naked friday

Enter Mark: Las Vegas City Planner extraordinaire, intelligence laden, hot as a rock star in leather pants, wit up the wazoo, wild hair on the long-ish side, a heart of gold, puppy dog eyes, and 6 foot 2 inches of bonafide, sinew-packed man with a penchant for using *product* in his hair and Monty Python references... Can we all say yum?

Any more gushing and I might make myself sick..and we can't have that after his inaugural appearance on my blog.... ;-)

With a new man in my life comes the emergence of new traditions. Our first being Naked Friday.

Naked Friday's really are quite simple. Once done with all forays into the public domain for the day...disrobe. Completely and preferably with total abandon. Rinse and repeat. Then go about your business as described for the rest of said Friday and maybe even into Saturday. You can do this alone, if need be, but it is much better with another and hopefully someone you'd enjoy seeing nude. Touching in this state is encouraged yet up to each individual and not necessary. Just remember not to perform certain tasks that emphasize the reasons we aren't naked most of the time. These include...sanding floors, opening pickle jars, coughing, and bicycle maintenance...

All joking aside, Naked Friday's are first and foremost...intimate. And well, we all crave intimacy in a variety of forms. Because while it can be incredibly sexy and sensual, nudity is also awkward, unusual, and sobering. We're forced to surrender to our hang-ups or dwell in them. All of our so-called *flaws* are on display for the other to see and we must figure out how to handle them. Since everyone is different when it comes to dealing with such raw and pure feelings, it's inevitably a learning experience for all parties involved. Being so open has eased many fears that I've had in the past and I'm honored to be able to share such an experience with Mark.

Go ahead people....try it!

TGINF, Baby!!

a new day

September already? Where has the time gone... Just yesterday I was whining about this and that, then moving on toward new ideas and new endeavors. Life never ceases to amaze me with its twists and turns and ups and downs, like that of a novel you can't put down and you never want to end. And so it continues....

I did end up picking my friends' brains about my business idea and everyone has been helpful and supportive in all aspects. I'm not going to give up on it yet. It may need tweaking and a little time (and money) to get into the works, but its still a viable thought that grows and morphs with each day. I'll let you all know as it progresses..

In the beginning of August I went to visit my bestest friend in the whole wide world, Ariana, in Newport, Rhode Island. I stayed with her and her boyfriend Alan at their home off the Point District. I went last year and it was a whirlwind trip, but this year it was much more laid back and relaxing. Nothing like a vacation to help rejuvenate the soul, right? And that's exactly what it did. I fell right into step once I got there. I initially thought I'd have trouble adjusting to the non-working schedule, but...um....no. I was able to sleep in, watch cable, enjoy the moisture in the air and the lovely color green that I miss so much living here in the desert. And along with the foliage came the history and the architecture of old. It all makes me want to breath deeply again. I was able to take a couple more tours of the mansions, photograph cemeteries, and hang out in bars where everybody new my name. Okay, so everyone didn't know my name, but when the bouncers and the wait staff remember you, it gives you a warm and fuzzy feeling. We also caught a concert and a couple comedy shows at the Yachting Center, which is a great, intimate venue right on the wharf. Newport is surreal and I was beyond glad to get to spend almost two weeks there enjoying it and the company of Ariana and Alan and all the other good people that made my visit special. Upon returning I expected more of a let down, but the trip seemed to rev me up and give me somewhat of a new lease on life. I took stock of things and regrouped...

Recently, I've been reminded by a certain special someone and, of course, nudged by the incessant clock that ticks away in my head, about my goals posted earlier this year. I like goals. I make a lot of them. It seems to give an idea more immediacy, more focus and more permanence. And well, if I have say....18 goals and roughly only half get accomplished I feel successful in that accomplishment. Because if I had only one and didn't accomplish it, I'd feel like a failure. I went back and read through them again. Some I had completely forgotten, others had fallen by the wayside for various reasons, a couple need to be re-evaluated and the rest are done!

As for the writing, I may not have kept up with the incredibly demanding schedule I imposed upon myself, but I'm still moving forward and trudging along. My main book is still fresh and alive, in revisions. It's taking much more time and effort than I imagined. It hasn't made me love writing any less or dampened my spirit though. If anything it has strengthened my respect for the craft and for the authors out there that are creating and getting their stories out there. It's a fascinating and wildly difficult process, but I learn more and more with each step and I'm confident in my ability. We'll see how long that lasts! ;-)

I'm wondering if I should do NaNoWriMo this year. I'd love to get back into the groove of writing every day in that manic form, but I fear it may detract from my revisions. I'll have to think about it.

