Cassie's First Halloween

Happy Halloween! I hope you enjoy this Cassie story of their very first Halloween together! Hope everyone gets lots of candy tonight.

First Halloween

The river is so beautiful this time of year. What could be better than October?  It’s a beautiful month that builds up to Halloween. It’s been such fun since we moved to the river. The adults dress up to give out the candy. It’s like one long neighborhood party that ends with a bonfire on the riverbank.

As Tom and I discussed our costumes for this year, I casually remarked, “It’s a shame I can’t quite get into the costume I wore the first Halloween we were together.” I laughed as I saw the peeved look come over Tom’s face. Gracious, that was more than forty years ago. The man needs to learn to let things go.

I know people nowadays see us as a sweet old couple. And I suppose we are, but when we first met, I would have been called a wild-child. I lived a lifestyle that would have no doubt killed me young. Tom was my hero. He rode in and rescued me from my wild and dangerous ways and made me feel safe enough for the lady in me to come out. That doesn’t mean it was smooth sailing from the beginning.

That first Halloween we had been married just over a month. We were in the process of moving to a new house and had joined a club in town. That year the club was hosting a big Halloween Ball. Sue, my best friend, and I had been looking forward to going. Tom planned on going as ‘The Phantom.’ His only concession for his

costume was to wear an old style tux with his half mask. My dress was a gorgeous period piece, Victorian and elegant. I felt like a queen. Sue and Steve were going as Martha and George and while the Washingtons looked quite elegant, I secretly like our outfits much better.

Then out of the blue, Tom breezes in on October twenty-ninth with devastating news. “Girl, I’m sorry as can be, but Steve and I have to go to Washington for a few days.”

“What? When?” I stammered.

“We have to catch a plane in about two hours.”

Oh, I was hot and I let him have it. I knew he had to travel for work sometimes, but this was the first time since our marriage and I felt angry and abandoned.

“Tom, what about the ball? Will you be back in time? Surely, you’re not going to miss that.”

“It can’t be helped, honey. We’ll be there until November second. But I promise I’ll make it up to you when I get back. We’ll go somewhere just the two of us for a long weekend. You and Sue can go to the ball together. You’ll still be the two prettiest girls there.”

“Sure,” I snapped pulling away from him. “Maybe I should go as George. I don’t know why your damn job should be more important than plans we’ve already made.”

“Enough,” Tom told me seriously. “Another word and you’ll have trouble sitting while I’m gone. I am sorry about the ball, but there’s nothing I can do.” Relenting a little as he saw my woebegone face, he added, “I love you, girl. I don’t want to fight with you. Please try to understand.”

I tried, but I wasn’t doing a very good job. 

“I have to go,” he told me. “Don’t fall into a temper and get yourself in trouble. Just behave and I’ll be back before you know it.” And with another kiss and a hug he was gone.

As he’d been packing I’d only been angry about the ball. As the silence of the house closed around me, so did the intense loneliness and that began to fuel my anger. I didn’t know how to process sadness or loneliness back then, but anger was an old friend.

The phone jangled and I rushed to answer it. “Were you fed the same sorry bullshit I just got?” Sue demanded.

“I sure as hell was.” I answered. “I’m so pissed about the ball.”

“You’re pissed – try going as half a Washington!” she yelled.

“Wait a minute,” I told her, as a sudden thought came into my head. “You don’t have to be Martha if you don’t want to be. We can dress anyway we want to now.”

Sue was quiet for a moment as what I was saying sank in. Then I could hear the grin in her voice. “I like the way you think,” she told me.

“I’ll pick you up in fifteen minutes.” I laughed. “We have some shopping to do.”

~o~

As the night of the ball rolled around I was absolutely gleeful. I wasn’t far past my ‘I’ll do anything I damn well please’ phase of my life and I was feeling that way again. Sue had come over to dress at my house and we were almost ready. 

My outfit was perfect. I had purchased a beautiful red wig that fell in a mass of curls down my back. The white halter top tied right under my breasts. The tightness of the little shirt gave me the cleavage I was well known for back in the day. The thin material allowed the dusty rose of my nipples to show clearly. I didn’t mind a bit.

