StoryRhyme After Dark: The Purple Isles of Shoals

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"The sunglasses soften her normal, everyday bleak outlook of life on the islands, so does the whiskey sour. In fact Angela plans to have another as soon as she is finished with this one. It is a poor substitute for what’s really bothering her of course, but it’s better than no substitute at all..."

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StoryRhyme After Dark: Westward Ho!

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"Well, we counted out all our money and it came to about fourteen dollars between us and we began to wonder if that was enough to get us out of Brooklyn, let alone out to the purple sage country in Montana. Even Bunco, the brains of the group, began to wonder if we had given enough thought to the financial side of our plan.
 
"We stood on the corner of Ryerson Street and McKibben watching the vegetable trucks from New Jersey roll by. "There's our ace in the hole," Bunco said. "There's the answer! We hitch a ride with them going back to Jersey. They go back empty, see... They'll be glad to give us a lift."
 
"It sounded like a good plan to us. All we had to do was wait for them to dump their load at the vegetable market in Brooklyn and we could be in New Jersey by early afternoon... Half way to Montana..!"

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Zero Sum Game by SL Huang

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"Cas Russell is good at math. Scary good. The vector calculus blazing through her head lets her smash through armed men twice her size and dodge every bullet in a gunfight. She can take any job for the right price and shoot anyone who gets in her way. As far as she knows, she’s the only person around with a superpower . . . but then Cas discovers someone with a power even more dangerous than her own. Someone who can reach directly into people’s minds and twist their brains into Moebius strips. Someone intent on becoming the world’s puppet master."

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StoryRhyme After Dark: The Picture Book

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"Mae Davenport sat at the curb in a folding chair with a camera in her lap every sunny afternoon watching life go by on Maple Street. This was her home town and, if she ever had to leave it, she wanted to remember it – forever…"

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Our Dog Chance

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Our hearts are full. Broken bodies; broken souls. The dog block is in the dog door because there is no dog to go in and out. All day long...

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Being Brave(r)

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I’m a worrier, someone who tends to overanalyze things, weighing the risks versus the benefits. This is not a trait that makes me happy. (I don’t always think things through, though. I did jump on Andrew’s skateboard a few months ago, meeting the sidewalk, face first. That was unfortunate). But mostly I’m a thinker. I don’t like this because it limits me, and I have to psyche myself up to do/try new things. After my first bout with cancer, I’d tell myself: If you can get through that, you can do anything. But then I’d forget what I’d been through and have to give myself another pep talk...

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Grappling with Life, and Sadness

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The high school is small, the student body in shock, trying to grasp the death of a friend, their contemporary. I tried to grasp the cruel hand his parents have been dealt. But some things just are not possible to grasp. I looked into the eyes of the teachers and principal and saw the grief. We shared the understanding; no words needed to be spoken...

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I’m Worrying about Worry

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When does a mother (or father) stop worrying about their children? It’s a trick question. The answer is never. We never stop. It’s written in the job description (in invisible ink), and something a parent doesn’t get the full effect of until holding the newborn in their arms for the first time, looking into their eyes and thinking: I am going to love you for the rest of my life. And I will worry about you. My grandmother in her nineties worried about my mother. My mother worries about me. My mother-in-law worries about Steve (and me because that’s how she is)...

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Cancer Update: The State of Me

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At the end of Let Me Get This Off My Chest, I promised that I’d update my blog some day and share my progress. As of yet, I have no nipples; no tattooed-on areolas; my implants are still a little strange. During my last visit with the plastic surgeon, she decided that since the skin on my radiated side was so thin...

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StoryRhyme After Dark: In Eulalia

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"There was the well by the intersection of the only two streets in town. The streets had no names, but one led off to de Santos and the other to Mallorca where they made terrible wine for the tourists. At the well the women gathered in the lazy afternoons and gossiped about this and that…"

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