I'll leave it at that for now....the muse will be back soon, I'm sure.

Quote of the Day: An incurable itch for scribbling takes possession of many, and grows inveterate in their insane breasts. ~Juvenal, Satires

on the horizon

I realize that my last blog may have been a tad melancholy and dramatic....No regrets though. Thank you to all my blog followers and friends who gave me their well wishes and words of wisdom and courage. You are the reason I bounce back from these moods so quickly! :-)

In my quest to keep myself thoroughly ensconced in all that is calm and bright, I have tried to surround myself with people who I admire and who make me feel...at peace. My circle of friends are a wild and wooly bunch who have a myriad of talents and skills. When searching for what I want to do in life, I often turn to them for advice and encouragement.

Lately, as I work on the revisions of my novel (I'm up to Chapter 5 and running) and work on my financial health (cough cough), I've come across the prospect of starting my own business. This comes from a slew of directions and inspirations, mostly that of friends embarking on their own business journeys (Shae in baking and Chris in a top secret web business) and from my hope in doing something that doesn't tie me down to one specific place, making me enough money to live comfortably and write my novels.

In the excitement of my idea stage, I did some serious research and am pleasantly surprised at what I found. My idea is definitely not new, but my take on it is....different. I can't go into detail quite yet, but know that I may have something here. And once I get this nailed down better in business plan form (you all know how much I love research and reports :::big smile::) I'll be looking to my friends and calling upon said talents and skills to help me make this dream a reality.

Look forward to me picking your brains....

Quote of the Day: If I don't write to empty my mind, I go mad. ~Lord Byron

finding myself

I've discovered that it's when you're sitting alone at twilight that you find out who you really are.

Somehow by the light of day your thoughts are different. With the sun comes clarity, vision, and purpose. With the moon comes panic, chaos, and deviance. And with me, twilight opens the dam and my thoughts spill out and mingle like a massive stew of nostalgia and unrealized dreams - with a hefty helping of fear dumped in when the vapors reach a crescendo.

I've had plenty of these so-called "shadow times" to reflect and dwell in all that is me since I moved into the new place. It's not pretty. In fact, it's downright depressing. I know I've talked about this before but who knew it would be so difficult for me. I actually look forward to the weekdays, when I can go to work and avoid being alone with myself. It gives me some semblance of structure and responsibility, whereas I could be at home staring at the wall. You all know I have plenty of things to do, but I lack the discipline to do them. I have nobody to answer to. And it's not like I need someone to crack the whip, but I need someone there (physically) to care. I care, but only after it's gotten too far gone for me to take.

This brings me to something I had an inkling about before, but I didn't want to admit. I'm co-dependent. There, I said it. Now, I don't believe my relationships are one-sided like they say in their definitions, but I am addicted to being in a relationship. I'm not sure why. Could my parents long marriage have the adverse effect and negatively inspire me to ALWAYS want to be included in a partnership? I'm not sure. Or could it be that I have trouble establishing platonic relationships with people? I have friends, but not deep, meaningful ones. My best friend in Rhode Island is the only long-term friend I've had and I would do anything for her. She's in Rhode Island though! My partners' have always been my best friends as well. Again, I could go on and on all day about this.

So we've established that I'm lazy and co-dependent. I'm also a control freak. I already new this, but it likes to lay dormant until something catastrophic happens. Something out of my control, go figure. Instead of freaking out, I withdraw from life and need time to figure out how to get that control back. I tend to lash out verbally, too, especially with people I care about.

There's more I need to say, yet I need a break. It took me most of the day just to get this out and I have a chapter to revise. At least I have that to go on. Maybe there will be more tomorrow. Wish me luck.

Quote of the Day: I'd rather be caught holding up a bank than stealing so much as a two-word phrase from another writer. ~Jack Smith

when in doubt

post a video...

Since I'm incredibly overwhelmed with everything that is going on in my life right now and because I'm just in one of those moods, here's a treat. My favorite emo/goth rocker.

I miss Adam.