My midriff was darkly tanned from the hours I’d spend in the sun. My shiny leather mini skirt began below my navel and ended at a length barely covering enough to be legal. This wasn’t many years after the networks had had a fit when Barbara Eden wanted to show her belly button on I Dream of Jennie, but I didn’t have the network to censure me and Tom was evidently too busy working to care what I wore. Fishnet stockings and high platform heels completed my outfit. Sue looked stunning as a blonde in an equally inappropriate whores’r us outfit of her own. We were ready for a night of partying. 

We each had an elaborately decorated eye mask and I’d outlined my mouth so differently that Sue swore I was unrecognizable. I know she was. While I wanted to go and have a good time, I did not want the new look getting back to Tom. We may not have been married long, but I knew enough to know he’d have a stroke if he knew I’d gone out in public dressed basically as a ‘working girl’.

Oh my, we were the hit of the ball! We only had to present the token – which had arrived in the invitation, so no one would know the identity of each guest. The crowd actually parted as Sue and I came in. I admit to being an attention whore and I loved every bit of the stares and whispers.

I had a drink in my hand all night and neither of us lacked for dancing partners, although I could almost feel the hateful stares coming from nearly every woman there. I was truly in my element when I looked across the room in time to catch Tom’s entrance. He wore the vintage tux, but not his mask. I panicked as he scanned the room. I couldn’t move. I was suddenly terrified of calling attention to myself. 

Tom didn’t spot me on his first scan and I carefully began edging toward the back entrance. I had to make it to our car and have the driver get me the hell out of there. I was in the hall and nearly to the exit when I heard Tom behind me.

“Cassie?”

“Moi, no.” I said in a low husky voice.

“Oui, vous,” Tom snapped.

“Tom, honey, it was a joke. That’s all.” Tom could have been deaf for all he was listening to me.

Taking my wrist, rather than my hand, he led me quickly out the door and across the lawn toward his car. He moved so quickly I could barely keep up. “Tom slow down,” I begged. These shoes . . .”

Without saying a word Tom stopped, quickly knelt and removed my shoes. In one angry gesture he threw them into the club’s pond,  as it shimmered in the moonlight. 

I was silent on the trip home. We’d been married such a short time, I actually expected a screaming match once we arrived and while I wasn’t looking forward to it, I had no doubt I could hold my own. It hadn’t truly sunk into my brain that Tom was not one to yell at his wife. He was a man of action.

Leading me straight to the bedroom, Tom quickly removed my mask and wig, tossing them onto a chair. Then with lightning speed he had my blouse, mini-skirt, garter with the fishnet and my panties off. This was my first experience of being nude while he was still wearing a tux and I’d never felt so vulnerable.

Tom sat on the bed and was in the process of pulling me across his lap before it dawned on my incredibly slow brain that I was about to be spanked. 

“NO! Wai . . .” I started, as I tried to fight my way off his lap. I never had a chance. Tom hadn’t begun using the ivory brush yet, but that mattered little. As his hand made contact with my bare rear, I yelled bloody murder. I hated being spanked back then. The pain, the loss of control – I fought with everything I had, including my vocabulary. I have to tell you, back then I could cuss more fluently than I could speak the King’s English. I cussed the man for everything I was worth.

Tom’s hand has always been hard as a board when he spanks. He wasn’t moving around much as he proceeded to nearly blister the crease between bottom and leg. My fighting, yelling and cussing were wearing me out – Tom did not seem to be tiring. 

As I quieted for a minute, trying to get my breath, Tom said calmly, “As soon as you’ve finished cussing, this spanking can begin.”

“Tom, dammit! Stop . . .”

“I’m guessing I can outlast you, girl,” he told me firmly. “I’d stop now if I were you.”

He was right. With supreme effort, I choked back what I wanted to say. As I tried to stay quiet Tom began to talk. Unfortunately, talking didn’t slow Tom’s hand one bit. “You had a beautiful dress to wear tonight. Thinking of you in it made me fly back just to take you to the ball, but instead you go out of your way to be seen in the worst possible way.

“When are you going to understand you are a lady? I expect you to always speak and present yourself as a lady so you’ll always be treated as one.”

I was hearing a little of this, very little, and it was probably years down the road before I truly understood what Tom was trying to say to me. Tom was slowing his spanks, yet each was still firmly delivered and I alternated howling and begging him to stop.

