Holy Flying Vodka Bottles!!!

Hey there, how ya’all been?  Good, I hope!  I’m doing better now…now that Murphy has been evicted from our couch!  Okay, I know none of you have any idea what I’m babbling on about, so let me back up and fill you in on what’s happened.  I’m currently on an extended road trip from Arizona to Pennsylvania, and back again by way of the scenic route.  In short, I think we are going to hit about 25 states by the time we are done.  All right, maybe not quite that many…but close!

Anyway, this trip has been a real learning experience for me and the toughest part was learning to drive a 30’ motor home.  Driving 5000 miles isn’t a problem.  Staying away from home for 3 weeks isn’t a problem.  Traveling with a woman I’ve met only once before isn’t a problem.  But getting this stinking house on wheels down the road seems to be a life-altering challenge.  I kept thinking if others could do it, I can.  But I might have been wrong.  LOL

Okay, here’s the deal.  Within the first week on the road, I’d broken 2 pairs of reading glasses and a pair of flip flops.  Then I broke the motor home.  Okay, I’m getting ahead of myself here.  Remember Stupid Girl—my alter-ego that does all the stupid crap…or at least takes the wrap for it?  Well, she’s along on the trip too.  I tried to make her stay at home, but the bitch jumped in the RV and refused to get out…so I had no choice but to take her along.  Who knew she was going to insist on driving?!  And who knew she'd invited Murphy to tag along too.

Well, the second or third night out, we pulled into a gas station in Oklahoma (with Stupid Girl behind the wheel).  We had been either behind or ahead of the tornadoes the entire way through Texas and Oklahoma, so she was a little on edge and still trying to get the hang of missing curbs.  Well, there was this stupid ‘ol curb at the gas station…one of those things that sticks way out in everybody’s way for no logical reason at all and serving no purpose?  Yeah…you got it…Stupid Girl hit the damn thing and the RV momentarily became airborne.  Woo Hoo!  Who knew she’d need a pilot’s license to drive the damn thing?!  We all got out and walked around the RV and looked it over and all was well…only a little curb, nothing damaged, we’re good.  We get gas and we head on down the road.  It was a huge relief to finally get to the RV park without having the RV picked up and blown into Kansas like a flying cow.  So we parked and got out, hooked up the utilities, and then noticed one of the 4 tires on the back was flat as a pancake.  Crap!  Stupid Girl!  So we call the RV rental place and they dispatch a fix-it guy to the RV park.  I’m imagining a long night going from place to place trying to get the tire fixed.  But we lucked out.  We got a smart guy who realized the absence of a hubcap on that wheel meant the valve extender thingies were hanging outside the rim.  So when Stupid Girl hit the curb, she took a little chip out of the rubber valve and all the stinking air leaked out.  Voile…flat!  So our clever fix-it guy just pulled the valve extender off, put air in the tire, and we were good as new.  Yeah for smart fix-it guys!

 (smart fix-it guy)

Now, you might think that was the extent of Stupid Girl’s idiocy…but you would be dead wrong.  She got us to Pennsylvania right on schedule and we picked up our third passenger and set about visiting family.  Now, anyone who has ever driven in Pennsylvania knows the roads this time of year are either crap or under construction.  They are rutted and torn up everywhere.  It’s a mess!  So here comes Stupid Girl still learning to drive a 30’ RV into a town with teeny tiny narrow streets that go up hills and down hills and the straight roads only have 6 curves per half mile.  Holy hell…we need Batman to drive these roads and all we’ve got is Stupid Girl.

So…first couple of days she does good.  She makes every turn, doesn’t hit anything going forward or backward, and life is good.  Then we head to the park for a picnic and this is where Stupid Girl really earns her reputation.  We make it down the incline on a very rutted dirt road into the park just fine.  No problem.  Then it’s time to go home.  Uh-Oh!  Going down the incline wasn’t a problem…crawl and take the bumps very slow.  Going up is a different story because you have to go at least fast enough to maintain upward motion.  So she is doing good until we come to the big hole where the entire RV seems to be swallowed up and spit out like we’d fallen into the belly of a whale.  The motion causes all of the upper cupboard doors in the RV to fly open and the little gremlins that were hiding in the cupboards started throwing everything across the RV.  This is where the flying vodka comes in.  Now…just to be clear…no one had had a drop to drink.  This was a totally teetotaler picnic.  The vodka was just inappropriately stored in an upper cupboard and the little gremlin living in that cupboard had a terrific arm.  Because he hurled the damn vodka bottle across the interior of the RV.  Stupid Girl heard the pans hit the floor and the horrific thud of the vodka bottle.  So she stopped dead on the incline which now looked like Mount Everest!