Quote of the Day: The ablest writer is only a gardener first, and then a cook: his tasks are, carefully to select and cultivate his strongest and most nutritive thoughts; and when they are ripe, to dress them, wholesomely, and yet so that they may have a relish. ~Augustus William Hare and Julius Charles Hare, Guesses at Truth, by Two Brothers, 1827

back in the saddle

I finally got the summary of my novel organized into a place where I'm fairly happy with it. I'm sure it needs a lot of work still, but at least I have a solid foundation to start with. First drafts are one thing, but if your plot is flawed and it depends on a sequence of events for a mystery you might as well get the plot in line before you start chipping away at lofty revisions. At least, this is my thinking.

I set up a new document, pasted my first draft into it and labeled it "Second Draft." I sat down with my summary, my notes, and my cup of coffee and began this tedious process of rewriting.

And it sucks!

I can't sit as long as my brain wants me to because my chair is wood and HARD and I have a bony ass that falls asleep right when I'm on a roll. Not to mention my fear of blood clots. I swear my calf is throbbing more than usual.

Also, I don't have a desk and the bottom of my laptop is hot. Add the 100 degree Las Vegas weather and now my thighs are drenched in sweat.

Plus, my back hurts from hunching over to type.

In conclusion, my butt is asleep, I feel a blood clot coming on, my thighs are sweaty and my back is sore.

Why am I doing this again?

Oh right..I'm a writer.

P.S. HAPPY MEMORIAL DAY!

Quote of the Day: The only cure for writer's block is insomnia. ~Merit Antares

tag team...back again

In getting back into the swing of things, I finally completed my portion of the tag team story that Maura and Shae so dutifully finished on time...But better late than never, right? Well, here it is. No title yet. You decide!

As the plane slowly backed away from its designated gate, Sam realized that he didn't want to leave Chad. Yes, the living conditions at the camp where he had been working as a doctor helping with the refugees from Darfur had been dirty and cramped and often very dangerous. But he had felt like he was doing something important, more important catering to the whims of Manhattan's social elite, who only wanted the latest and greatest anti-depressant to cope with their problems. Hah, problems, like too much money and not enough compassion or understanding. After hearing the stories of violence in the camps, he marveled at the way the refugees had coped with their lives and still seemed happy, despite the cramped conditions and no food. As Keon, his Sudanese translator, had explained, their lives were better still in the camps than they were in their former homes, and that they were simply glad to be alive.

Alive. That was it, that was how Sam felt now. And it was due to what he had experienced. And Maggie. How could he leave Maggie? He could see her plainly in his mind. He remembered the first day he arrived at the Amnabak camp. He was tired and dirty and pretty sure he had made the biggest mistake of his life when he looked over to see a blur whoosh past him. She was short and red-haired with rounded curves and she never seemed to stop moving, like a hummingbird constantly in flight. The complete opposite of the women he had always dated, cool thin blondes who never did anything that might make them perspire, except the occasional Bikram yoga class.

The first time he saw her, she was playing soccer with a group of Sudanese children and he smiled at the memory of her laughter as the kids easily stole the ball from her. Maggie's laugh. She was always laughing, and she could find humor in the darkest of places.

Sam remembered the day they had left Amnabak to check on patients at the Guereda hospital. He had only been in Chad a few weeks but already he admired the dedication Maggie gave as an aid worker. She had volunteered as part of a graduate program she was in, then stayed long past her departure date.

"I can always go back to Nebraska, marry an insurance salesman and have the three children, brick house and get a golden retriever like my parents want, but first I wanted to make a difference," Maggie told him.

He watched her closely that day. No one was stranger for long with Maggie. She charmed everyone with her smile. She carried pockets full of cheap butterscotch candies, the kind wrapped in yellow cellophane, and handed them out wherever she was, leaving a trail of crinkly wrappers and happy smiles behind. Her curly hair was always trying to escape the braid she kept it in and she had a smattering of light freckles across her nose no matter how much sunscreen she slathered on each day. He learned a lot about her that day.

They stayed later at Guereda longer than they had planned and the hospital administrator urged them to stay, rather than make the drive back to Amnabak in the dark. But Dr. Mendes, the WHO doctor who had accompanied them wanted to get back to the camp and their driver Chidi assured them that he could get them back safely. It had all gone smoothly until they heard gunfire. Chidi pulled the Jeep into a deep ravine by the side of the road. The gunfire was from rival militia groups and they were caught in the crossfire. Even though the Jeep was clearly marked as an international aid vehicle, Chidi felt it was safer to wait for daylight, when peacekeeper patrols resumed. They sat huddled on the side of the Jeep, the sound of automatic weapons echoing around them.