When he finally did, I was a mess. Tom stood me up and held me against him. “It’s all right, girl. You’re going to be all right.” After a moment he helped me onto the bed and he the stepped into the bathroom, returning with a cool cloth for my face and lotion for my bottom. After applying it gently, he lay beside me holding me. 

“This is hard for you isn’t it, girl?”

I nodded.

“You knew I wouldn’t want my wife wearing such an outfit in public didn’t you?”

Again, I nodded.

“Cassie girl, don’t fight me. Trust me, let me take care of you and protect you. I want to give you the most amazing life – you just need to trust me.”

I’m still amazed by how true his words were, then and now. And he has indeed, given me a most amazing life.

I miss Cassie

As the title says, I miss Cassie. I’m lonely for her. Most of you reading here know I have an ‘unusual’ relationship with Cassie. She is my oldest friend. In fact we’ve been near constant companions for over fifty years now. I think the greatest joy in my life, after Nick and the kids, is having been able to share Cassie with all of you. 

I've written ten Cassie books. I’m not sure Blushing Books will

want to publish any more. The last book, Cassie’s Life, I felt was the very best. (Although they are all stand-alone books you’d enjoy this last one more if you read a couple of the others.) But even though it’s good, it didn’t sell well. Maybe people were tired of Cassie or maybe they came across this one first and avoided it thinking they didn’t want to jump into a series that late in the game.

I’m moving on with new book so I haven’t spent as much time lately ‘visiting’ with Cassie. Occasionally, I’ll seen her at night. I’m a great sleeper and rarely have trouble but if I do find myself tossing and turning I’ll often head to the river. Cassie and sometimes some of the other are on the porch. Cassie always saves me the rocker beside her and I join her to watch her river flow by. Sometimes if I am upset about something she reaches out and puts her hand over mine and I can feel the tension leave me as I relax fully. I’ve often said a shrink would have a field day with Cassie and me.

But yesterday I had a Cassie flash. Just a scene, like a snapshot. Everyone was gathered at Cassie, the women on the right side of the deck, the men had drifted to the other end or out in the yard. I noticed particularly how Cassie was dressed. It was a casual affair. She had on tennis shoes, jeans and a crisply ironed button up shirt in a black and white check pattern. Her sleeves were turned up mid-way her forearms and I noticed that with this casual outfit she was also wearing a dazzling diamond bracelet. Lily had been speaking and it must have been funny because Cassie threw back her head in laughter. It seemed so typically Cassie – enjoying every minute of life. 

So what do I do about missing Cassie. I have stories I haven’t included in the books, although avid long time readers may have come across some of them on her blog in years past. I really doubt many of those folks are still around. If I’m not going to do another book I could let Cassie begin posting again. I don’t know how many readers that would draw. Cassie still has stories she wants to tell and since I’m not exactly in the writing business for the money it doesn’t really matter where they are published. Should I decided to do this just know – if you comment over at Cassie’s, it will be Cassie who answers your comments. She’s a hard woman to keep quiet.

I think I’ll do my ‘Throw Back Thursday’ on Wednesday this week. I’ll post Cassie’s Halloween story. Maybe that will ease my loneliness a bit.

And I'm never above a little self promotion - you can find all my books here. The first in the series is Cassie's Space.

The Grand Canyon deserves its name

I’m so glad so many of you came by for the wonderful Fantasy Friday last week. It was written by Harry the husband of the lovely Rosie Jones. If you haven’t read it you need to go back here and check it out.

There are still pictures I want to share so there will be at least one more after this post. I’m still loving being back home. The weather is finally turning crisp and we’re beginning to see some color in the leaves. It’s not unusual for all the leaves to have turned and fallen by the end of October, here 90% are still green. But it’s coming and I like being able to turn my fire on in my writing room for short periods.

Today’s picture are of the Grand Canyon. It is magnificent and I had a hard time whittling my pictures down to a manageable number to post. They take you from our first sight of it one day on until sundown the next night. If you’ve never been I suggest it. It’s truly beautiful.

 

   

There were many idiot around - 

but I didn't let Nick lure me to this spot!

I was especially pleased with these next two pictures. Nick is the photographer and has the better camera, but I thought my phone did well!

