the spirit of my daily challenge I decided to write a poem and let Y'all...(Thank you Gail)...decide.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">So Are we ready?</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></span></div><br />
<div align="center"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><img alt="" class="rg_hi" data-height="194" data-width="259" height="194" id="rg_hi" sb_id="ms__id6382" src="https://encrypted-tbn0.google.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcQEAUzXuae1qm9sXjxDQSAbrf7nauvgNw8gK_f3jWzRkBJx1d5Gww" style="height: 194px; width: 259px;" width="259" /></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Gemini Rising</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size: x-large;">by</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size: x-large;">L.J. Holmes</span></div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Confusion, illusion, seduction, reduction, life in doubt,</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">The yin, the yang; the in and the out,</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Homonyms, synonyms, and antonyms too,</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">All fuel the language of love gone askew.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">What is true, and what is fiction?</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">What is harmony, and what feeds our friction?</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Can it be that life, is really not a fairy tale?</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">And in love, we're all sentenced to fail?</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Have we all gone crazy, grabbing for the brass ring,</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Or do we go crazy, once we've grabbed the damned thing?</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">What are the rules, that govern the heart?</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Are we all doomed, to have our world's fall apart?</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">"Show me," I begged a wise man announce,</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">"A marriage that maintains its passion and bounce."</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">He looked long at me, through lowered eyes,</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">"Would you want to remove all surprise?"</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">"Love's like that mountin," he softly claimed,</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">"Down here it's warm, the landscape is tamed,</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">"But beyond the shrouding upper mist,</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">"Glaciers scream, and ice floes list.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">"Would you wish for one, and not the other,</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">"Are we lone islands, or a network of sister and brother?</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">"Love is no different than all cycles of life.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">"There can be no husband, 'less he has him a wife."</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">With that last syllable, fracturing on an Arctic wind,</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">He turned like a dervish, in a mind twisting spin.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">One minute there, the next he was gone,</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Leaving me to ponder, till the break of new dawn.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Back in my home, my body toasty and warm,</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">I reviewed what he said, seeking a magical charm,</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">That would finally enlighten, my troubled old mind,</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">But love is what it is, neither cruel nor kind.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">And now that you have been so kind as to endure this I give you a TRUE pearl of BAD poetic mastery...ah and Thanx!</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" class="rg_hi" data-height="275" data-width="183" height="275" id="rg_hi" sb_id="ms__id2598" 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" style="height: 275px; width: 183px;" width="183" /></div>Linhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13866209826449646004noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6577632567371809376.post-52548858586505419872011-11-30T07:00:00.000-08:002011-11-30T10:08:22.914-08:00THE RIPPLES OF DECEIT...a short story by L.J. Holmes<div style="text-align: center;"><div align="center"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Okay...here's my challenge to self, between now and my birthday I will create and post a new short story a day. I've done three so far, one for 11/27 , 28 and 29. Let the 4th come on down.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><img alt="Background, ripples, water, backgrounds, computer" class="c" height="220" jquery15205760989980274531="14" pxz:uid="1230a968907-1" src="http://www.desktopwallpaperhd.com/th/3/6631.jpg" width="320" /></span><br />
</div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size: x-large;">THE RIPPLES OF DECEIT</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size: x-large;">by</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"> L.J. Holmes</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">The rage!</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">His shoulders bowed. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">He'd never thought he'd see such hatred in the eyes of his son. How could he ever hope to make things right?</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">He thought back over the events of the past three hours. He hadn't bothered to go home after work. There was nothing unusual about that. How long had it been since his wife had wanted him" Six months, a decade? It was hard to remember.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Betheny didn't want him, not as a man, but oh how she wanted the spoils of his paycheck, and the place his power gave her in society. So many names spewed with her hatred of him from those lips he once thought delicious. When had the deliciousness stopped? </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">The birth of their youngest child...the one thing he wanted above all else...a child of his own seed. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">The other woman! </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Ah God, he'd never expected to have another woman, but she became a vibrant dream come true, and he in need of the quenching elixir of what lived between them could not keep himself from drinking deeply and consistently. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">The other woman...she stepped into a void of love gone bad and took his passion to places he'd quickly grown addicted to.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Every week, like precision clockwork, they'd meet and spirit off to some private little hideaway where he'd lose himself in the flames her love emblazoned in him. He'd never cheated before, but truly thought he'd been smart and cunning. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">No one was ever going to catch him or know this other woman whom he coveted. She became his secret, elemental sorceress; even now with the memory of the rage chipping away at his devastation, the blood in his heart pumped that much harder...just from the thought of her.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">He'd tried to walk away, briefly, shortly after their first baptism within the pulsating burn of their time together. He really <em>did</em> try, but the memory of her lips blazing a path up and down his scalding body had been his undoing, his calling, and yes, his unrelenting need.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Liquid red lips, breasts made for the curve of his hands, the long silken fall of her wheat-gold hair, the fit of his body within the depths of hers were so unspeakably perfect, and so hard to resist. How do you resist your perfect fit?</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Dear God, even now, with the burning fury of his son's hatred glaring back at him, accusing him, and rightly so, the thought of her made his body tighten and his blood begin to brew.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">What was it that made her so special, so vital to him? She certainly was not the most strikingly beautiful woman he'd ever beheld, and although her figure was not repugnant, she was not movie star slender either. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">A smile threatened to tug his lips, his thoughts focusing on her chosen attire. Not in the least fantically fashionable, she often showed up wearing tattered jeans...tattered not from design, but actual wear and tear...and a blouse he thought big enough to hold them both and still have plenty room for an army of others. Yet to him, she was gorgeous.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">In his mind's eye, he saw again the sultry, steamy, hotter than hot seductiveness in the hungry glint she always wore when they were together. In the simplest of words, she made him feel like a sex god. She made him feel wanted, desirable...no...beyond desirable...she made him feel like he was the only lover, the only man, the only partner she'd ever want. Heady stuff...<em>very</em> heady indeed.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Hell, she made him feel like he was the only man alive in the entire universe, and just happened also to be the sexiest man alive. What testosterone infused man could resist such a combination?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Had he not found her...he shuddered against such a thought. Where would his soul be today?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">His marriage, little more than a charade was still one he could ill afford to free himself from.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Why not?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Well, this ill-tempered son that he loved from the core of his being, though not born of his seed, was one. So too, he admitted, his heart swelling with immense pride, was his young son born <em>of</em> the marriage. Both held his heart, nay, his very soul in their grasp.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">But so does she and until tonight, he'd managed to jockey the three of them, perhaps not honorably, but effectively. Having his cake and eating it too?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">His teenaged son, suspecting something long ago, deemed it his duty to play Sam Spade, stalking his unknown prey...his dad...his stealth finally hitting pay dirt on this dark, and turbulent night.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">He didn't understand why his inner spirit had allowed his son to slip through all his eleaborately constructed defenses against getting caught. Shouldn't he have <em>sensed</em> his nearness?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Once they'd spent those delightful hours locked in the flames of their passion, within the motel's conveniently located closeby, they'd come out to drive home, but tonight...tonight his son had lain in wait.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Parked next to her car, his son leapt from the shadows, burning fury searing from his eyes...eyes so like his mother's, the woman they both feared. He supposed he could have blustered and claimed foul, but he'd dishonored them all long enough. He was truly and inexorably caught in the web of his own construct.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">He'd been kissing her good-nght, when the voice of his son, scratchy from emotion and dripping with scorn, spat out a mockingly cold, "Hell-oooh Daaaddd!"</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">She...ah but remembering the look on her face hurt.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">The poor cherished thing, jumped back, her skin void of all color, her eyes wide, her lips swollen from his kiss, now rounded with surprise. Dread spread the length of her and something else looked back at him he would dissect and regret much later. "Dad?" she asked in a voice weak with hurt and bewilderment.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">All this time he'd let her believe he was a traveling semi-conductor salesman in and out of her fair city once or twice a month, but now, t</span><span style="font-size: x-large;">he game, as they say, was truly up.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">He could do nothing now but admit his sins and try to negotiate through the minefield of his son's betrayed confusion and the pain still reaching out to him when she drove away.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Hours later, his emotions in a scramble, he admitted defeat. His son, wanting to strike out from the depths of his rage, was eager to report back to his mother, knowing she would make his father pay.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Stepping into his car, his eyes wacthing the increasing dimness of his son's retreating tailights, his shoulders stooped and bent, he prepared himself for the battlefield; the war he was going home to.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Lowering his head to the steering wheel, his whole body began shaking; all strength fled. He felt so incredibly old.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">His son's words rained down on his depleted spirit. He'd been called every vile thing his son could think of, and more, but beneath the acid tongue, and the stark bitterness, the hurt little boy, the son who'd held his dad up on the pedestal, broke beneath the evidence of his fall from grace.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">If he lived through the confrontation at home, he'd never forget, till his dying day, that look, that fractured look beneath his son's animonsity. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">What was he going to do? In all honesty, he could not claim remorse for the love he'd found with <em>her.</em> But he probably should have ended his marriage long ago. At the very least he should have told her the truth. Why hadn't he?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">It hadn't been fair to her, loving her this much, but hiding her like a criminal in the night, behind the shame of closed doors? He'd been such a selfish coward. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">How often had he caught the faint glimmer of was it hurt...had she suspected...in her eyes, quickly masked as she moved into his waiting arms? He'd always thought it a sign she hated parting from him as much as he'd hated parting from her...but maybe it was more?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">He loved her...loved what she could make him feel. The complexity of their affair had only been compounded by his unspoken fears...fears of losing her, and fears of losing his boys.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Wouldn't that be the ultimate irony, if after the dust settles, he ends up losing them all? He shuddered again. God help him, he felt so cold.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">No good could come from this tragic night, that he could blame on no one but himself. All roads through this mess would lead to broken despair...for all of them.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">His sons will suffer something he'd hoped with all his heart to avoid, but all he could do now is try to be there and pick up the scattered pieces...if they'd let him.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">And there's the rub. How to explain to a seventeen year old who only sees the world in shades of black and white...no mitigating hues of gray? </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">His only hope, as they all moved into the court system, was for physical custody and time...a long shot...of his youngest, and a total, and irrevocable divorce from his venegeful wife.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Maybe in the years ahead, when his son could see the world through the grays of reality, he would learn, if not forgiveness, tolerance of emotions he could not fully understand right now. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Inserting the key, he engaged the engine, stiffened his spine, and thrust the gear shift into drive. It was going to be a long night, a very long night indeed.</span></div></div>Linhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13866209826449646004noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6577632567371809376.post-90260590245880044622011-11-29T16:35:00.000-08:002012-10-20T08:40:13.463-07:00THE MOMENT I KNEW...by L.J.Holmes<span style="font-size: x-large;">From the convoluted </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">mind of me comes another really, REALLY short, short. I hope you enjoy.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">THE MOMENT I KNEW</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">by</span></div>
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<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">L.J. Holmes</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">As I sit here, my heart in a struggle, I can't help but wonder what would you think, if you but knew, that I am angry with you? </span><span style="font-size: x-large;">Not just a flickering ember that escapes from a larger flame. No!</span><span style="font-size: x-large;">This anger is born deep, in the center of my soul. It claws at my vitals with a fury of an enraged beast, and bleeds me in places too many to count.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">Dammit to hell, in the genesis of this anger, I suddenly knew...</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">I'd fallen in love with you.</span></div>
Linhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13866209826449646004noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6577632567371809376.post-35649918733178236522011-11-28T18:58:00.000-08:002012-10-20T08:27:55.741-07:00THE RAVAGES OF TIME....a FREE short story by L.J. Holmes<div align="center">
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">THE RAVAGES OF TIME</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">by L.J.Holmes</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">An angry sea, crashing waves, breakers touch the sky, and there she stands, a lone sentinel, on a distant finger of land, illuminating the way through the moisture-laden fog. She has a purpose, an important purpose to bring the travel weary sailors safely through the night...yet again.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">Upon seeing her flash, the sailor is ecstatic, and sings her praises for all to hear. She is proof that life, especially his, has not come to an end, yet, in the watery morass and dark denizens of the angry sea waiting to snatch the unsuspecting down into its grave of snarling whitecaps.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">Ah, but once the ships have docked and the sailors safely moved from the misty fogs of night, they quickly forget her, the deserted beacon of life, still standing out there, upon that finger of land, to await the needs of the next generation of sailors lost.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">But time does not stand still, even if the lone lighthouse does. With the passage of month, day, year, she begins to fade, oblivion waiting to claim her. How long can a light shine, when it is not replenished, not attended to, not cared for? A goddess of safety so quickly forgotten?</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">Each passing sailor has claimed just a bit of the finite luminescence that nourishes her battered strength, keeping the beacon glowing, and calling out to those disoriented and frightened men of the sea. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">As with all things, there comes a time, when the beacon, that bright beam of loving sanctity, encased in the shell of a landmark, taller than life, cannot spread her light far enough for the next era of lost seafarer to see.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">A beacon, like love itself, needs to be nourished, tended to, or it fades from wretched neglect. Each wailing sailor took from her internal heartbeat as relentlessly as the waves took from her frame.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">After time, there is nothing left but a smoldering wisp, buried deeply beneath the ashes of the ages. A mere glimmer of the beacon she used to be.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">It grows harder and harder, as she stands out there all alone, to transmute the pain of her isolation and neglect into fodder for yet another twinkle of light. The waves crash, the sea grows angry, and mists enshroud the endless blanket of night while she shrinks before them.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">The battles she has conquered have left her spirit in withering tatters. The erosion of the cresting waves of love gone amiss, have diminished the foundation upon which she rests.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">None come forward, sad thing to tell, to save the beacon and shore up her abrading foundation. Where is the love? Where is the commitment? We need not be told what transpires when foundations weaken, but wrathful waves continue their relentless thrashings.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">And all she has ever needed...was love.</span><br />
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Linhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13866209826449646004noreply@blogger.com3