A DAY AT THE BEACH

<<In case you missed this one on our Sand in our Shorts blog...>>

It’s that time of year, you know, beach season. A time to pack up your beach bag and escape to the shore for bit of fun and sun (and in my case, the inevitable sunburn).

Popular activities which can only be enjoyed at the beach include body surfing, boogie boarding, sand-castle building, and fighting off seagulls for the last potato chip on your plate.

As the sun goes down, you repack your bag and head for a local beach dive bar. Popular post-day-at-the-beach drinks include Pina Colada, Mojito, Orange Crush, and the much less popular but certainly appropriate Seagull Wine. Not something I've ever heard of, but I'm picturing a nice pinot gris with a soaring seagull on its label. I could not be more wrong.

WHAT'S YOUR NUMBER?

So, here’s the scenario. While digging through my wallet for my voter ID, I found a gift card. MY LUCKY DAY! Except for it was set to expire at midnight. It must be spent, I said to myself! (I abhor wasting money…especially the free variety!) Off I go to said store and pick up a selection of items which may—or may not—include a bottle of wine. (Okay, those of you who know me well know that it did indeed include a bottle of wine, one from the bottom shelf in keeping with the amount on my gift card.)  My mental math had me estimating my total purchases to be just a skooch over the value of the card, an amount that would easily be covered by the loose change in my pocket. My double lucky day.

I should have read the fine print on the back of the card. In my defense, it was VERY fine print, and it’s not like I carry a magnifying glass around with me.

But the cashier had excellent vision and read it to me: “Not valid for purchase of alcoholic beverages.”

Alllrighty, then.

TO TRICK A THIEF...YOU be the Sleuth

It's summertime, and people are on the road to summer fun. But there's trouble brewing at a small diner on the road to the Outer Banks of North Carolina. Someone is stealing tips! Match your sleuthing skills against waitress Tawny. All the clues are here for you to figure it out. The solution is posted in the comments.  

         “Ya’ll travel safely,” Tawny said, placing the check on the table.  Early June vacationers had been traveling through at a steady stream, heading for the outer banks of North Carolina for their summer beach vacations.  But despite the high turnover at her tables, tips had been disappointingly low.  She’d held off getting new brakes for her car, hoping she’d make enough extra money early in the summer in order to afford them.  At this rate, they’d have to wait another week.  Or two.      

          Loaded down with five plates piled high with pulled pork barbecue sandwiches, fries, coleslaw and fresh from the deep-fryer hushpuppies, she passed the table that had just left and spotted a stack of singles tucked under the salt shaker.  Good.  Maybe her luck was about to change.

KINDA PISSED ABOUT NOT BEING A MERMAID

 

Ran into these kitchen towels while shopping at The Attic at East Beach today and they got me to thinking. I didn’t know I there were opportunities available to actually be a mermaid, but I do live in The Mermaid City (Norfolk, VA—more on that in a bit) and it seems only fitting that should be one. So yeah, I am kinda pissed that I'm not.

As always, everything one needs to know can be found on the Internet, so I did a little research on the topic. 

The term “mermaid” literally translates to Sea-lady (Old-English “mere” meaning sea, and maid—as you may remember from The Twelve Days of Christmas—is a young lady). These mystical half-women/half-fish creatures were often spotted when “Sailing, sailing, o’er the bounding main.” Going back thousands of years, they’ve been incorporated into folklore throughout the world. Christopher Columbus himself reported seeing them when he explored the Caribbean late in the 1400s. (It’s possible he confused a manatee with a mermaid…lord only knows what those sailors drank in those days.) Reports of mermaid sightings continue into the 21^st century. (Again, what are those sailors drinking? They need to share!)

YARD OF THE MONTH

<<Mother Nature is currently teasing us with beautiful weather (for another 24 hours then it's back to winter). Spring Fever grabbed me by the neck and pulled me out into the yard. Three hours of raking and four bags of leaves later, my gardens were ready for their seasonal makeover. As I sat and sipped a glass of (medicinal) wine, I remembered about an article I had published almost a decade ago now. A cautionary tale, about what happens when a girl's dreams of lavish landscaping slam head-on into the reality of making them come true. I figured in the spirit of the changing seasons, I'd share it with you here.>>

My first gardening catalog came addressed to “Robert S. Jones or Current Resident.” That was me--Current Resident. We’d just made our fourth move in two years in conjunction with my husband’s Naval career.  His orders were for twenty-four months. Long enough to plant perennials. Oh, be still my heart!

THE STORY BEHIND THE STORY...

The launching of a new book never gets old. Recently, the 11^th anthology in which I’ve been involved was released, Virginia is for Mysteries, Volume III. My first collaboration was Virginia is for Mysteries, the original. That came out eight years ago (where does the time go!) But our core group of authors had been working together for almost two years prior to that. That adds up to an entire decade. Longer than some marriages I know of. That’s something worth celebrating!

Many of the original authors are included in Volume III but we’ve also added some great new talent. It’s no exaggeration when I say it offers something for everyone. I’m humbled to be in such great company.

My contribution is titled “Sorry, Wrong Number” wherein a peaceful paddle between Chincoteague and Assateague Islands turns into a disturbing adventure when Margaret Gunderson and Carolyn Prewitt discover a dead man floating in the channel.

There is a story behind this story...

WARM HANDS, COLD HEART, a Short Romance by Jayne

<<In the beginning of my writing career, I put all my creative energy into writing romance. I soon realized keeping two desperately in love people at odds for 300-plus pages lacked the conflict of, say, stumbling over a dead body. Hence, I turned my talents to penning cozies. But I did enjoy a modicum of success with short romances. So in anticipation of Valentine's Day on Monday, here is one of my favorites. I hope it warms your heart!>>

Caitlyn wrapped her hands around a mug of steamy coffee, inhaling the fragrant aroma of roasted Arabica beans. She absolutely loved the smell of fresh brewed coffee, but detested the taste. The only reason she’d brewed a cup was to have something on which to warm her hands. She had never been so cold in her entire life.

Having been born and raised in sunny southern California, she was suffering her first winter on the desolate prairies of Nebraska. The job offer had been too good to pass up, and being two-thousand miles away from Derek, that cheating skunk of an ex-fiancé, was an added bonus. But she hadn’t realized how brutal winter could be until the first blizzard of the season hit and the furnace conked out.