Fantasy Friday - Sunlight Sunday

Most of my readers know I do love getting a new Fantasy Friday story and I feel this was is truly special. Or rare occasions I get a story from a reader that I don't know and that's always exciting. Most of the Fantasy Friday's are written by people I've blogged with for a while.

This story comes from a little of both. Rosie Jones and I are friends and I've had the privilege of actually meeting her - a truly lovely woman. But she didn't write this story, her husband, Harry, did! I think this is one of the most romantic things a DD husband can do and the fact that he let her share the story with us ranks him high on my list! 

Please enjoy...

Sunlight Sunday

The house was old, built in the mid 30s the way houses were meant to be built. It had the benevolent air of a property built for raising families, with high ceilings, three bedrooms all generously proportioned, and deep sliding sash windows. Thirty-four years ago, when looking for a new home closer to his work, they had fallen in love with it and finally, after a year had won it. They had changed the name of their house when they moved in, no numbers in this hamlet in the shires. They’d raised their two daughters in this home, which stood with a line of mature trees on the east side of the quarter acre plot. It was their family home, they loved it, and they believed it loved them back.

Harry wasn’t really sure at what point he’d passed from dreaming to realising that he was awake. He had been sleepily watching the pictures of his dreams on the back of his eyelids and slowly recognised the pastel flickering of sunlight for what it was. The sun shone through his bedroom windows early in these summer months; the leaves on the mature trees in the garden outside dappled the sunlight like reflections of light from a swift moving stream. He was watching the shadows between the rays of light when one shadow, larger than the rest, grew in the middle of the picture. The pressure on his nose announced the arrival of a long, slender, beautifully manicured and dark-red varnished finger pressing on his nose.

As his mouth widened into an easy smile, something he couldn’t have prevented even if he’d tried, he slowly opened his eyes to squint at the guilty digit. It was as he thought except that his squint had sent him cross-eyed and there were now two of them…

Rosie was curled up beside him with her head snuggled into the crook of his neck, their favourite position together. Her left arm was laid between them and her right arm – the guilty one – was resting on his chest with the hand and finger extended. She gave a nervous little girl giggle when his eyes opened, which quickly escalated into unrepentant laughter at his cross-eyed squint. He could feel her warmth and her breath on the side of his neck, as she lay there enjoying her success at surprising him, and thought he was in heaven.  Then she gave two presses on his nose and whispered, “Beep, beep,” in his ear. 

The house listened quietly to their combined laughter.

This, he knew, was Rosie’s way of suggesting that it was time for breakfast.  She was not what you might call a morning person, well, not unless morning started about 10.30 that is. But she did love the summer, and coffee and pain au chocolat were on her mind with this show of minor physical violence. He rose from the bed still naked and stood in front of the large windows on his side of the bed.  Rosie tut-tutted, “One day there’ll be someone outside and they’ll have a heart attack,” she said. “If they don’t have one,” he replied, “I’ll chase them off the property with a shotgun – that ought to do the trick!”  They laughed again and the house smiled even though it had heard that one before.

Downstairs he slid easily into breakfast making mode. He’d laid the tray the night before, including taking the pastries from the freezer. They were in the habit of doing regular booze runs to France and took the opportunity to stock up with fresh croissants, pain-au-chocolat, pain-au-raisin and tarte-aux-pommes - no one makes them like the French. The thawed pastries went into the microwave for a gentle warming and the kettle was urged into action. With the orange juice poured, coffee steaming and the aroma from the pains-au-chocolat wafting under his nose he returned to their bedroom.

Sundays in general followed this well-trodden path except for the unexpected assault on his person today! It was the only morning in the week that the alarm didn’t go bonkers at 5.45am, wrenching them from their sleep and thrusting them into the working day.  As such they embraced the morning with enthusiasm and did nothing for a couple of hours except read or watch the news.  Champagne usually appeared around 10.00.

Rosie was following her group of friends on Facebook and Instagram with her iPad, uttering the occasional exclamation of support or sharp intake of breath as she followed everyone’s progress and posted her comments. Immersed in her online world she had lost track of time. With a start she realised that she needed to get the Sunday dinner going as her mother was coming today.  Scrambling from the bed Rosie unwittingly upset the tray sending hot coffee over his hand, and although not particularly hot he made out as though he had been scalded (Rosie’s words – not his). Now in something of a rush and panic Rosie told him not to be a baby and dashed off to the bathroom to get showered.

