Posted in Fantasy and Magic, Horror, Writing

The Dark Fairy

Evan wondered what to do, if anything, with the information he had just received from his grandfather. Evan was only 17 years old. Most of his family was gone. His mother had recently passed away. His father had left the family when he was a child. He was living with his grandfather, who was dying. Evan was taking care of him. Evan could hear his rasping breath, even though he was in the next room. They didn’t have the money to hire any help. Evan was exhausted from the 24 hour shifts, grabbing sleep here and there, that he was pulling taking care of Gramps.

Gramps was napping and Evan was wrapped up in a wool blanket, sitting beside his bed. The old house was cold and drafty and he had just heard the most fantastic story. He wondered if Gramps was just sick and delusional. He even wondered if he was so sleep-deprived that he had imagined it all. Suppose it was true? What should he do?

As the old man lay sleeping, Evan thought about the story. Fairies. Could fairies really exist? If Gramps was telling the truth, they did exist. Evan started to drift off to sleep while thinking of the fairy story but something hit his head. He jumped up, looked around, but there was nothing there. What was it? He must have dreamed it. He had to stay awake in case Gramps needed him.

Once again, he started to think about the fairy story. Gramps told him that, all of his life, there had been this creature, a fairy, that had accompanied him everywhere he went. The fairy, a female, thought of him as her pet. Evan had always thought of fairies as funny, light, fairy tale things. Gramps said this was a dark fairy, really a mean fairy. Gramps was confessing to Evan because he felt guilty. This fairy had made Gramps do many bad things.

Gramps told Evan about a book he had on fairies, so Evan went downstairs to find it. As he started down the stairs, he tripped on broken wood and started to fall, but suddenly he wasn’t falling. The fall stopped and it felt like something grabbed him by the shirt collar.

“That’s weird,” Evan thought. “What broke my fall? Felt like something stopped me. Oh well, best consider myself lucky.”

Evan went on down the stairs and into the living room to the bookcase. He found the fairy book and reached for it.

“Ouch,” Evan said, as it felt like something hit him on the hand. Then, as he tried to get the book out, it felt like it was stuck. As he tugged on it, he fell backwards and hit his head on the wooden floor.

Evan started wondering what was going on, but he picked up the book and walked back upstairs so he could read and sit by Gramps. He leafed through the old, tattered book until he found the page on dark fairies. The more he read, the more frightened he became. Dark fairies do just what Gramps said. They make people do bad things. They treat them as pets. They are malevolent creatures. Evan started to shake all over. Gramps continued to softly snore.

Evan tried to calm himself by deciding that Gramps’ story was just the ramblings of a sick old man. He was so sleepy that he gradually drifted off in his chair.

Evan woke with a start. How did he get outside? He wasn’t just outdoors but he was in the sky. He was flying and something was holding him up. He heard a whisper in his ear, a female voice, that said her name was Ramona and she was his fairy. Evan started to scream and squirm and Ramona put something over his mouth. He could hardly breathe. She told him in a very stern whisper to shut up or she would make the noose around his neck, with which she was holding him up, even tighter.

Evan was so scared. He was scared of Ramona and of flying. He couldn’t stop squirming and he was screaming behind his gag. Ramona pulled the noose a little tighter. She whispered that Gramps was a much better pet than was Evan.

Suddenly, Evan could tell they were going down toward the ground. Before they got there, Evan fell. All of a sudden, he was on the ground. He could hardly move since he had hit the ground hard. There beside him stood a creature. She was maybe a foot tall. Evan noticed that she had a long black cape on and sported long, flowing black hair. She had piercing blue eyes. He couldn’t look away from her eyes.

Ramona laughed uproariously. She asked Evan if he had enjoyed the ride and the fall.

Evan said, “No. Take me back to Gramps. He’s sick and he needs me.”

“That old man is dying,” said Ramona. “He doesn’t need anything but to be left alone. We have a job to do.”

“Who are you and what do you want with me?” Evan asked.

“I told you. I’m Ramona, your fairy. I was your Gramps fairy and now I’m yours. You’re my pet. You look like a fine boy.”

Evan replied, “I don’t want a fairy. I want to go home. I’m cold and sleepy and I need to be with Gramps. He’s my responsibility. You’re a horrible fairy. I must be having a nightmare.”

