It’s time again for Blogophilia, the fun blog group where Martien gives participants prompts to use in their weekly blog. This week’s prompts are:
Daniel watched the rain roll down the window. Flaws in the glass created misshapen bubbles in the world outside; strange pockets of deformed darkness. Lightning sizzled through heavy clouds and he closed his eyes against the flash.
He opened them again, to turn back to the house. One large room with a fireplace and chunky, rustic furniture. It looked the same as a hundred others in the colonies – except for the pile of corpses.
A man and woman were on the bottom in a puddle of blood, their throats ripped out. On top of them were four children with similar injuries. Their blood was smeared on the hearth, on the rough table and bench, and on Kateesha’s face.
With dark skin and fiery eyes, Kateesha was the most beautiful thing Daniel had ever seen. She wore her ebony hair up, and a black dress left a spill of heavy cleavage peeping out above the tight bodice. She caught Daniel’s scrutiny and smiled, licking blood from her hand like a cat cleaning mouse from its paw.
“It’s cold, but delicious.”
He knew it would be. The air was so thick with the smell that he could almost taste it, but they didn’t have time to indulge. “Whoever did this can’t be far.”
Kateesha moved to him in a swish of skirts, and laid her hand on his shoulder. “And if they are? Of what consequence is it?”
His body tightened at her touch. “We’re supposed to catch them,” he murmured.
“Why? What concern is it of ours if they want to play? Do we not deserve some fun ourselves?”
Daniel closed his eyes and struggled for the power to tell her no. “We have our duty.”
She scoffed and motioned his objection away. “Duty? You mean orders, don’t you? I’ve followed his orders for almost a century, and I tire of it. What does it matter if one rogue, or one hundred, run amuck? So what if they butcher humans and leave them lay? There are many more in Europe, waiting to cross the vast ocean and come to this wild land. Let them come, and die. Besides.” She drew close again and leaned in, so that her words tickled his ear. “It’s raining. Even Malick can’t expect us to ride in the rain.”
Daniel tried to hold onto his resolve; tried to ignore the reaction she caused in him. “The rain will not hurt us.”
“Perhaps not, but it is not as pleasant as feasting here.” The innuendo in her voice hinted at the feast she had in mind; half feeding, half sex, and completely the opposite of what they were supposed to be doing.
Daniel gritted his teeth and forced himself to step away from her. “We must follow our orders.”
Her musical laughter rolled around the room. “I forget that you are new to this life. Two years has it been since I found you in a house much like this?”
Daniel kept his eyes trained on the window, on the rain running down it. He remembered that night in perfect detail, like a painting by one of the Italian masters. The fire had burned low in the hearth, and the men’s blood was still warm in his mouth. They were brothers, and he’d killed them both, ignoring cried for mercy. There was no mercy here; had never been any mercy. He’d been human when he’d come to the new colonies in 1695. Six months later he lay on his death bed, burning up with fever, begging God to spare him, to let him return to England to his wife and his daughters. It wasn’t God who’d answered his prayers, but a demon who gave him tainted blood. Vampiredom cured his sickness, but took away his chance to see his family again. How could he make the voyage? And even if he could, how would be provide for them? Care for them? Monsters did not nurture children, they destroyed them.
And that was what he did. For sixty years he and the demon who’d changed him preyed upon colonists and Indians alike; women, children, young, old, it made no difference. When his master tired of him, he struck out on his own, handing out death and misery to anyone he chose. Until she found him. He’d killed the brothers and was washing in their basin when she walked through the door, her sword drawn, and a smile curving across her full lips.
“Well, well, look at this.” She’d made a show of looking him over, and the gleam in her eyes said she found the view satisfying. “Tis a pity I’ll have to relieve you of such a fine head.”
He’d looked from her gleaming fangs to her dark, dangerous eyes and realized she was the same as he was; a demon of night, left to drink blood and wander the earth for eternity.
Though he hadn’t spoken aloud, still she threw back her head and laughed. “What melodramatic notions you carry, sir. Demons we are not, but something better. Vampire is the word my master uses. And we are not left to do anything, rather gifted to be above the petty mortals. However,” she brandished the sword. “There are laws, however pointless they may seem, and you have broken them. For creatures such as us, there can be only one penalty.”