Rosie used a body lotion after showering that had a delightful fragrance that he only got to savour on Sundays, as on a working day he was usually in his car well before she took a shower. The lotion also had the other, much appreciated, bonus of leaving a very appealing sheen on Rosie’s skin, particularly across the rise of her bottom and over her naked mons Venus. This often led to some horizontal aerobics before she was allowed to dress and he had been looking forward to that possibility today.  Taken aback by the sudden whirlwind that had erupted beside him in bed and the surprise of the hot coffee, sans sympathy - the second assault on him that day following the beep, beep, incident - he sat and plotted his revenge.

Gathering some implements and secreting them under the pillows, he sat in the middle of the bed with his back to the headboard and, taking up the long firm daytime bolster, placed it with a leg either side. Pillows followed on top of the bolster to make a firm ridge down the centre of the bed over which a lady might, on reconsideration, realise that she had not treated him with the respect his position as the male of the species demanded.

With her head down, still towelling her hair dry, Rosie came back into the bedroom and completely missed the evil grin he’d positioned on his face and his proud construction. He caught her hand and turned her body to the bed, pulling her forward so that she fell onto the bed and toppled straight onto the ridge of pillows. She knew instantly that she was in trouble; he had one hand positioned over her legs preventing her from wriggling forward and off, and the other in the small of her back preventing her from rising. The combined scent from the lotion and that unmistakable fragrance of mild panic took him by surprise as well. It was intoxicating to him, he was the master, he was omnipotent! His chest puffed out as he raised his hand.

The smack from his hand on her right buttock, although anticipated, was a real shock to Rosie. It hurt and that told her that he had meant it to.  The hard smack, coming at the start of a spanking told her there was to be no warm up.   At least not having mascara on yet was a good thing,no tell-tale smudges round her eyes or on the bedding. She was expecting, and braced for, the second smack almost straight away but he was wondering to himself why he always started on her right cheek followed by the left. This delayed the second smack for a moment and in that moment he decided it meant nothing and started again on the right cheek with another powerful landing. This completely wrong-footed Rosie’s expectation and she let out a yelp of surprise and pain. Her legs kicked up in response so he also took the opportunity to give the back of her calves a quick flick with his hand to tell her that lifting her legs was not allowed.

A few fast and furious contacts followed, with his hand almost sliding on the lotion residue. The noise his hand made was immensely satisfying and he began debating with himself which paddle would make the best soundtrack – only one way to find out! Rosie had stopped struggling, dinner could wait, he was obviously on a mission and although this could be very uncomfortable she wouldn’t have wanted to be anywhere else right now (note to self, she thought, don’t tell him that). Her bottom was already tingling and even this early she could feel the heat building up on both sides and particularly front and centre.  She couldn’t remember if she heard the noise of the leather paddle as it struck, or if she had felt the power on her left buttock first – he’d wrong-footed her again, he always starts on the right.  A sharp, deep, intake of breath prevented her from complaining about either, not that it would have done any good to complain, as he seemed to be getting into his stride at the moment.  After a few more ministrations the leather paddle was put aside and his hand was currently meting out the punishment, stopping regularly for a moment or two. Both his hands caressed her cheeks and she felt his lips and his tongue wandering down between the hills forming the start of the valley of her buttocks. Rosie knew that he was in love with her bum and he often complimented her, saying that it was as firm and well shaped as it was when he first dated her - she was a schoolgirl at the time, almost fifty years ago.  This time-out to caress her was an intimate part of their play and would get them both aroused. If he kept this up with the spanking, she thought, she’d have to jump his bones.

No one knew what the house thought of all this muckiness, although it made a lot of its own sounds at night so who was it to judge?

With the sound track experiment proving inconclusive and all of the thoughts and sensations competing for attention in her head, the unheralded arrival of the jam spoon on her left cheek caused a squeal of disapproval to escape from Rosie’s lips. He stopped immediately.  “Did you hear that?” he asked.  “Was that the sound of surrender do you think?  Damn, I wish I’d recorded it!”  Rosie kept her silence – she wouldn’t give in, ever.  The jam spoon visited her right cheek and proceeded on a World Tour of her derrière that had the tears welling up behind her eyelids, but none touched her cheeks, she was made of sterner stuff.