Everyone else in the RV scrambled to make sure no one had been hit and to retrieve all of the projectiles from the floor and stow them safely in the lower cupboards.  When everything was once again stowed, Stupid Girl was still shaking from the commotion that had scared her half out of her wits.  So when she started to again pull out of the park and onto the teeny tiny little street made for mice pulling garden carts, she didn’t see the curb on the passenger side.  In her defense, she was sitting with the front end pointed in the air and she was shook up from the near-miss with the flying Smirnoff.  So imagine her surprise when she hears the bottom of the RV scrape the curb!  Maybe it only scraped the bottom, huh?  Noooo.  Then someone says, “I think you caught a post.”  Noooo!!!  Okay, let’s stop right where we are and let’s get out and see what happened.

It is not pretty.  We get out and look and there we are…we are off the curb and there are no steps to get into the RV.  Huh?  That’s not right.  What’s all that metal crap hanging down under the RV?  Oh crap…those are the steps?  Maybe we can just straighten them out, but first we gotta get out of the road.  So Stupid Girl jumps back in the RV and pulls it straight across the highway onto a side street where we can better assess the damages.  Then we get out again and this time we notice the odor.  Definitely not good!  Sewage is now spilling from the bottom of the RV onto the street.  I think I actually recognized last night’s dinner as it floated past us on the street.  We stared, dumbfounded, as our black water tank emptied itself on the streets of Wrightsville, Pennsylvania.  Residents of Wrightsville…we are soooo sorry!

Now what?  Let’s open the door and see how badly damaged the steps are.   No…let’s not!  We open the door and there is a 2’x2’ hole in the floor.  Where there used to be steps inside the entry door, there is now a drop to the pavement.  That’s not good.  Oh, and under the steps…that’s where the 2 house batteries are stored.  We are screwed!  We have a 2 foot hole where our steps used to be, the batteries are wedged in sideways about 6 inches off the pavement, sewage is pouring out of our black water tank, and the broken pipe is hanging about 3 inches off the ground.  Holy Crap!

But, Thank God, we are not without resources.  We have a wonderful friend named Debbie who manages to come up with a pair of pliers and some wire.  She fearlessly crawls under the RV and manages to wire the pipe up so we have a good 6 inches of clearance now.  Yeah, what a woman!  We have called every RV repair shop in the county and no one is willing to come out and look at it.  Did I mention this all happened at 4pm on a Friday afternoon?  Well, of course it did…because Stupid Girl was driving!!!

Long story short, we limp back to our camp in the next town over where my friend’s 3 wonderful, amazing, resourceful brothers all show up with blow torches and hazmat suits…okay, maybe a slight exaggeration.  But they did show up with tools and know-how and they took the steps out, found the backup shutoff valve for the black water tank, put a temporary patch over the 2 foot hole in the floor of the RV, and straightened the door out enough that we could open it in case of a real emergency.  Then the next morning we make more phone calls and find a wonderful repair guy in Dover, PA who comes up with an ingenious temporary way to put another fitting on the black water tank so we can use the toilet and dump it at the parks.  Yeah again for smart fix-it guys and good family!!!

          (those were our steps)          

 (that's where the steps used to be)

So how, you ask, are we doing now?  Well, we can’t use the door so we have to enter/exit the RV through the cab by climbing over the seats.  But we can use the toilet.  Yeah!!!  We have to crawl under the RV to dump it and often have to get creative on where/how to park so the drain tube will reach, but we’re getting pretty good at that.  Stupid Girl seems to have finally figured out how to miss the curbs, so life’s been pretty good for a few days.  Now we just have to deal with the rental place when we return the unit.  Of course, we have been good doobies and kept them appraised of the events and progress, but I’m certain they are sitting there holding their breath and expecting Stupid Girl to return their RV as a convertible.  It could happen, ya know.  We have 3 more days to go, so cross your fingers that Stupid Girl is done being…well, STUPID.

That’s my story, stupid and stinky, and I’m stickin’ to it. Hold on tight now ‘cuz we’re gonna go real, real fast.......(and Stupid Girl is driving)!