"Anyone for a sing-a-long?" Maggie joked. "A rousing chorus of 'Kumbaya' perhaps?"

At first Sam though she was nuts, but as he saw her shiver in the darkness, he realized that she was scared too, but as always was determined to make the best of it. He moved closer to her, and put his arm around her. She was rigid for a moment, then relaxed, and leaned on him a bit. He had never wanted to protect someone more than he did at that moment, and he started to make up stories about how his mother's society friends would handle the situation, just to make her laugh.

"Now see here, Mr. Rebel," Sam said with the affected tone of a wealthy matron, "you really must stop this fighting, we have a verrry important dinner to get to you know. No time for this kind of nonsense, my good man."

Maggie chuckled a little, and they spent the rest of the night talking about everything and anything and Sam knew that was the night he fell in love

***
Maggie smiled at the little boy as Dr. Mendes listened to his heart. The youngster had arrived with his mother and two little sisters only an hour ago. He appeared to be healthier than most of the children who came through here but you could never be too sure. Illness and death occurred all too frequently in the refugee camp and Dr. Mendes was doing his best to reduce the awful statistics.

It was far too often a losing battle, though. Refugees poured into the camp and supplies were precious and scarce. As were doctors. And now they were short one. Maggie kept her smile pasted in place in spite of the tremor of anger that tore through her. Sam knew what they were facing here. How could he leave now?

Dr. Mendes declared the boy healthy and lifted him down from the table. Maggie handed him a candy which he accepted cautiously before scurrying back to his mother and sisters across the room.

“Is that it?” the doctor asked wearily.

Maggie rubbed his neck as he slumped on his stool. “For now,” she said. “You should go lie down while it’s quiet.”

“I will,” he said. “Call me if you need me.”

He walked away, a distinct droop noticeable in his shoulders and Maggie’s anger bubbled up again. Damn Sam, anyway! And damn herself for allowing him to mean so much to her. He wasn’t the first doctor to bail on the camp after a short time, and he certainly wouldn’t be the last. Most of them came in with such noble ideas of helping the unfortunate. But time and again they left in frustration or grief, unable to face the overwhelming odds that were against them.

But Maggie had believed Sam wasn’t one of those. In spite of his obviously pampered upbringing, Sam was one of the more level-headed doctors to have shown up at the camp in a long time. He was undaunted in the face of the staggering number of deaths that occurred. He wasn’t afraid to get his hands dirty and never once complained about the lack of nurses which resulted in his having to do work that was considered beneath most doctors in the States. He was compassionate, caring, and gifted. Dr. Mendes had grown to rely on Sam heavily, knowing the younger doctor was the best asset to have arrived at the camp in a year.

And now he was gone. Maggie did her best to understand his motives but his mother’s letter had been cryptic at best. An emergency at home and Sam was desperately needed. Ha! She’d probably broken a nail and her manicurist had quit on her.

Maggie sighed deeply, regretting her snide thoughts. God forbid something really terrible had happened. But from everything Sam had ever told her about his mother, her “emergencies” were often anything but. She had made it clear that she was not happy with Sam’s decision to come to Africa. Maggie wouldn’t put it past her to have cooked up some phony emergency to get Sam to come home and join his father’s practice. She sighed again as she stepped out of the building into the blazing heat.

“Something wrong, Miss Maggie?” Chidi was standing near the door, gently kicking a battered soccer ball to a couple of toddlers who squealed with delight as the ball rolled towards them. It never failed to amaze Maggie how some of the children had such energy in this heat.

“No, Chidi. I’m fine.”

The young man looked at her shrewdly. “You are missing Dr. Sam I think.”

Maggie smiled. There were no secrets in the camp, the cramped living conditions saw to that. Everyone knew that she and Sam were more than just friends and co-workers. But she wasn’t ready to discuss their relationship with Chidi, or anyone else for that matter. It was too new. And possibly over for all she knew.

Sam had said nothing beyond a vague promise to come back. Not when or for how long. Nor had he made any mention of the possibility of Maggie coming to see him in New York. There had been no promises between them, no discussion of the future and where their relationship might be headed. They had so little quiet time together there had never been an opportunity to discuss any of those things. Never been time to tell him how she felt about him. She hadn’t been expecting him to be called home so soon and in his pell-mell hurry to get back home, she hadn’t been able to find the right time. And even though she knew it was unreasonable of her to expect Sam to know she was in love with him if she had never told him, Maggie couldn’t seem to shake the resentment she was feeling. His departure felt like a betrayal.