He’d eyed the blade; noted the way the fire reflected on the keen edge, and decided not to fight. What was the point? He’d long ago lost any reason to live. He had no family, no home. Had she not come upon him, he’d have stolen from the house near sunrise to bury himself in the dirt, safe from the sun’s rays. When evening came he would rise, dirt caked beneath his fingernails, to seek more blood, and perhaps a bath if he could manage it before the process was repeated. How many more days did he want to pass buried with the worms?
She’d wrinkled her nose. “Yes, to remove you from such a life would be a mercy.” She stepped closer, the sword raised, ready to strike. He’d closed his eyes and steeled himself, waiting for pain that didn’t come. Finally, he’d opened his eyes to find her face pressed close to his. When he gasped, she sealed her mouth over his and pushed him back against the wall.
He’d never forgotten that kiss, though the amusement in her eyes afterwards said that it meant nothing to her. That was when she told him about The Guild, and The Laws, and the Executioners who were tasked with enforcing them. She’d flashed her silver medallion, and explained that killing humans, and leaving their corpses lying in a heap, was against the laws.
“It could lead to our discovery,” she’d said. “Anything that could cause the humans to learn the truth about us is forbidden.”
When he’d asked her why, she’d laughed and said, “Because our masters say so. And now, the hour grows late. The sun will be upon us soon, and I have no wish to stay the day in this squalid place. ‘tis a pity you’re not a whisperer. I believe you’d have made a good Executioner.”
She’d raised the sword, but again lowered it without striking. “Perhaps Father could be persuaded to expand the Executioners beyond whisperers and dream stealers. Surely other talents are just as important.” She’d paused to look him over. “Whatever talent it is you possess.”
So they’d gone to The Guild’s headquarters in New York. There, Malick had tested him, and declared that he was a Puppet Master; a vampire who could control others physical actions for varying lengths of time. Daniel had known he had the ability, had even used it on occasion, but hadn’t realized it had a name, any more than he’d realized how organized the vampires were.
Two years later, he was still surprised to discover new intricacies to their laws, and their lives. It was a different existence than he’d lived with his demon master, and sometimes it took all of his self control not to go back to the way he’d been. Self control that Kateesha enjoyed testing.
He looked past her to the pile of bodies; the parents and their children, and then to the rainy window. They needed to leave, to find whoever had done this and stop them before they were discovered. That was what Malick had tasked them with doing. If they failed…
Kateesha scoffed. “If we fail, Father will say to try harder next time. Do you think he cares one way or the other? He sends us on these quests because it is the desire of those in Germany that we keep things quiet but, were it in his hands alone, he would say that we should do as we please. And what I please,” she moved closer to trail a finger over his chest. “What I please is to stay out of the rain and enjoy the blood that has already been spilled.”
Daniel shuddered at her touch. Though her words were pretty, he knew Malick would be displeased with them should they return empty handed. Or at least displeased with him. As Malick’s favorite, Kateesha would receive no chastisement, but Daniel was not so fortunate.
Kateesha leaned closer, her words a whisper, “Join me, Daniel. Do not fear your desires, but know your own darkness and embrace it.”
“It is not my desires I fear, but their consequences; if we fail him I shall dread the events of the future, not in themselves but in their results.”
“There will be no results to fear, nor consequences.” She took his hand and tugged him towards the bleeding bodies. “Come. Give yourself to the darkness, and to me,” She paused to take a fingerful of crimson and smear it across her cleavage. “Then all your fears would be as light as a feather in the breeze.”
Though he knew he should resist, the sight of the blood on her skin, on her lips as she sucked it from her finger, was too much, and he surrendered.
Part 2 is coming next week.