Love ya,

Kayce

(Thanks to Peg for the pictures...check out some of her pics and quotes on Facebook at "Humans I Meet".)

The End

          The End.

          These are the two most beautiful words in the English language (or any language really) to a writer.       

          There is such anticipation when an author takes the germ of an idea, fleshes it out and begins a new story. There is something magical and exciting about introducing a new character to that blank page and the words are flowing so furiously, we can’t type (or write long hand) fast enough to keep up. I love that! There’s no feeling in the world quite like it (for a writer). The rush to get the words out of one’s head before it’s gone is thrilling and a little scary, too. Can’t tell you how many stories I’ve started simply because I didn’t want to lose an idea or that piece of dialogue or the scene flitting around my head even if I’m in the middle of something else. Truthfully? My characters talk to me and sometimes they talk to me AT THE SAME TIME…it gets kinda loud in my head.

          There is the perseverance of writing the middle of the story, when some of the anticipation has died down (although the magic is still there—always there) and we try so very hard to make it as exciting as the beginning.

          The last third of the book—where everything comes to a conclusion, where all the pieces fall into place—has it own kind of magic. For some of us, the closer we get to the conclusion of the story, the faster we write. Not sure how that happens, but it does and then one gets to write those wonderful words “The End”. That’s a whole other kind of excitement. It signifies an accomplishment—a huge one. It shows that no matter how long it took to write the story, you finished it. For some writers, it can take years. Other writers? Not as long. All those words that were whirling around your brain are now down on paper (or safely saved on your computer, flash drives and/or the cloud).

          I was able to write those fabulous words on my latest work in progress this past weekend and I’m pretty darn happy about it. At the same time, I’m feeling a little lost, too. I’ve been with these characters, living in their story, for a while now….it’s hard to let go….but I’m not really letting go because now the real fun begins….editing!

As always, happy reading!

Marie

Jacqueline Noir Interview and Giveaway!

Alexis: Today we are chatting with Paranormal Erotic author Jacqueline Noir. 

Welcome Jacqueline. What made you chose this title for your debut book?

Jacqueline:  There are a few reasons why I named the book Red. One of the biggest is because of Sadie’s red hair. In my head I pictured her with this long, gorgeous light red hair. The other reason is a spoiler so I can’t disclose the reason. You will just have to read it and see why.

Alexis: Can't wait! What are you working on now?

Jacqueline:  I’m working on Layers of Smoke which is a dark contemporary romance. It has a forbidden, dangerous, and intoxicating vibe. There is a sneak peak at the end of Red.

Alexis: What has been the best piece of advice you ever received for your writing career?

Jacqueline:  Patience. I’m a ball of energy and tend to do things on a fast paced setting. This is a good and bad quality to have. Sometimes I reread what I wrote on a writing binge and can tell where my fingers didn’t match the speed of my mind.

Alexis: Does your pet help with your writing or distract?

Jacqueline:  I have three pups but the biggest baby is my mastiff mix, Ruger. He likes to lay his head on my arm while writing. My husband is constantly having to take him out of my office so I can focus.

Alexis: What do you think everyone should know about your husband?

Jacqueline:  My husband keeps me alive. Literally. Throughout this journey I have found my head in the sand. He makes sure the bills are paid, the house is clean, and that I have a stockpile of coffee at my fingertips.

Alexis: You are one lucky lady! Thank you, Jacqueline, for visiting us here on Happily Ever After Thoughts.

Be sure to enter the Rafflecopter below for a chance to win a $5 Amazon Gift Card.

Red Blurb: 

The first time those haunting gray eyes pinned her, they’d stared at her from the face of a creature that was supposed to only be a legend. A cliché.

 

When Sadie VonRouge moves to Casterton, Oregon to live with her aunt, she expected a sleepy little town; the perfect backdrop for her to start piecing back together her life. She wants nothing more than a normal start to her freshman year of college.

Normal is the last thing she’s going to get.

The night she was attacked, it’d been a wolf that chased her down. A wolf that tackled her to the ground. A wolf that began sniffing her. Then she’d opened her eyes, and she’d come face-to-face with him.

But she was delusional. She knew this. There’d been no man.

At least, that’s what she tells herself over and over, even while fighting back the memory of how sinfully gorgeous the man had been, or how viciously he’d growled out that one word:

Mine.