“You are going to have a nightmare if you don’t shut up,” said Ramona, as she hit  Evan with a stick. She hit him over and over again, until Evan was almost unconscious. Then, she woke him up.

As Evan sat up, Ramona said, “Do you see that house over there?”

Even shook his head yes.

Ramona said, “There are three people who live there. A man, woman, and female child. The woman needs to die and you are going to kill her.”

Click here to read Part 2 of A Dark Fairy, an exercise in collaborative storytelling sponsored by Chuck Wendig at Terribleminds.com.

 

 

A Discovery of Witches

Posted in Fiction, Politics

The Snollygoster Politician

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“Oh, he is a snollygoster, all right. That Donald, he is a right snollygoster,” the old man said as he stood on the street corner talking to a group of folks that had gathered round him.

“What’s a snollygoster, mister?” Asked a young fellow who was part of the group.

The old man replied, “We don’t want to vote for a snollygoster, young man. A snollygoster is a right unprincipled fellow. He can be anyone, but is usually one of those unscrupulous politicians. Ha! In the old times, they smoked big cigars, carried carpetbags, wore flowered waistcoats, and were very shrewd and loud and proud in getting their point across to the public.”

The old man continued, “I think they are a bit more in disguise now. They are still loud and proud, but if they are politicians, they wear expensive suits, give speeches that promise the world, but they are really out for themselves and not for the people they are trying to represent. They are shrewd, however. You have to be more shrewd to spot one. You can usually spot their egos before you can see them.”

The young man nodded his head and started talking softly to the other people standing around the old man who was obviously holding court on that street corner. There were rumblings in that crowd. It was hard to tell if they were with the old man or against him. The crowd was growing.

The place was a street corner in New York City in the U.S. The time was October, 2016, only a month before the U.S. Presidential election. The candidates for President of the United States were probably two of the most disliked candidates ever running for President and it was clear that the old man was talking about one of them, Donald Trump, the businessman turned politician. There were rumors about both candidates, but new information had just popped up about Mr. Trump. Disturbing information. This information had apparently sparked the discussion on the street corner that day.

A middle-aged woman in the crowd spoke out. “Donald Trump is a snollygoster. We should all be able to see it. He says he is supportive of women’s issues, but look at the new information we just learned. Trump has even admitted that it’s true.”

Someone else in the crowd asked, “What information? Tell us.”

The middle-aged woman said, “Donald Trump made extremely lewd and sexually aggressive comments about women, citing that he could do anything he wanted to women because of his “star” status before a television show in 2005. His words were captured on tape because he said them on a hot mic pinned to his lapel. He had been married to his current wife, Melania Trump, only a few months at the time. Mr. Trump admitted the remarks were made but was not apologetic.”

There was a louder rumbling in the crowd after that explanation.

The middle-aged woman continued, “How can we, as a society who professes to give equal opportunity to everyone, vote for a candidate for President who has such disregard for such a large segment of our population?”

A cheer went up from the crowd surrounding the old man. Obviously, the crowd was an anti-Trump crowd or at least a crowd eager to hear the information the wise old man was imparting to them.

The old man said, “There have been many other revelations about this Donald that make us wonder how he can deal with foreign leaders who are women, governors and senators and representatives who are women, staff who are women, and women’s issues that come across his desk. He obviously has a blatant disregard for women and only values them in the bedroom.”

A loud male voice said, “But what can we do? He is very close to the other candidate in the polls. He may win!”

“We have to stop this carpetbagger, this snollygoster,” the old man said. “Do what Americans do best. Revolt! Go to his rallies and demonstrate against him. Make him drop that snollygoster cigar out of his mouth and lose his cool. Don’t vote for him and tell everyone you know!”

The old man said, “Remember the stories of the Old West where a covered wagon would pull up into towns and everyone would gather round because they knew there was a salesman on it selling products that might help their ailments? A salesman would appear in a flamboyant costume and have all kinds of products — elixirs to help their rheumatism, potions to cure whatever ailed them? Those elixirs and potions all turned out to be nothing more than snake oil. Nothing at all that would help and the people paid good money for them because they were desperate.”

“Yes,” the crowd, that had tripled in size, cried.