And now for guesses:
Topic: Jessica Brooke Miller
Bonus: Christopher Mitchell & Jonathan Harvey
Picture: Salon Newlove
- roses are not red this time 2. flower for a flower 3. a rose by any other name 4. stop and smell the roses. 5. in the shadows 6. every rose has it’s thorn 7. days of wine and roses 8. of thorns and roses 9. roses fall but the thorns remain 10. rose is a rose is a rose is a rose 11. coming up roses 12. no bed of roses 13. smell like a rose 14. all moonlight and roses 15. under the rose 16. blush is off the rose 17. smelling like roses 18. the rose 19. growing in the dark 20. what lies in the shadows
I mentioned going to the doctor, right? And getting some antibiotics for a pre-ear infection and a steroid for a rash? Well, as the weeks progressed, the rash got worse, the lymph nodes have not gone down, and by Sunday I felt absolutely horrible – could not stay awake, could not stop scratching. Nothing helped.
Turns out the doctor gave me antibiotics that I’m allergic to.
Now, I’d say it’s not her fault if I hadn’t reiterated that I am allergic to Cephalixen as she was trying to run out the door (the pills she prescribed me were Cefdinir, and the similar name bothered me, but she seemed okey dokey with it). I know, I should have trusted my gut and looked that s*** up, but I was stupid and, oh, I don’t know, trusted the doctor who charged me 150$ office visit. I mean, she’s the one with the degree, not me. I expected she’d know that they’re in the same family, and so they’d cause a billion horrible reactions…but, apparently not.
Anyway, I am off them now. She wouldn’t give me any new antibiotics, even though my lymph nodes and ears are still painful and swollen, as she felt I’d taken the others “long enough to fix it” (even though it is NOT fixed and I was only halfway through the course). Unhappy is an understatement at this point. I wonder if I can get into a real doctor in Springfield? Yeah, it’s a six hour drive, but might be worth it for some decent medical care! (I miss Dr. Hahn!!)
Anyway, so that’s where I’ve been, and where I will probably be for awhile. I am still having trouble staying awake, and the Benadryl I’m now on 4 times a day isn’t helping with that (it helps a tiny bit with the itch though, so that’s something). Ugh!!
Hope you’re doing better than me.
Have a better day than I’ve had
P.S. Here’s a picture of a spider.
It’s time again for Blogophilia, the cool blog group where Martien gives participants prompts to use in their blog. We get points for those (and for guessing who suggested them), and though I am not in the number one slot, I’m beating Jonathan, so I’m good with that!
This week’s prompts are:
And now for our story. Cyprus and Sadihra work together in Munich – she’s the German equivalent of an Executioner and he’s a guard, who accompanies Executioners on missions. Did I mention he’s in love with her?
This is the conclusion, by the way, as it ties in from here into the novel Heart of the Raven where you find out how things went in Italy. I was originally going to write it, but since it’s in the books it seemed superfluous to the series.
Sadihra swung out of the vehicle and glanced at Cyprus. “Meet me for a drink,” she murmured, and then marched away as if she’d never spoken.
Lance arched an eyebrow. “Did I just hear what I think I heard?”
Cyprus closed the car up. “That depends what you thought you heard.”
“I thought I heard her invite you for a drink?”
Cyprus shrugged and tried to hide his smile. Perhaps it was working. Perhaps tonight she’d finally give in. It could be the moment that he looked back on later and said “It was the best night of my life.”
Or the worst. She might tell you to go to hell.
Anything was possible.
Never say Never, he told himself.
With a quick nod to Lance, he left the parking garage for the building. He tried not to walk too fast, but by the time he was past the guards’ room he was in the corridor he was moving at a good clip. No matter how many times he tried to quash his rising excitement, it would bubble up again.
Calm down, he told himself. It’s not like we haven’t had dinner together before. For that matter they’d gone to movies before, and done other friendly social activities. That’s how he’d fallen in love with her. He still remembered the moment he realized it. They were in The Garden, a café-style gathering place stuffed with plants. They were seated at a corner table. Sadihra had shone against the backdrop of curly green vines and delicate pink flowers. She’d been laughing at something, her blue eyes shining like sapphires, and it had suddenly hit him like falling tree; I love her. Just like that, he knew he’d do anything to make her eyes shine like that again, to see her smile, to make her laugh.
And that’s when I blew it.