Sadie doesn’t know what is happening to her, or why she’s beginning to exhibit odd symptoms after the attack. All she knows is that her world has been drastically changed. She has no idea how much, or how serious that man’s claim was. Not until he comes back into her life, demanding the one thing that he owns above anything else.

Her.

Thrust into a new world, Sadie is going to be forced to deal with a reality she never expected.

And a dominating, scary, dangerous male that might just not give her any choice but to accept her new life . . . and the fact that he comes along with it.

“You belong to me. I own you. Forever.”

Buy Links:

Amazon US

Amazon UK   

Barnes & Noble

About Jacqueline:

Jacqueline Noir lives in Phoenix, AZ with her loving husband, three pups, and her 'small human'.

She loves everything paranormal from the movies, television, books, and adventures to haunted places. When she isn't dreaming of werewolves, witches, and all things that go bump in the night, she is busy creating hot and romantic stories that bring to life all these creatures in their most alpha form.

Her stories feature kick-butt female leads, hot dominant alphas and a whole lot of wicked trouble. Her love for books has taken from being an avid reader, to a book blogger and now an author.

Her debut novella, Red, is the first in the paranormal erotic VonRouge series.

Author Links:

https://www.facebook.com/MaEJacquelineNoir

https://www.twitter.com/JacquelineNoir

https://www.pinterest.com/JacquelineNoir/

https://www.tsu.co/jacquelinenoir

https://instagram.com/jacquelinenoir

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Romantic Times a Thrill!

Wow! Just got back from the Romantic Times Convention and what a great time! It's still going on, but I had to return home due to book deadlines. Need to keep writing my books for my readers. That's a priority :-)

Tuesday night was a blast  at the Cover Model party. Had this photo taken with the cover model for my next book COWBOY'S MATCH. Don is a classy guy and very nice. You may recognize him from many of Becky McGraw's books :-) 

I also, got to watch the cover models do some dancing and of course danced a bit myself ;-) It was great hanging out with nine of the twelve Cowboy 12-Pack authors. I couldn't ask for a better group of ladies to have done a box set with, or to have fun with at RT. 

The next morning was a real thrill because Kathryn Falk, owner of Romantic Times magazine, called all us Cowboy 12-Pack authors up on stage so we could announce our next project 12 ALARM COWBOYS! Yes, we have created another 12 book set that features cowboy firefighters. In fact, it is already up for pre-order on Amazon, Barnes & Noble and others! Each book in the box set focuses on a different aspect of the theme and will be a great read :-) This hot set will come out on August 4th. 

My fellow cowgirls are still at RT having a great time, but I had so much fun hanging out with Elle James, Sabrina York, Beth Williamson, Becky McGraw, Donna Michaels, Randi Alexander, Cynthia D'Alba, and Paige Tyler. We missed not having Sable Hunter, Delilah Devlin, and Cora Seton there will us, but don't worry, their books are in the new box set as well.

Oh, I almost forgot. Every one of the novellas in this set is a new story, not to be found anywhere else!  So 12 new hot cowboys coming your way for summer for only 99 cents! How can you beat that?

If you can't wait for the full set, be sure to be on the newsletter lists of each author (to sign up for my monthly update go here). My guess is that some of us (wink wink) will be sending out some sneak previews. Oh yes, and Don would like you to know that he is on the cover of the box set and on 4 of the book covers in the set. It's fun comparing abdominal muscles to figure out which four ;-) Trust me on this, I know.

Becky and Lexi

Always, Lexi
www.lexipostbooks.com 

Kissing the Highlander: A Five Novella Swooning Experience

By Authors Terry Spear, Eliza Knight, Vonda Sinclair, Willa Blair, and Victoria Roberts.

My Dearest Fair Maidens,

Do you need a rogue in your life? A brawny Scot with lust in his eyes, perhaps? There are five in this book! I must admit to my everlasting shame, if I ever found myself transported back in time to meet a muscled Highlander, I’d be as ridiculous as one of those swooning nitwits that novels poke fun at. Sigh! But, thankfully for everyone, I’m in stuck in the 21^st century.  This book is the next best thing.

I originally bought the book because one of my favorite writers, Eliza Knight, has once again wielded her steamy pen and added her novella to the lineup. With five novellas in all, there is a little something for everyone. There are “awww” moments and fan-yourself-off simmering moments. And when they include little nuggets of “pulsing flesh” and “heated loins”, you know you have a winner. Tee Hee.