“That Donald is offering us snake oil if he becomes President. What he offers sounds good to some of us who are desperate but it will turn out to be nothing that will help us and will probably hurt us instead. He is the snollygoster in the flamboyant costume and the loud voice,” said the old man.

At that point, the crowd was whipped into a frenzy. Someone had gone into a local store and had gotten material to make signs and posters. Everyone was down on the ground making anti-Donald posters to carry. The crowd numbered at least 500 people.

The old man slipped quietly away. He had done his work on that particular street corner. He was off to another street corner in another part of New York City. You see, the old man was not as old as he seemed. He was a Viet Nam veteran who loved his country. He was also ill and did not have long to live. But, he and some of us buddies from that war were not about to see their beloved country taken over by a carpetbagger. They were spread out all over the U.S., doing exactly what the old man was doing. They were on street corners all over America, holding court, telling the truth about the snollygoster determined to highjack their beloved country. They were not going to let that happen.

The old man trudged on.

#blogpropellant #amwriting #amblogging #writing #realDonaldTrump #politics

TBP’s On-Line Writer’s Guild #33

Random Number 3

 

 

Posted in Fiction, romance, The Blog Propellant

The Silver and the Divorce

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Waiting on this divorce was so hard. Ana couldn’t wait until the property settlement was worked out and it was all finally in motion. That hadn’t happened yet. Now her soon-to-be ex-husband was outside mowing the yard. He was not really supposed to be on the property and now, on top of that, someone was knocking at the door. Ana went to the door. Her husband was standing there.

“Ana, I need to come in, cool off, and get a drink of water. It’s hot out here,” Walter said, her husband. Ana, being a kind soul, lets Walter inside. Instead of walking into the kitchen to get a glass of water, Walter walked straight to the living room and the silver chest. He reached in, took the small silver chest out, and started to walk outside.

“What in the hell are you doing?” Ana cried.

“What does it look like?” Walter said.

While he was distracted, Ana grabbed the silver chest out of his hands before he could get out the door. She thought he was going to hit her.

“Give that back to me,” Walter said.

Ana said, “Walter, I inherited that silver. That is not yours. Don’t you dare think you can remove that from this house.” Walter tried to grab it from her again.

Ana’s sister was temporarily living with her during her divorce as they didn’t feel, even before this incident, they could trust Walter. Marcia was standing in the living room, getting ready to dial 911 on the phone.

Marcia said, “Walter, I’m calling the police if you don’t get out of this house immediately.”

Walter didn’t leave. Instead, he started taunting the two women. Calling Ana names. Saying terrible things. Marcia immediately called the police and they didn’t take long to show up. There must have been a cruiser in the area.

A male and female police officer exited the cruiser and Ana went outside and told the officers what had happened, over Walter’s screams and insults. Ana felt her temper about to explode as she had been through a lot with Walter already, during the course of the separation. She was trying to keep her emotions in check and having a hard time doing it.

The male officer took Walter aside to talk to him as the female officer talked to Ana. There was a restraining order against Walter. He wasn’t even supposed to be there, let alone removing property from the house. The officer’s told Walter to leave and Ana to go inside the house. Before Walter left, he continued to scream insults at Ana. Ana was about to explode and the female officer could tell. She had her hand on Ana’s arm.

Finally, Walter said the wrong thing before the officer’s could get him off the property. He screamed insults about Ana’s family and the fact she had inherited a number of items from them. This was a sensitive subject between them as Ana’s family had always been good to Walter and loved him. It was enough to cause Ana’s temper to finally blow.

Suddenly, Ana did not care that two police officers were standing in the yard with she and Walter. She saw the metal gas can on the lawn right next to her and she picked it up and swung it at Walter’s head. Not once, but twice. Had Walter not ducked, she would have hit him with it. All the while, Ana was returning the screaming insults at Walter as he began to call her a crazy whore. He had pushed her too far.

The action was almost too fast for the police officers but as Walter came toward Ana, the male police officer grabbed Walter as the female police officer just kept her hand on Ana’s arm and quietly told her to shut up right now. Walter had clearly violated the restraining order but Ana had also tried to assault him, even though she did it to protect herself, her sister, and her property.

Walter was sent away with a warning not to come back on the property while he was under the restraining order. Ana was warned, by a giggling female police officer, not to assault her husband no matter how tempting it was. Everyone went to their respective corners.