“We sure could have used his help today,” she said to Chidi. “Dr. Mendes can’t do this all alone and that new doctor still needs time to find his footing.”

“Find his footing?” Chidi looked at her quizzically. “What does that mean? How could he not know where his feet are?”

Maggie chuckled. Chidi’s English was extremely good, but every now and then a simple idiom would cause him confusion.

“Let’s go get something to drink and I’ll tell you.” Pushing her unsettling thoughts about Sam aside, Maggie linked arms with Chidi and walked across the compound, grateful for the distraction. Sam was gone and only time would tell if she would ever see him again.

***

Sam called his mother’s cell phone once again. Still no answer. He’d lost count of how many times he’d dialed her number since the plane touched down in New York. He even tried the house phone and his father’s cell to no avail. His fears of what the “emergency” his mother wrote to him about had grown exponentially with each unanswered call. Maybe this wasn’t another ploy to get him to come home like he first thought. However, he wouldn’t have gone all this way if he really thought that was true. This was his mother, for God’s sake. He couldn’t deny her cry for help. His mother definitely had a selfish streak, but he didn’t think she was capable of lying to him in such magnitude. Besides, he had already made it clear to both his parents that this was his life and he would decide if and/or when he would join his father in his practice. He thought he had finally gotten through to his mother, then again, he was sure his fierce stubbornness came from her genes.

He hailed a cab, telling the driver to step on it as he jumped in. He tried to think positive, pushing any dark thoughts from his mind. Already, the long and arduous plane ride from Chad had him teetering between his mother’s letter and how he left it with Maggie.

Oh Maggie. He had wanted to tell her everything – how much she had changed his life, how much he loved her, and how much he wanted to be with her when he returned. But for some reason he couldn’t get the words to come out. He looked into her haunting eyes and his tongue failed him. All he could manage was a promise that sounded more like a camp friend promising to write at the end of the summer. I’m such an idiot, he thought, and smacked his forehead with the palm of his hand.

The driver glanced back in his review mirror. “You okay there, buddy?” he asked, the question barely recognizable in his thick Indian accent. Sam nodded and made a mental note to tell Chidi just how much he appreciated his near flawless English.

Sam arrived at the mansion and immediately noticed a lack of usual household commotion. Even the gardeners weren’t about. He threw down his luggage at the base of the marble steps, just as Elaina, the housekeeper, opened the front door.

“Sammy!” she gasped, pressing a hand to her chest. He bounded the up the steps towards her as she launched into a frantic explanation in Spanish.

He grabbed ahold of her arms to calm her. “Elaina, what’s wrong? Where is Mom? In English, please!”

She took a deep breath and looked into his eyes. Suddenly, her own eyes teared up.

“Jinny is at the hospital. She was hit by a car a week ago and the doctor say he couldn’t help her.” Elaina could barely finish the sentence without crying. She put her head into his shoulder and he patted her dark hair as he took in the news. A bittersweet relief washed over him.

Jinny was the family dog. Well, you could say she was his dog, considering the floppy golden retriever only came when he called her. She was fourteen years old and before he left for Chad she was still as rambunctious as ever.

“Is that where Mom and Dad are, Elaina?” he asked.

“Si, Sammy. Jinny is being sent to heaven.”

“They’re putting her to sleep?”

Elaina nodded.

“When did they go?”

Elaina looked at her watch. “It was some time ago, maybe two hours. I’m sure Jinny is with Him now,” she said, looking up and crossing herself.

Sam closed his eyes. Even if he had taken the Mercedes kept for the staff, he wouldn’t have made it to see Jinny one last time. Dr. Crenshaw’s office was clear across town. He said a silent prayer to himself.

In the grand scheme of things, this news wasn’t as decimating as what he had been expecting, but it still broke his heart. Jinny had been a good dog and a great friend all through his life. He loved her and he was upset he couldn’t let her know one more time before she passed.

“Let’s get your things inside, Sammy. Your parents will be glad to see you home during such a trying occasion. ”

Sam’s eyes flew open at her words and realization struck him.

It was too soon to come back.

Sure he missed his family and his friends, and Jinny, and he didn’t blame his mother for considering this an emergency. Jinny was considered part of the family. He wished he could have made it home earlier to have seen her one last time.