So, that being said, I’m giving this a three swooning maidens rating out of five. I enjoyed this book, but since the authors vary in style, it’s hard for me to not be a critic and pick my favorites (I preferred three out of five, hence the rating). I won’t tell you which ones; you can decide for yourself. If you’re going to buy, do it now! This gem is available for 99 cents through May 15^th! It’s well worth the money and has great five star reviews even though I’m a curmudgeon. I did, however, give it four stars on Goodreads.

Available at  Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, and iTunes.

Post for next month: My Traitor. Keep a look out! I will be giving away some cute charms.

Fare thee well, Lassies.

Who Thought Up Squished Boobs, Anyway?

Hey folks, I’m back…just like a bad penny.  LOL  Sorry for the absence, but I’ve been busy retiring—which is done now, so I can now blog and write more books.  YEAH!!!  So today’s my turn to blog.  Here goes nuthin’.

Well, for me, Tuesday of last week was the day that women around the world dread 364 days out of each and every year…at least, it’s the day they should dread. Oh hell, that’s not right either. I don’t mean it should be a dreaded day…I just mean they should be doing it every year even though it ain’t fun. Cut to the chase? Okay…Mammogram Day. It was the day I was scheduled for my yearly mammogram—which I haven’t had done in over two years. My very dear friend, Judi Thoman/Brit Blaise, recently passed from breast cancer.  So I vowed to get current on my mammogram in her honor…and I encourage every one of the women out there reading this to do the same. Remember, someone loves you very much…do it for them! And if you are a man, please share this reminder with the women in your life.

Anyway, in honor of Judi/Brit, I decided to resurrect an old mammogram blog that I did a couple of years ago.  It’s a story that all women can relate to and never becomes irrelevant.  So I hope you get a laugh out of it and take this opportunity to schedule yours!

Well, today’s the day…Mammogram Day!  The big M, the dreaded vice, the contemporary equivalent of the rack, a modern day torture device that I have no doubt was invented by a man with a deep-seated hatred for the opposite sex.

Think about it! Only a man who hates women would come up with an idea like that. If a woman had invented it, the damn thing would be cushy and pink and warm. You’d be able to sit down while it gently gave you a massage, ran warm water over your feet, and you’d be able to get espresso or wine (your choice) out of the little compartment on the side.

But no…instead, we’ve got a cold, chrome monster that morphs like a transformer into whatever position can inflict the most pain. You have to stand at an impossible angle with your boob pointed off to the left or right, your feet pointed straight in front of you, your chin in the air, your shoulder limp at your side, and one hand stretched around the back to hold onto a handle the nice man conveniently provided…Thank You, Mr. Inquisitor! And you do all this while the nice lady smiles, gropes your boob, squishes it, moves it left and right, rolls it into a ball, flattens it like pie crust, and then pushes the button that makes another cold plate drop on top of it like a falling elevator. I swear, when she dropped that plate on me, the wrinkles pulled out of my face and my eyebrows touched my nose…sort of the opposite of a face lift.

It’s all you can do to not scream as your boob is squished like a slow-minded squirrel trying to cross the highway. You hold on for dear life and draw blood as you bite down on your tongue, all the while the machine is squeezing your left tit so hard that the blood shoots backward, up into your brain. I don’t think blood’s supposed to run through a vein in both directions…it tends to create a whirlpool effect, making you feel like you’re about to pass out…which is probably the only way they can get you to hang onto that damned machine!

Now, it wouldn’t be bad if they only did this once. I could maybe take that…or even twice I would understand…I do, after all, have two breasts. But NO! They gotta take two or three runs at each side. Gotta get a good shot…a good picture…a clear view. Of what? My armpit? My collarbone? My jowls? Because they are ALL squished in there right along with my poor aching ta-ta. The whole test takes maybe fifteen or twenty minutes…then I spend the next 364 days recovering my dignity, swearing I’ll never do it again, and building up the courage to finally schedule another appointment.

Now, as if that isn’t bad enough…apparently, it’s important to keep track of your nipples during this process. The story goes that you have to know where the nipple is at all times in the picture because it tends to create a shadow that can be misinterpreted. The nice woman with the annoying smile explained that the breast tends to roll and the nipple winds up in awkward positions during the test. Ya think? I can tell ya just exactly how that happens!!! Anyway, she says they must keep track of it—hence, the chilly metal BB they tape directly to the center of each nipple. Thank God, I only have two!