The spanking continued apace with measured visits from his hands, which were her favourites. She believed there was something far more intimate from the feel of your lover’s hand on your bum than the harder pressure of an inanimate paddle. She could almost feel the caressing motion as his hand left the contact with her skin to rise for another smack. He was smacking low level now – his hand moving upwards from the direction of her legs and kissing her cheeks firmly, drawing her buttocks towards her upper body and arousing her sex with the movement of one cheek against the other. 

Seeing her arousal, and feeling his own with the sight of her bottom right in front of him and the one eyed monster continuously trying to get in the way, he slowed and smoothed the regulation of his smacking to a more gentle and soothing action.  He could feel that she was moist and thought that if he let her up straight away he might not have time to move the pillows and bolster aside before she got to him. 

Then, like the klaxon alarm of a diving submarine, the dedicated ringtone they had assigned to Rosie’s mother hammered out its warning. Rosie’s Mum was a lovely lady but it was now 30 minutes past the time when they had told her he would collect her from home, “Is everything all right, what time will you be here?” The blood drained from somewhere south of his navel and the remaining lotion evaporated from her derrière with the heat.

This wasn’t over yet, the house thought...

~o~

Oh, I do hope the house is right and that there is more. A very big thanks to both Harry and Rosie (as the inspiration) for this story. Please write for us again.

If ANYONE else would like to write for us we would love it! Please send your stories to elisspeaks@yahoo.com

More Trippin'

I’m still relishing being back home and going through my pictures. I hate to put up too many but there are so many to choose from. For those of you coming by for spanking content – there is not a ton to report. Although I will say that Nick made sure I got at least one spanking in every state we visited! I did think that was sweet.

We left Arches and headed out as it got colder and colder. Being from the east we rarely travel more than a few miles without passing a mall, a Wal-Mart, or at least a convenience store – not so in the west! We traveled some of the loneliest roads I’ve ever been on. It felt like the very definition of in the middle of nowhere! But even on the lonely stretches we saw many beautiful sights. 

As we came over the mountain it began to snow, making me a little nervous but I was okay until we got to the ‘Devil’s Backbone’ where there was a sheer cliff on both sides of the road and NO guard rails! That’s when I figured I’d best close my eyes and sleep, leaving the driving to Nick and the Lord and thank goodness they did a great job!

It was snowing in this one, but you can't see it.

Bryce Canyon was our next stop and it was beautiful – probably. I quickly found out I’m not a canyon person. They did have some spots with guard rails but not nearly enough! As I walked up to one of the viewing areas, it was snowing and the ground was wet, I slipped a little. No problem but my feet slid about three inches in the wet mud. As I regained my footing with the help of my walking stick I look up to see Nick standing on the slippery ground – not six inches from the edge, no guard rail, taking pictures! He later laughed at my fears, but the truth is he could have slipped on that muddy ground and it nearly gave me a heart attack.

See what I mean about the lack of guard rails!

We headed out the next morning for our next spot – and it ended up being one of my very favorites. But getting there took more lonely roads and more amazing sights.

If you’re into travel blogs come back next week. Meanwhile there is a brand new Fantasy Friday to read this week. Not only is it a great story, I was so happy to learn who wrote it! Be sure to come by Friday.

A little of our trip

I’m finally home and I sure hope it stays that way for a while! The trip for the funeral was smooth, but still tiring. I got to see cousins from five states and DC. We all had some good talks and I met one cousin’s wife and his nineteen-year-old daughter for the first time. Not one argument, not even a snide comment was heard – I still think it’s an amazing family and I’m proud of how well we all get along.

I want to tell you a little about our trip, not a vacation mind you, but a wonderful trip. Nick doesn’t take vacations. I vacation with a few blogging friends whenever I can. On vacations we eat, talk, eat some more, talk some more, nap and drink. These things take place in our rooms, around the pool or on the beach. Nick doesn’t really believe in vacations, but our trip was spectacular!

We started by flying to Salt Lake. Even someone unfamiliar with the place could tell the water levels of the lake were extremely low, yet it was still beautiful. 