Energized by the realization, he’d blurted it out like a child. Her sparkling eyes went wide. All the joy died, leaving pale shock. A nervous smile returned, but it looked fake. “I love you, too Cyprus. You remind me of Etherin.”
Etherin. Her older brother who’d run away when she was a child.
His smile had turned as fake as hers. They’d finished their glasses of blood, and Sadihra had suddenly remembered some paperwork she needed to do. Cyprus knew it was a lie, but he hadn’t argued, just smiled that false smile and headed back to his room, berating himself the whole way. That morning, as he closed his eyes, he’d promised himself to let the infatuation go, to just stay away from her.
He’d broken that promise by the end of the week.
It was an assignment. He and four other guards accompanied Sadihra and Hethin to Spain’s version of the Sodalitas. More social function than official business, within two days he’d found himself alone with her on a balcony overlooking a grotto. Artificial lights glinted off a small waterfall and shiny stones. He’d stuffed his hands in his pockets and stared at that water as though memorizing it; the way it flowed from small tier to small tier, to finally fall gurgling in a pool floating with lily pads.
It was Sadihra who’d broke the silence. “It’s lovely.”
Not as lovely as you. He shrugged. “It’s relaxing.”
“It is. The stronghold is too medieval to have such things. They prefer heavy gilt and imposing columns, to make themselves seem more terrifying, I suppose.”
“As the self-imposed leaders of all vampires they need to instill terror.”
She turned to him. “Do you really think fear is the best way to rule?”
“It’s the easiest.”
“But doesn’t love garner more loyalty?”
Love. The word left him looking away again, a reminder of their conversation in The Garden. “It’s harder to maintain. You can kill love, but fear…it’s harder to destroy that.”
“I suppose.” He chanced a peek to see her gazing at the grotto. “Can you really kill love, though? True love, I mean, not infatuation. That comes and goes like the wind, but real love…doesn’t that become a part of yourself? To kill it, wouldn’t a part of you need to die?”
He swallowed hard and closed his eyes, wishing the conversation away. “Real love is hard to find.”
“That’s true.” She leaned against the patinated railing. An uncomfortable moment passed, and she finally said, “About the other day…”
“There’s nothing to say.”
“No, there is. Cyprus, we’re friends, aren’t we? Good friends?” He made a noncommittal noise and she went on. “That means…that means we feel a mutual affection. I think…I think you’ve confused that affection for something more.”
His jaw tightened. “I’m not confused, Sadihra. I know how I feel. It doesn’t matter.”
He turned to go, but she caught his shoulder. “It does matter. I do care for you…like, like a brother. To have you fall out of my life, like this…I don’t want that.”
“But you don’t want me,” he snapped, hiding his discomfort behind his anger.
“I love Wolfe.”
What was he supposed to say to that? “Yeah, I know. If you’ll excuse me?”
He’d hurried away before her liquid eyes could pull him back, and swore that he’d avoid her for the rest of the assignment.
Of course that was impossible. They spent three days wrapped in treaty negotiations – negotiations the Sodalitas humored because the Kugsankal, the council that ruled all of vampiredom, had remained mute on the topic. At the conclusion of the third and final day, they were invited to a fancy fete. Cyprus and the other guards had worn their uniforms, but Hethin and Sadihra had gone in formal wear. The royal blue dress set off her eyes and complimented the flush in her creamy cheeks. More than once his eyes had strayed to the curve of her cleavage, and his thoughts had gone to dark blood scented places.
Still, he’d tried to avoid her.
When the gala was its height, she found him hiding in a corner. Strands of hair had fallen from her updo, and her face was creased with annoyance. “Will you accompany me?”
He tried to look everywhere but her. “Accompany you where?”
“Away from here. And from him.” She nodded to a vampire who was already coming towards them. “I’ve told him to get lost a dozen times already.”
Cyprus’ eyes narrowed and his jaw twitched. “Do you want me to kill him?”
“No, no,” she said quickly. “I could do that myself, but I’m pretty sure it would ruin our relationship with the Spaniards.”
“I doubt the Sodalitas is too worried about our relationship. If Spain won’t capitulate we’ll send in an army.”
“True enough, but it’s more hassle than it’s worth for one jack ass.” She grabbed Cyprus’ arm and dragged him towards the exit.