So, now that the test is over and you’ve survived, it’s time to get dressed and the nice woman with that smile that’s starting to piss me off says, “Oh, and honey, don’t forget to remove those BB’s before you put your bra on.”

Crap! I think she stuck ‘em on there with Gorilla Glue…now I have to peel ‘em off. This isn’t going to be pretty! I stand in the dressing room naked from the waist up, staring down and building up the courage to rip off the first one. I remember this part from last year and I briefly wonder if it would really be all that uncomfortable to just wear them until they slough off on their own. But with my luck, I’d forget and end up in jail when I set off the metal detectors my next trip through airport security. There’s a Kodak moment for ya! No, I’ll do it. So I take a deep breath, get a good grip on the edge of the tape, and yank real fast…like mom taught you to do with stuck-on band-aids. YEOW!!! Now I’m panting, trying to get breath into my lungs which have slammed shut from the pain. I just can’t begin to tell you how grateful I am that I don’t have hair on my nipples. Although, if I did, it might be one way to get insurance to pay for a good waxing.

Apparently, there was a problem in the past with those little BB tapes not staying in place…because some jackass has gone and improved the adhesive. And when I find him, I’m going to beat him to death with my purse. Crap! I still have one to go. Okay, long story short, I got the other one off, got my clothes on, and fled that torture chamber like my ass was on fire.

Ya know, I commented to the nice woman as she was grinding my left boob into the cold plate on the machine that if men had to take this test, they probably would quickly invent a more user-friendly contraption.

She chuckled and said, “Well, you know, some men do get breast cancer, so we occasionally have to put their breasts in it too.”

I stared at her like her last brain cell was squeezed into that device right next to my throbbing ta-ta. Men’s breasts? Are you kiddin’ me? Hell no! I had other body parts in mind!!!

That’s my story, impossible and important, and I’m stickin’ to it. Go get yours today…PLEASE!  Hold on tight now ‘cuz we’re gonna go real, real fast!

Love ya,

Kayce

A Walk Down Memory Lane

     My son’s fiancé asked me to send her some pictures. You know the kind—photos of when my son was young, of us as a family, even the dogs we’ve had over the years. So last Saturday night, I sat down and started going through the two big bins I have to try to pick out pictures I thought she would like.

     Oh my gosh—so many pictures. So many memories! A flood of warmth, a few laughs and yes, a few tears, too.

     Birthdays and holidays and weddings shared with family and friends (some of whom are no longer with us, but never far from my thoughts), camping trips and school pictures, candid shots of goofing around, hazy photos of places we’ve been and people we’ve met (I’m a really lousy photographer, but I don’t care).

     Some of my favorites? My son, age two, in his feetie pajamas, grape jelly all over his face; sleeping with our first German Shepherd, Maggie, who didn’t move the whole time he cuddled against her; in his Little League uniform, all smiles beneath his baseball cap; dressed as a pirate (complete with plastic hook) for Halloween; laughing with Goofy and Mickey Mouse at Disneyland when he was six; all bundled up and playing in the snow before we left New Jersey for the warmth of Arizona.
      Other favorites? My husband before he was my husband, sitting on the couch my grandmother had given me for my first apartment, wearing the Andy Capp hat he was fond of (and still has), grinning that grin I fell in love with; then later, on that same couch, holding our son only a few days old, the expression on his face one of pride and happiness.   

     Pictures of the house we bought on the day we moved in (eighteen years later, we’re still here).   

     I even found a photo I hadn’t seen in years—me and my girlfriends, dressed to the nines (hair, makeup, nails polished to match our outfits), ready to embark on an adventure. We were eighteen (so young and my gosh, I was so skinny) and heading to New York City (only thirty-minutes away on the other side of the Holland Tunnel) to see a movie at Radio City Music Hall then dinner at one of my favorite restaurants. We were so full of dreams (mine was writing…still is), so full of the promise of a life ahead.

     By the time I was done, I was grinning like an idiot and feeling so….blessed (it’s the only word I can come up with) and lucky—that I had these photos to remind me of how good life can be. And it is good.

     What are some of your favorite memories?
As always, happy reading (and walking down memory lane).
Marie