OUR FAVORITE BEACH THINGS with Jayne

I've invited my fellow To Fetch a Thief authors to share some of their favorite beach things. Today I'm featuring myself!  Here we go . . .

Favorite beach activity: Walking. Nothing better than a barefoot stroll along the shore,  waves sneaking up and tickling your feet and ankles. Birds squawking overhead. Kiddos building castles in the sand. Sunshine on your face and arms. It doesn't get any better than it.

Favorite beach song: Under the Boardwalk. “On a blanket with my baby, that’s where I’ll be!” ’Nuff said.

Favorite beach beverage: Cool, crisp, fruity Sangria!

BEACH TALE: Daylight Savings is NOT for the Dogs

 

From left to right, Scout,
Jayne, Tiller

    Anyone who follows me on Facebook knows we have two new puppies.  Since we got the first one (last May) I have been dreading Daylight Savings time change. Dogs don’t get it! Every morning for the past week my husband and I have discussed what is going to happen on November 4, when the dogs, who eat breakfast at 5 a.m. want to get up at 4 a.m. It is an insane concept that animals (and most people) do not get.

     I had researched the concept (hoping to gain some understanding of the whacky time adjustment) a few years ago and thought this would be a great time to share what I’d learned with my loyal blog readers.

BEACH TALE: A TRUE GHOST STORY

<<note...this story was previously posted on this blog on Halloween, 2011, but it is one of my favorites so I'm dusting it off for a repost today!  For those of you who haven't read it yet, this is a TRUE ghost story from where we used to live, Newport, RI.>>

       

THE TIME…1673

THE PLACE…
A 100 acre farm in Portsmouth, RI (currently the site of The Valley Inn, pictured on the left.)

THE SITUATION…

Thomas Cornell, a farmer aged 46, had a lot of hungry mouths to feed.  He was the father of four sons from his first marriage, two children (with a third on the way) from his second marriage to Sarah, plus his widowed mother Rebecca, age 73.  All nine people lived under one very tiny roof.  And, while Thomas did all the work, Rebecca owned the farm and thus controlled things. 

THE PROBLEM…

There were rumors that not all was well on the Cornell farm.  Reports of elder abuse ran rampant through the small community.  Local legend has it that Rebecca had confided she felt sure she’d be “done away with” by year’s end. 

BEACH WRITING:The Genre Whisperer

EVERYTHING YOU’VE ALWAYS WANTED TO KNOW ABOUT GENRES…But Were Afraid to Ask 

          (Whispered conversation between two young ladies recently overheard in a library bathroom…)
          “Do you know anything about, you know…what they’re talking about in there?”
          “No. I’m pretty inexperience when it comes to that kind of stuff.”
          “Me too.”
          “Is there some sort of book or something that would explain everything?”
          “You mean like an illustrated how-to manual?”
          “Yeah.”
          “Not that I know of. But I’ve heard some of the older girls talking.”
          “And?”
          “I think they’re talking like they know, but they really don’t know.”
          “So how do you learn?”
          “I guess you just learn by doing it…”

          No, these young ladies were not talking about the facts of life. They were aspiring authors attending their first mystery writers’ meeting. Words like genre and sub-genre and novella had been bandied about like bits of gossip dropped at a high-society cocktail party, all followed by a knowing look and responded to with an I’ll-pretend-I-know-what-you’re-talking-about-even-though-I’m-clueless nod. It might surprise you to learn that these two seemingly unrelated topics do have a lot in common.

PRESCRIPTION FOR LOVE: A Short Romance Just in Time for Valentine's Day

<<At one point in my writing career I focused on Romance. here is one of my short stories I dug out of the back of my closet in honor of this day of ROMANCE.>>

         

Maddie wasn’t sure she could take another step.

          “Which grocery store shall we hit tonight?” her sister Kara asked.

          “Huh?”  It was all the response Maddie could muster as they finished the grueling eight-mile run along the beach.  She bent at the waist and rested her elbows on her knees as she sucked in lungfuls of refreshing salt air.

          “I’m thinking the Green Grocer over on West Washington might be good.” Kara, who was in far better shape than Maddie, sounded less like a steam locomotive puffing up a mountain and more like someone who had just finished a game of Wii bowling. 

          Maddie had assumed, erroneously, that joining her sister on an after-work run would replace their usual evening activity of late—man hunting.  Kara had read in a magazine that a good place to meet eligible bachelors was at the grocery store, so the sisters had been cruising a different one every night for the past three weeks.  So far, they hadn’t met a single eligible man.    

          Using the railing to support herself, Kara stretched out her calves.  “It’s right next to that new gym and lots of hungry, freshly showered men will be stopping by to pick up something quick and easy for dinner.  I hear they have the best barbecue in town.  That’s sure to attract my kind of guy.”

          The last thing Maddie wanted tonight was go shopping for a potential life mate, especially the more-brawn-than-brains type that Kara favored.  Maddie was more interested in an intellectual renaissance man.  And no doubt they were all already home preparing a gourmet meal whilesipping a glass of chardonnay and listening to some cool jazz music.