But there was someone else who needed him now. Or at least he hoped she did. He wanted her to become part of this family and he didn’t want to miss any opportunity to have her in his life, permanently. If he stayed here, Maggie might not be available when he finally came back.
“I can’t stay, Elaina,” he blurted out.

“But Sammy, you just got here! What about Jinny? What about your parents?”

“Jinny is the reason I can’t stay. It’s that wonderful dog that has inspired me to not waste any more time in being with the ones I love and telling them so. I need to go back to Chad.”

Elaina shook her head in disbelief as he gathered up his luggage and ran toward the garage for the car.

“What do I tell your parents?” she yelled after him.

“Tell them I love them..and that I’m sorry Jinny passed...and that I’m asking a woman to marry me!”


Maggie flopped herself onto the cot. It had been an incredibly long day with Dr. Mendes and now, even in darkness it was still 110 degrees. She found herself getting tired more easily in the last two weeks. Maybe it was her body telling her it was time to leave this place. She knew she was doing good things for these people, but if her heart wasn’t totally in it they would be better off with a brighter, more bushy-tailed grad student anxious to give it all they’ve got and the energy to do it.

She went through the motions of getting ready for bed – washing her face, brushing out her hair, and changing clothes. When she finally clicked off the lamp, she realized Chidi hadn’t come to see her.

Usually, Chidi would be around to talk before she went to sleep, but she hadn’t seen him all day. Keon mentioned he was picking someone up from the air field. She wondered who, since Chidi never held back any pertinent information – or any information for that matter. It just soured her mood even more. She didn’t want to admit that her mood, along with her body, had gone downhill since Sam left, but she couldn’t deny it any longer. She missed him. Really missed him. No matter what she tried to tell herself, her heart ached for his return. As futile as that dream seemed.

She turned over, trying to block out the sounds of the night – the chirping insects, the wind, the distant voices, the rolling of tires on gravel.

Chidi must have returned, she thought, and continued to try and sleep. Until footsteps approached her door and suddenly a voice came through the night.

“Maggie!” he whispered loudly. “Can I come in?”

She jumped up, somewhat groggily, yet knew what she heard.

“Sam?”

“Maggie. I need to talk to you!”

“Uh, yes! Come in,” she said, sitting on the edge of the cot, trying to sound calm. He came back!

And Sam barreled in nearly taking off the tent door as he pulled her up and into his arms. Before she could say a word, his mouth found hers and he kissed her deeply. Her arms came up and around his neck and she kissed him back with just as much ferver.

“Oh Jinny,” he moaned, and she pushed back, falling onto the cot below.

“Who’s Jinny?” she asked, somewhere between hurt and anger.

His eyes softened and he sat down next to her. He took her hand in his, though she thought about pulling it away.

“My dog,” he began, and she felt her eyebrow raise.

He laughed, and she realized how much she missed the sound.

“My dog died back in New York. That was the emergency.”

Maggie didn’t know what to say. “I’m sorry,” she said.

“Me too. I just wish my mother would have been a little more detailed in her letter. Still, Jinny was a big part of my life and it’s sad to see her go. But Jinny didn’t pass without inspiring me to do something important.” He smiled and looked down at her hand in his. She followed his gaze.

“I missed you,” she said, before the moment passed.

“I missed you, too,” he said, “a lot.”

She swallowed. She guessed she didn’t know what response that would get her if she said it. Now, she wasn’t sure she was prepared for it.

“Maggie, I love you,” he said, bringing a hand up against her cheek. “You’ve changed my life for the better and..”He fished a box out of his other pocket and reached over to click on the lamp. “..I can’t bear the thought of not spending the rest of my life with you.”

His eyes glistened as he opened the box. The ring sparkled in the lamplight and she blinked back tears.

“Marry me, Maggie,” he said, pulling the ring out for her.

She suddenly realized what Sam meant regarding Jinny’s inspiration and she reached out for the ring.

“Oh Jinny,”she said, letting the tears fall down her cheeks. “I love you.”

“Wait, did you mean me..or Jinny?” he asked with a smile, his face wet.

She laughed and kissed him. “You! I love YOU, Sam! I want to marry you!”

“Okay, okay. I just wanted to be sure,” he replied, kissing her back.

“Did you want to tell the group?” Maggie asked, grabbing a shirt from her nightstand.

He put a hand on her arm and then clicked the lamp off.

“Let’s tell them in the morning,” Sam said, trailing kisses down her neck.

THE END

Quote of the Day: Writing comes more easily if you have something to say. ~Sholem Asch