He didn’t argue, didn’t try to stop her, only glared behind her at the vampire shadowing her footsteps. The man drew to a stop, and at Cyprus’ warning snarl finally turned to melt back into the crowd.
Sadihra continued to pull Cyprus out the door and then down the corridor. It wasn’t until they reached a grand staircase that she stopped, still clutching his arm. “I’m sorry. You can go back to the party now. I don’t want to ruin it for you.”
“It’s not very interesting,” he murmured, eyes on the faraway door as if expecting the vampire to still follow.
“I think he got the message. It’s ridiculous that it takes a fellow man to get the point across. A woman’s ‘No,’ should be enough.”
“They assume you don’t mean it, that it’s a tease,” he muttered. “Too many women do that, or have done it. Not that it’s a good excuse. They should take the no, then, if it is a tease, the woman will pursue it herself.”
“It would be easier if women were allowed to do all the pursuing and men were demure. Then no one would be confused.”
“Of course they would. Romance is confusing.” He met her eyes and his chest tightened. The warmth of her fingers seeped through his uniform sleeve. He imagined her hand moving up his arm, trailing over his shoulder, moving down-
He pulled away. He should go back to the boring party, go back to his corner, or better yet find a willing vampiress to distract him. He should, but… “Do you want me to walk you to your room, in case he follows?”
Sadihra bit her lip delicately, and he imagined tasting it. “Yes. Perhaps that’s a good idea. I could handle him if I needed to, but…”
“But war,” he finished.
He’d avoided taking her arm again, but followed her up the stairs. They took plush elevators to their floor, and wound down corridor past potted plants and other vampires, until they reached her door. She stood uncertainly in front of it, nervous hands working against one another. “Well, thank you.”
“Of course. What are friends for?” The final sentence sounded sarcastic. He opened his mouth to soften it, then left it.
She sighed. “Cyprus, I…” She took his hand in hers, enveloping his fingers in her smooth, soft warmth. “You are my friend. There have been times where you and Jilsenna have been the only ones who understand me. I-I don’t want to lose that.” She looked into his face and her gaze softened. Though he wasn’t a mind reader, he felt the pull of her hesitation, that moment standing on a precipice.
The decision flashed across her face a moment before she leaned up and pressed a kiss to his cheek. She pulled away and let go to say only, “Good night,” before she hurried into her room.
He’d stood in the hallway, fingertips brushing where her lips had been. What did that mean? In one breath she said no, and then…
Except she’d never said no. She’d said, “I love Wolfe,” not “I don’t love you.”
He floated back to his room, his mind churning. It was there that he’d thrown himself in the shower, leaned back and closed his eyes, concentrating all of his demon eye ability on Sadihra and himself, as he’d done before. There were some familiar clips, things he knew would likely come to pass because he saw them so often, but then, there was something new. Her naked shoulder, her back, painted by low light and shadows the wrapped around to fill the valley between her naked breasts. Her soft lips opened in a moan, a name.
And he knew. If he just hung on, if he just waited, he would win in the end. “I love Wolfe” only meant so much. So long as she never told him no.
And she still hadn’t.
He pulled back to the present. In his room, he stripped his uniform and changed his clothes. He ripped the unfinished poem from the notebook and scribbled:
I wait only your word, a single yes to fall from lips
As perfect as the petals of a rose, and twice as soft
Sweet angel shine your light into this lonely darkness,
Return to me my freedom, the soul that I have lost.
It wasn’t the best he’d ever written, but it would do. He folded it up and stuck it in his pocket, then checked his reflection in the mirror. Coppery red hair was long around his shoulders, and brown eyes held the hope that this would be the night, the fulfillment of the vision he’d seen so many times.
The night she finally makes up her mind.
He calmed his pounding heart and strode from the room and to the elevators. The Garden had closed two years ago, but a small place with checkered tablecloths and violin music had taken its place. It wasn’t as picturesque, but it was still more intimate than the main restaurant with its large open rooms.
When he reached the doorway to the café he stopped. His hand dove in his pocket to touch the folded offering. The texture of the paper soothed him, and he straightened his shoulders and lifted his chin, marching inside like John Wayne.