We left for Arches National Park the next morning and I do hope people it this ‘dry’ region were thankful for the rain we brought. Driving in this area brought us eastern many unusual sights – mostly wide opened spaces and very strange mountain formations. For one thing, our mountains have trees – these mountains were naked!

Arches was amazing even in the rain. I was able to do some of the trails for some good pictures. 

Still I refused to allow Nick another attempt at my life and I didn’t go with him on the two mile hike for this next picture. He did tell me when he returned that I’d made the right choice by staying in the car. The hike, he told me, would have been treacherous in good weather, but the rain had made the rock particularly slick and dangerous. All the pictures I’m posting are mine except for this one. It’s Nick’s favorite of the trip.

If you don't mind more pictures come back in a few days.

Home, then off again

We’re back home safe and sound and the trip was wonderful. Being home is wonderful too. My brain still hasn’t completely caught up with me – you know it tends to wander. On the last leg home we were delayed again and again at the airport for over five hours. Once we landed at our home airport we had a ninety minute drive home. We got here after 2 AM and we are definitely too old to handle that hour!

The trip was wonderful. Home body that I am, I still enjoyed it greatly. I want to tell you more about it and I’ll share more pictures but at the moment I’m planning to take off again. My last uncle passed away while we were gone. My grandparents had eight children, seven boys and a girl. They were fantastic people! When I hear someone speaking of the ‘Greatest Generation’ this is the bunch I think of. All were in the military and all but the youngest served overseas in WWII.

My uncle Charles, who just passed, had been overseas for two years. When he learned he was being shipped home, he kept it a secret from his family. Arriving home he planned to sneak upstairs and simply come down and join his parents for a dinner surprise. As he hurried up the steps to avoid being seen, my grandmother called from the kitchen, “Charles, is that you?” Eight children, this one away for over two years and not expected home and yet she knew the sound of his footsteps. That story always amazed me.

When my dad passed, the preacher told the story of  a car accident where my parents, not yet married, and my uncle Charles and his future wife were riding in the mountains. The story went that my Dad was driving when it went off the road and they crashed down the hillside. Thankfully, no one was hurt. Back at our home after the funeral, Charles said, “Let me correct what the preacher said. He was right when he said your mom and dad were in the front seat, but no one was driving!” 

I’m flying out for the funeral Thursday. Nick really needed to get back to work, though he offered to try to get another day off so he could drive there with me. But he’s exhausted and his sister is having surgery today. The other sister is caring for her. Nick will be helping more with his dad. I could have driven there alone, but it’s just to the edge of being too far and I do tend to fall asleep when in a car – whether or not I’m driving. Flying seemed the best plan.

After I get home, I hope I can stay for a long while! I’m ready to start writing again. A new book began working in my head during some of our driving time out west. I’m ready to start typing! Back soon.

Off to the wild blue yonder

Just dropping by with a couple of bit of new from my wildly exciting life. (Okay it’s not a wildly exciting life, but I’m enjoying it.)

First bit of new – Blushing Books accepted my new book! Several of my friends said, ‘I had no doubt.’ And I appreciated their confidence. But I had serious doubts. This book is for the Corbin’s Bend series – that’s their series. I mean Cassie is my series, I wrote it to please myself and hopefully the readers. But did BB feel I was up to their series standards? That had me worried. I was also worried that they were going to stop the series before the book was ready to go. Thankfully, they hadn’t.

I have no idea when it will come out. I’ll let you know. My other book have taken about two months from submission to release. I’ll tell you more about the book as we get closer, but I’ll tell you now I feel many of you will be able to relate to it.

Second bit of news is that we’ll be leaving on our trip out west this week. We’ll be gone about eight days. We’re flying, then renting a car and doing a LOT of driving. It’s a good thing Nick and I get along well. And maybe a good thing that we both have some hearing problems – great for being able to mutter under your breath. We do get along well, but we’re not usually together 24/7. But I have no fears. And I know we’ll see some beautiful things.

Two of the beautiful things we’ll get to see are blogging friends. We’ll be visiting with Sunny and Ray as well as Ella and Sam. I’m looking forward to that. It will be my first time meeting the husbands.

I’m not taking my computer (gasp) but I’ll be in touch as soon as we get back. You all hold down blogland and don’t forget me.