Tagged: wine

The beach.

Oh internet. How I’ve missed you and your fickle nature. Missed you so much, in fact, im doing exactly what I told you I didn’t want to do- I’m writing this from the beach, book waylaid, beer in hand. Of course, by the time y’all read this I’ll have been back in dreary, cold, wherever I live for a few days, but thus is the power of time travel.

I’m starting to convince myself I could happily move here for a month or two. Not forever, just long enough to bury my toes in the sand and forget about the real world for a while. Mammia Mia and I ate at our favorite little Italian place the other day, Il Bacaro, and watched people drift in and out of their adorable little apartment complex with their dogs. It was lovely. And the fact that the all-male staff were very accommodating with the bread and the wine certainly helped. Sidenote – what is it about Italian restarants and their men and their big doe eyes that gets me everytime? I just want to sit in the window with a glass of red wine and a bowl of homemade pasta and an Italian man. That’s all I want out of life. Well, and maybe something chocolate for dessert. And a puppy. And a million dollars.

This sucks.

This sucks.

Anyways. Me. Beach. The humid air. The softly lapping waves. The cold beer. Its all very Hemmingway. My ex-boyfriend Dali (speaking of Italians) would be proud. It was his birthday just the other day, by the by. Many happy returns.

If I could wax romantic for a moment (which is something I very rarely deign to do) let me just say how much I love the ocean. I read a line in Lev Grossman’s The Magicians just the other day, which of course I can no longer find, but it was something about the comforting stability of a place with water. But like, better. You get it.


Fiction Friday #1 – The Bad Word.

***In the effort to have somewhat of a regular theme or at least a schedule, and in line with my goal of keeping myself writing creatively, Fridays will now be devoted to flash fiction. Huzzah.

Today’s prompt is from Flash Fiction – Write from a child’s POV.


I was mad at Aunt Martha for a whole week after she made me wash my mouth out with the slim bar of Dove’s she kept especially for these occasions. I didn’t even get to explain to her what had really happened before she marched me up the stairs to the sink and stuck the end of the slimy stick between my teeth. I was specially mad because no one had told me beforehand that what I said was A Bad Word and that saying that my stepbrother Jon was one for pushing me off the docks was a Sin, even if it was true.

I wanted to explain to Aunt Martha afterwards that I had heard my Mom call my stepdad Ray that Word two days before in the living room, but then I remembered that I had supposed to be in bed anyways and that maybe sneaking downstairs for an extra cookie even after bath time and prayers was maybe also a Sin, and at that point I’d already washed my tongue off real good. It wasn’t fair though, and I explained to Him that I felt like it was okay because Jon got two cookies and a sip of the wine that kids weren’t supposed to have at dinner, and he’s a whole two years younger than me.

I remember they had finished off a whole bottle of that red stuff between the two of them minus one sip for Jon and none for me, because they gave me the bottle to put into the recycle bin in the garage and my slippers got wet on the bottom, and Mom yelled at me because I got marks on the floor when I came back in. I had to go to bed early again for that and I had to say three extra prayers, even though Jon didn’t even have to. I guess that’s why I was so mad that I snuck down the stairs to eat another cookie, and Mom and Ray were yelling real loud so they didn’t even hear me, and just when I reached out for the extra chocolately one right on top, Mom said The Word. I remembered it because it started with a juh sound like January and that’s when my real dad went to heaven last year.

What I did tell Aunt Martha was that I really didn’t mean to call Jon That Word, but that it wasn’t fair because he didn’t even get punished for pushing me, and that I was mad because nobody helped me up out of the water and it was at the big kid’s dock and I don’t swim so good yet. Maybe that was all I needed to say, because she even gave me a toothbrush to get all the extra soap out, and that made me a little less mad, and she told me that He was watching and that if I waited and was a good girl, He would save me. And I wanted to tell Aunt Martha that I didn’t want saving, I just wanted an extra cookie, but then it was time to go home, and I didn’t want to keep Mom waiting in the driveway.