He found her seated in the back, looking over a list of additives. She smiled over the menu, but it didn’t seem as warm as usual. Had something happened?
He took his seat, but before he could ask her a waiter appeared. They placed their order, and when they were finally alone he tugged the paper out and held it out. “It’s not finished.”
She looked at it, looked at him, and the dropped her eyes. “Cyprus. I…”
His heart hammered and he closed his eyes, blocking out the now for visions of the future. No. It was still there. Her naked skin, the brush of her breath, the soft call of his name. It would still happen.
Or could still happen. The future was always in flux, as his master had warned him again and again.
He came back to the now to find her looking at him expectantly. When he didn’t respond she made an aggravated noise. “Were you listening to me?” his guilt was on his face and she repeated, “Cyprus, you need to stop this, for your own good.”
“For my good?” he asked, the poem still held out to her.
With a soft sound of irritation she took it, though she didn’t open it. “Yes. People are laughing at you behind your back. Soon it will be to your face. Wolfe-”
“Thinks it’s a joke,” he finished for her. “Let him. Let all of them. I’m not as worried about others’ opinions as you are.”
“I’m not worried about their opinions,” she snapped. “Just…”
“Just their approval. You feel you need it, because deep down you don’t think you’re good enough. But you are.” He caught her hand and she though she gave a half tug it wasn’t a quarter of the resistance she could have offered. Still, he relaxed, giving her a chance to pull away. As he’d hoped, she didn’t.
“You’re perfect just the way you are, Sadihra. You’re strong and beautiful and smart. You don’t need Wolfe’s approval, or Hethin’s approval, or even your sister’s. It’s your life. Live it the way you want.”
She tugged loose to drop her hands in her lap, her gaze following. “What if I don’t know what I want?”
And there it was. That ever widening crack in her thin façade of resistance. He lowered his voice and leaned closer, elbows on the checkered tablecloth. “Then take your time and decide.”
He watched her, trying to penetrate through her skull to her swirling thoughts. What he wouldn’t give to be a mind reader right then, to know what she was thinking, feeling.
No. Better to be a demon eye, to know the surety of the future. To know that she would be his. Without that, he’d have never pursued her, never tried.
She gave a shaking breath and looked up. “There’s talk of something in Italy; something bad. They may have to send Executioners. Wolfe’s requested we go.”
“You and him?”
She nodded. “I have a bad feeling about it, Cyprus. If you could…If you could see if you sense anything?”
He closed his eyes and let the café slip away, picturing her face, Italy, an assignment. He saw her and her sister. Saw dark shadows, smelled deep earth, and then she lay naked on the floor, her body painted in shadows, her hand reaching for him.
It would happen in Italy.
“It looks fine,” he said, suppressing his raging thoughts. “I don’t see anything bad. Everything will be fine.”
She nodded, biting her lip uncertainly, but Cyprus barely noticed. His mind was already churning, making plans; plans that hinged on one place, one event.
I just have to make sure I go to Italy. Even if I have to bribe someone.
Which incidentally he DOES bribe someone. Oh, and Wolfe doesn’t go. Just saying.
And now for guesses:
Bonus: Stormy & Diana
- Love. 2. two hearts. 3. intertwined. 4. in the sky. 5. what do you see? 6. it’s written in the clouds. 7. summer love 8. it’s all blue skies. 9. romance 10. together. 11. strong against the storm. 12. entangled 13. two hearts as one 14. cloudy relationship 15. together despite the clouds 16. on the breeze. 17. breezy love 18. soon to be blown apart 19. drifting 20. fleeting love.
Today I am thankful for being able to get into the clinic. By the time I went to bed last night the nodes all around my ears were swollen, and also like a crown around my head, so I decided the clinic was in order today. Called at one, got in at two, quite a cry from southern MO when it took weeks… BUT unlike southern MO it’s not a doctor, but a nurse practitioner, and it’s a limited small town clinic, not a real doctor office. Like they’d have probably never caught that I have Sjogrens, they can’t do any kind of x-rays etc. But for rashes and colds and flu it’s wonderful. Which is what I have this time. Apparently.
