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If I Should Die
Peyton Farley has settled into a new life in southwest Montana. Research and fact checking for a local newspaper is a perfectly safe job, or is it? One morning, Peyton awakens and finds a strange man in lace up work boots who is bleeding out on her kitchen floor. As Peyton calls 911 from her bedroom, someone is stealing the body.
Milk Carton People
Milk Carton People is a paranormal thriller about people who suddenly find themselves invisible, able to observe things but unable to participate. Do they go mad? Maybe they find others. It is quite possible that there is no point in being invisible.
Monthly Archives: July 2009
When I last posted about our amazing and smart box turtle I had a new respect for her as a pet and a species. Now, I am almost afraid of her.
People with Osteogenisis Imperfecta are an outspoken lot. It seems although we may not meet our physical milestones on time there is nothing wrong with our early onset ability to boss people around. This is a genetic thing that I seem to have passed on to my son. Continue reading
In Montana, we don’t have year-round flying insects. We have two seasons, Winter and July. Sunburns, forest fires, mosquito bites, grasshoppers and Moths, mark the month of July. Yes, some of these things happen in June, after the last snowfall. … Continue reading
In 1990, the Americans with Disabilities Act, ADA, was signed into law. By 1997, the various Titles of the ADA were supposed to be in place.
One of the overlooked aspects of the law applied to parking spaces. Yes, there were Handicapped Parking Spaces before 1990, but there was no enforcement in place for new buildings.
Once in a while, a group of pedestrians will stop and point, smile and laugh out loud.
Yesterday, I left the gym, and at the first stop light while waiting for the other drivers to turn left on red, a policeman in a marked car was checking me out. Not, me, my car, I’m not that cool. The next intersection the same thing happened, then a third cop drove by me, I was anxious to get home, like home is a sort of base and whatever is going on will end when I open my front door.
I do not break traffic laws or any laws in general, I claim all of my income on my taxes and never turn right on a red light, much to the distain of the guy behind me who wanted a jump on the next light. I don’t murder, blackmail, shoplift, sell my prescription drugs, or aim guns at passers-by and don’t want to be pulled over and have to assert my innocence.
My hat is too full of potential topics. This post looks like those little thought bubble exorcizes or a word association test. I’ll be back in a few days. You are welcome to weigh in on any of the topics I touched on.
No Johny Cash songs or tired out hymns should be played on the tacky sound system at our local mortuary. I want a few chants led by someone of the newer age leanings. A real, traditional, no fluff, wise woman should lead the service.
If anyone begins to admire me I will rise up out of my box and scare the bejeebers out of them. I never meant to inspire people, I just wanted to be like everyone else.
Smells of cheese popcorn and spring rain rise on the mist. Wet boardwalks lead groups of people in a hurry to see as many sites as miles traveled. Bison lumber and slumber and own it, fur scuffing off in brown bug ridden mats, snorting and keeping to themselves. New pine trees grow in clusters around the bottoms of burned out ancestors from the firestorms of 1988. Shell Spring drains and gurgles and hisses in an endless patient cycle. A cycle of filling up and draining from far beneath the crusty raw opal marks time. Another clot of restless travelers tries to see the big picture as Shell hisses and bubbles and mother earth sighs fitfully. Back in the parking lot a new vent opens and pushes the asphalt away. Continue reading