It’s been hotter than Satan’s butthole the last few days. Maine doesn’t normally experience hot summers so the homes here are built without AC. And boy did we wish we had that ugly, yet glorious unit humming away outside. Instead, we had fans. Lots of them and we still had sweat rolling down our backs.Continue reading “Copyright Free Photos”
Yesterday was the Strawberry supermoon, and like clockwork, my mind was bouncing from one problem to another, causing a panic attack. The reality of our new fixer-upper in Coastal Maine and the cost of its repairs hit me and hit me hard. Before, when I dreamed of our place, I saw this grand vision forContinue reading “Our Fixer-upper, the Moon and the Solution”
There is such a place as fairyland – but only children can find the way to it. And they do not know that it is fairyland until they have grown so old that they forget the way. One bitter day, when they seek it and cannot find it, they realize what they have lost; andContinue reading “There is such a place as fairyland…”
By Melanie S. Wolfe Four siblings, wearing all black, stood in the very kitchen they grew up in and stared at all the food dishes wrapped in plastic. The last guest had left, and it was the first time they were alone together since the dreaded call. Jennifer, the oldest, took a sip out ofContinue reading “The TikTok Angel”
Today, in Blue Hill, Maine, I woke up to the glorious sight of fog. I love fog. Maybe because I grew up in a place that didn’t experience much of it and I rarely got to see it, and maybe, it’s because fog reminds me of navigating life. When you think about it, moving throughContinue reading “Navigating The Fog of Life”
I am pretty sure there is some weird thing going on with the current zeitgeist because it seems a lot of us have lost our wits as of late. Maybe it’s this thing they call Covid-fog, or maybe, we are done with societies rules and just ready to jump off a cliff, arms wide openContinue reading “We Bought a House on the Internet; Here’s the Good, the Bad and the Ugly”
By the advice of several worthy persons, to whom, with the author’s permission, I communicated these papers, I now venture to send them into the world, hoping they may be, at least for some time, a better entertainment than the common scribbles about politics and party.
Bronte Wilson sat on the passenger side and thought of the cheerful line from the famous Oklahoma song as she stared out at the wasteland before her. Where the wind comes sweeping through the plains. The wind sounded so much more delightful in the fun, perky song than in reality. In real life, the wind sweeping through the plains was about as comforting as a tornado joyously hopping over one’s home.
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