That weird rash that was on my arm last night? Well, it’s spread. It’s now on my face and neck, and apparently it is all over my scalp, which may be why it is itchy.
*sigh* Anyway, so I got in today.
I didn’t have to wait very long. Maybe six minutes. Anyway, they think the swollen glands and fever are a response to that. She said I must have a good immune system. It’s like, yeah, it’s so good it attacks me all the time! (autoimmune and all). Ha ha! But I’m now on prescriptions.
I felt pretty bleh today, so though I started packing up stuff to mail I didn’t get it done. I didn’t get much done, really. I did get attacked by the cat:
Ha ha! Not really. I mean, it was the cat, but she was just trying to climb up my leg, not attacking me. My upper legs are covered in scratches from her doing that. But it’s not a big deal. It doesn’t even hurt. I didn’t even know it had bled until hubby came home and was concerned. (What a good hubby).
There’s something else I am grateful for. Hubby, I mean. I know how lucky I am to have a husband who genuinely loves me and worries about me and spoils me, though he doesn’t think I appreciate that, I do. And it doesn’t mean we both didn’t put in our time, because we did. There were a few times when things were so…tumultuous that I thought we might divorce (okay several) but luckily we’re both stubborn and realized that you have to stick it out to get to this point. Especially as argumentative, pig headed, bossy, and, well, stubborn as we both are. And it doesn’t mean we don’t argue or snip and snap still, because we do, but there’s no one I’d rather argue with 😉
(Now we’ll see if he really reads my blogs.)
Not much else. We drove past Glenwood yesterday, or near Glenwood, where the tornado hit Friday.
The RV park was even worse, but I couldn’t get decent shots of it without turning around, and we were running late for WWE, ha ha!
I have pics I could post but, eh. Later.
Have a non-itchy day,
Today I was thankful for the heating bags from my aunt and Juli, one on each side of my head helped a lot! (More later on that.)
Since Pokemon had the equinox event going this weekend, hubby and I went to Omaha and pokemoned for a little over an hour, then made a Walmart stop (where I continued to pokemon, ha ha!)
We also watched Money in the Bank tonight, but my head hurts too much to review it. I have a hard, pea sized lump behind my left ear, and the glands along the bottom of my neck are swollen and hurt. I noticed the lump and swelling last night (it didn’t hurt much then, but hurts now). Also my scalp is itchy (kinda weird). Hubby said to give it a couple days then go to the doctor (or I should say Nurse Practitioner because we don’t actually get doctors around here – I even went to ER in Red Oak once and could not get a real doctor…). I guess it will be a chance to meet the new one. I did google the symptoms and am happy to say that it doesn’t fit lymphoma (no night sweats, unexplained weight loss, loss of appetite, or painless lumps – this friggin’ hurts!- I worry because cancer runs in my family – my uncle had lymphoma in fact – and with Sjogrens my chances are increased), but it does fit an embedded tick, an infected bug bite, or an infected gland. So, we’ll see how it goes.
Not much else to say that I can think of, so gonna end this with some old photos I finally got edited. These are from the Dunnigan Park in Bolivar, from March of 2012.
And now I’m going back to editing the photos of Fort Madison because my head hurts too much to do anything else.
Have an Equinox extra pokemon event kinda day!
I promised to come back but didn’t. Isn’t that just like me?
Anyway, yesterday I was thankful for the success of the takeover in Once Upon a Page. I admit, it wasn’t as busy as some of my others have been (I had about 17 participants, not counting my fellow authors who were also hosting), but I appreciate that people came and hung out with us and played games and what not. I always worry that there will be zero, so 17 is waaaaaay better than that.
Thought I’d share a few of the takeover graphics with you and then I am gonna go do some photo editing I think.
Have a takeover kinda day!
And for your enjoyment, here are the last of the rose garden photos from Lauritzen Gardens!
I’m still really happy with how these came out. Those overlays really made a difference from bad lighting to magical sunset sparkle, LOL!
Okay, probably be back later for my daily thankfulness post.
Util then/if not have a sunset roses kinda day!