As Ana and Marcia tried to relax that evening by reading and watching television, they could hear Walter’s motorcycle circling and circling the block. Ana thought of her silver and decided to sleep with it under her bed. #amwriting #amblogging #writing #romance #divorce #blogpropellant

Read Part 2, The Silver and the Divorce HERE

@Copyright Rosemary Carlson 2016

 

 

 

Posted in weekendcoffeeshare, Writing

#weekendcoffeeshare 10/8/2016

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Good morning! How are all of you this morning? I would like to invite you in for coffee or tea? I have Jamaican Blue Mountain coffee, regular roast, breakfast roast, and chicory. I also have tea. Hot cinnamon spice, apricot, Paris, and several flavors of decaf. Just take your pick! I would love to hear about what you have been doing this week.

A couple of things have been going on with me. I’m setting up a writing room for myself as I am working on a novel. The writing room is going to be in my sunroom. It is only in the planning stages right now but I hope it is ready within the next month. It will have my big knotty pine desk facing outward toward the windows so I can have the view of my beautiful backyard and the forest. My sunroom is surrounded by windows. It will have two sofas for comfort and possibly a recliner. Several big shaggy rugs will cover the short pile carpet that is on the floor. I will have strong lamps for excellent lighting. I want a microwave and room for my tea. Possibly even a small refrigerator.

I have to improve the heating and air conditioning systems in the sunroom, but it doesn’t look like that will be too difficult. I want it warm in the winter and nice and cool in the summer. A friend suggested that I have tapestries hanging, particularly in the winter, to improve warmth and I like that idea. I may have a screen to block off an area that I don’t want to see. I will decorate the walls with art pleasing to me plus cute signs relevant to the challenges writers face. Marty, the sign you just sent me will be perfect. I want a book shelf – a small one – to hold my writing books.

Of course, I will have a dog bed for my little dog, Betsy, and some of her toys in my writing room so she can be with me as I write. Betsy is a velcro dog and doesn’t leave my side. Fortunately, there is a door from my writing room out to the deck and backyard so she can go in and out as she pleases.

I am really looking forward to using my writing room. It is apart from the main part of my house and will give me privacy and quiet so I can do my work. It won’t be too quiet, however. I will have my music there with me. Of course, I will have the electrical outlets necessary for all my computers and electronics as well as a WiFi modem. I wanted to tell all of you about it! I have a very creative friend when it comes to the decorative part of things and I hope she will help me as decorating is not my strong suit. Pam, I hope you’ll help with this part!

Fall is coming and winter won’t be far behind here in Kentucky in the U.S. We have four definite seasons and I will be able to watch them change in my writing room with all the windows. I hope that will give me inspiration. Since I will be looking at a forested backyard and a deep forest beside and behind it, I will be able to watch the wildlife and revel in the different types of foliage and fauna. It will be a beautiful view as the leaves change and when it snows.

In other news, my friend, Pam, and I visited the most lovely little boutique in the city nearest me this past week. Sometime, I will write an entire blog post about it. It is called Jerome and it has been in Lexington for more than 50 years. Owned, still, by the original owner. It’s one of those shops you don’t find anymore with all kinds of personal attention by the proprietor and sales people. Jerome has the most beautiful clothes and accessories. They will special order anything you want. They also provide “beauty” services for women. Jerome provides a valuable service in that they have high quality wigs for women who have a hair problem such as those who have gone through chemotherapy or have other issues. It’s always fun and a pleasure to shop at Jerome and to take advantage of the beauty services they offer women. This kind of boutique is hard to find in any city these days.

My fellow bloggers here on WordPress are writers, many professional writers. I would love to hear about where you write. Tell me about your writing spaces in the comments! Have a wonderful week!  #weekendcoffeeshare #beauty #writing #writingspaces #amwriting #amblogging

*#weekendcoffeeshare brought to you by Parttimemonsterblog.com

 

 

 

Posted in Non-fiction

Today’s Blog Prompt – Realize Hurricane Matthew

Do you know what I realize today? I realize that those of us in the Eastern United States, who are physically able and have some skills, need to prepare to go to Florida and South Carolina after Hurricane Matthew is over and the authorities call for volunteers. This is a hurricane like no other that has ever hit east central Florida.

It is a Category 4 taking a dead eye on beautiful Daytona Beach, Florida. It is also going to scrap Florida from Miami Beach up through Vero Beach. It is also going to threaten inland Florida and on up into coastal Georgia and South Carolina. Please consider going to help out if you possible can. Contact the Salvation Army or any other volunteer organization that will be making trips to the area. Thank you. #dailyprompt #weather #HurricaneMatthew #amwriting #amblogging #writing

Posted in Non-fiction

The Lone Oak

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I became acquainted with the old bur oak tree near downtown Lexington, Kentucky, not as a child, but as a very young adult. It was something of a Lexington landmark and I think it deserves a story. Its own place in history. No doubt, according to the tree specialists, it had at least a couple of centuries of stories to tell since Lexington was settled in June of 1775 and this ancient tree was at least that old.
The bur oak was located right off Lafayette Parkway leading up to Lafayette High School. Barely out of our teens, my husband and I were hunting for our first house and our realtor showed us a rather decrepit small home with this magnificent tree in the backyard. I don’t know if we bought the house because of the house or because of the tree. It was astonishing. Spreading my arms as wide as I could, I still could not embrace its diameter.
I don’t know how tall it was but it was too tall for tree specialists to even contemplate taking it down back in the 1970s. Bur oaks often grow 200-300 feet tall. It was many feet in circumference. It shaded our entire home in the summer with its big, brawny limbs. Every other fall, it produced the most interesting acorns and gallons of them. These trees produce the largest acorns of any oak tree and they often were the preferred food for bears, harkening back to another time in the history of the place where Lexington began.

Besides enjoying the fact that this special tree was in our newly-acquired back yard, it provided a conversation starting point with our neighbors on the aptly-named Lone Oak Street. Our neighbors were a couple old enough to be our grandparents and well-known Lexington residents, Fred and Lois Flege. We bonded over that tree. They took to us and we to them and they became like our family.
We lived on that street and under that tree, with the Flege’s as our neighbors, for many years. The tree developed dead limbs that we had to prune but we could bear to do no more than that. It was an important touchstone for us and for the Flege’s.
Shortly after we sold our house, the new owner took down the big tree. It had become dangerous. That tree will forever be a part of our memories of our early life in Lexington with our beloved neighbors, the Flege’s.
Years later, I moved to the town where I taught at the university and one day, I found a bur oak acorn in my front yard. There are no bur oak trees that I know of in this part of the Daniel Boone National Forest. I planted it. Maybe someday, long after I am gone, there will be another majestic bur oak tree in what used to be my yard. One of our best memories will always be the big bur oak tree standing in the middle of Lexington. #amwriting #amblogging #writing

 

Posted in Fantasy and Magic, Fiction, Flash Fiction, romance

Roundup of Fiction Stories

A reader asked me to post a list of all the fiction blog stories I’ve written. You can also find the list on the front page of the blog at a link at the top of the home page under Fiction.

You can find all Fiction HERE.

Posted in Fantasy and Magic, Fiction, romance

The Play: The Power of Magic, Part 2

To read Part 1 of The Play,  click here The Play: The Power of Magic

Josh and April, after reading the script for The Play: The Power of Magic, decided something was wrong. It didn’t seem complete. They decided to send it back to the theatre department’s scriptwriters, make some suggestions, and ask their opinions. Two days passed and it was getting close to time to try to find actors for the play. Josh and April were getting nervous. Then, the scriptwriter’s sent back the script and they were in agreement. They expanded the script with some changes.

Josh explains the revised script. He tells April that Rachael did, indeed help give Peter back his youth with her magic for a little while. But no man would be content with regaining his youth just for a little while. The scriptwriter’s realized that was the flaw in the script. Instead, it continued like this:

The reason the fantasy only last for a little while was because Peter was also involved with a woman named Prissy. One of the main reasons Peter felt old was because Prissy made him feel old with her judgmental attitude and her criticisms of him. Prissy was a woman old before her time and wanted to control every aspect of Peter’s life. Peter thought he needed Prissy.

Usually, there is a reason a man stays with such a woman. We all have flaws and, in Peter’s case, his flaw caused him to stay with Prissy – his need for the security that money brought. Prissy came from a wealthy family and she had the money, together with Peter’s money, to allow them to do whatever they wanted, including the travel that Peter loved. Peter had traded his freedom and basic happiness for money and the temporary pleasure it brought him. In turn, he had to bow to Prissy.

Peter had known Rachael and her magic fairy dust for many years. Somehow, they had never quite connected. This time, Rachael could help Peter regain his youth and vitality and they rediscovered the love they had once known and had even almost once acted on. That magic wand was powerful. Peter and Rachael reconnected in a way neither ever knew was possible through the magic wand and fairy dust. They fell deeply in love.

Despite the love between them, sometimes love is not enough. They had to come back down to earth and Peter realized that Rachael did not have the financial resources that Prissy did. Their combined money would not have taken them as far. When Prissy found out about the relationship between Peter and Rachael, she threatened to take it all away from Peter. He bowed to the pressure, thinking he valued money and travel more than he valued love. Even Rachael’s magic fairy dust, magic wand, magnet, smiling face, and other tools of the magic trade could not compete with the almighty dollar.

A tragedy did indeed occur. Peter went back to Prissy and cut off all contact with Rachael. Rachael’s heart was broken as were her magic powers. The fairy dust would never be used again. The magic wand and magnet were dumped in an old chest in the attic. Rachael went back to her life, alone, as she couldn’t love anyone but Peter. Peter had promised her, the last night they were together, that he would always be in her life. He was gone. Her love was gone. #blogpropellant #amwriting #amblogging #writing #fantasy #NecessaryFic #shortstorymag #shortfiction8

 

Posted in Fantasy and Magic, Fiction

The Play: The Power of Magic, Part 1

The Play: The Power of Magic, Part 2

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“The committee has chosen the script for us,” Jose says to April, the other director in the theatre department of the university.

Their department has been charged with putting on a play starring two characters and a committee has been sorting through scripts trying to choose the right one.

“It’s a fantasy come-to-life with a little magic,” Josh says. Let me tell you about the script. It’s a one-act play.

Peter is a middle-aged man who is feeling old. He’s happy in his life and has some fun but not always the fun he likes to have. He doesn’t smile much. Rachael is a middle-aged woman who has never felt old. She smiles all the time and has a secret. She believes in magic. Especially when it comes to Peter, who she has always loved. Peter is drawn to her as by a magnet because she helps him feel not so old anymore. He doesn’t know about her magic wand that sprinkles fairy dust along his path to help him.

Peter has had some health issues that have made him feel old to the point of using a cane and being a wise one. He feels the clock is ticking on his life.

Rachael examines Peter and his life with her magic magnifing glass. She sees a man who has lost some of his self-confidence, his quick smile, and the twinkle in his eyes. He’s become convinced he needs someone to lean on.as the clock ticks down on his life. Rachael doesn’t believe any of that.

With her smiling face, magic wand and fairy dust, and magnet, she gives Peter back his youth, but only for a little while.

A tragedy befalls Peter and Rachael. Rachael learns of the tragedy through a letter. Fantasies always come to an end even though Peter and Rachael planned for this one to last a lifetime. Rachael’s love for Peter will never come to an end. #blogpropellant #amwriting #amblogging #writing #fantasy #NecessaryFic #shortstorymag #shortfiction8

Cubing the Stories #13

 

 

Reblogged on rosemarycarlson.com – Writings from the Heart. Wow! The food looks wonderful. Your work is awesome. You’ve taken such great care to make us all comfortable! Come over and visit me!

jacquelineobyikocha's avatara cooking pot and twisted tales

Image result for party imagesYeah! It’s fun time again. 🙂

We have hit October so fast that sometimes my mind spins at the way time zooms by. Doesn’t it make one feel like a happy hamster running around in circles in pursuit of time? 🙂

Anywhoo, I hope your weekend is going great. You are most welcome to my monthly meet & mingle, shake a leg & jingle, connect & interact with other awesome folks in here.

If this is your first-time visit, the rules of play are outlined below, if you are an old-timer, you know the drill.

Grab some refreshments and favours which nicely arranged down the page. Feel free to indulge, these are zero calories😉

Just some little party rules:

  1. You must mix and mingle with others. Don’t be a wallflower. Go say hello to someone and you can participate in the Tag a poem, a thought or quote below.
  2. Let us know where…

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October Blog Blast – Let’s Get This Party Started.🎶🍰🍨🌭🍸🍻💃