My oh My, Who Are You, When I'm Not Looking

 I will start this morning by begging for forgiveness because my tone is full of sarcasm. It's been a week. I am cold this morning and have not quite had 2 full cups of coffee. The grass needs to be tackled today, and my order of goats to do the job has not arrived! I am tired. The kind of tired where my mind mentally can not come up with any more ideas on how to add pecos to the denairos! It is frustrating. This week alone, I have had to play, "WHAT'S WRONG WITH THIS NEW-ER CAR NOW?" My patience has run so thin on this, and the dealership is sick of me and my not-so-humorous side. Have I ever stated that car maintenance and the mechanics on how one vehicle should function are not IN MY CONTRACT? Nowhere do I remember putting this clause in my Akashic record. Bushings, bearings, CV joints, motor and transmission mounts, broken axles, and oxygen sensors WTF!!! Seriously? You thought I was smart before, wait till you see me with the hood up on this shiny con-trap-tion! Other car news~the old vehicle gets removed and retired next week. For the life of me, I could not find the title or the lien release, so new ones had to be filed for replacements. It's all been too much, TOO MUCH!

I figured since my voice has gone silent on social media, my stalkers and creepers (and the crone) are needing something to feed off. (Cheshire grin) I sit here in my llama jammie pants with my pink hoodie on, typing away to give fodder to their fuel. Snarls and smirks are what I plan to deliver! So please sit back, let me grab that 3rd cup of coffee, and let me dish to you what you think you need to know. Because, of course, living vicariously through someone else always is more fun than paying attention to your own life (mess) {wink wink}

Yesterday morning, before work, I touched up my roots. I am not ready to go gray yet! Probably never will either. The extra blonde highlights will come later this week. Can't have that gray nonsense when I am still striving for customer appeal. In order to play the game and be in the public eye, one has to remain youthful-looking to match a personality some would kill for! While I have been tidying up a few later chapters on "When He Had Her," and building "Seaside Shore,"  The restaurant pivot still exists and is in progress (for now), building a new customer base. Yesterday, a few of my old customers, the Corvette Club, gathered and dined for lunch. I waited on the bunch at the last gig! It was very nice to see these retirees and catch up on where their fancy cars have been. These guys mostly all retired, more money than who knows, with wives they have been married to since the Nile was a creek. old men and their humor, it cracks me up! They think they still have it! I laugh and just do my thing... crack them up with my sarcasm! Ah gets-em every time!

I am on day 5 of the gig. I will dress up and be the hostess with the mostess tonight and back on the floor tomorrow night, finishing up the Mother's Day madness. With my daughter's 4 kids in tow and the oldest working 3 jobs, I will catch up to them at some point over the next few weeks. The one grandson is having a birthday on the 19th of this month! Let me brag while I've got your attention! The oldest has garnered the accolades of the physical therapy department at Mercy. With all of his medical, nutrition, and massage therapy certs under his belt, they were all too happy to bring him on to add to their other qualified and educated staff! And that daughter of mine surpassed all the intern applicants, and the superintendents were so impressed with her attention to detail & teaching abilities, and now a graduate with her master's, proudly they hired her and added her to one of the most prestigious schools in the Chesterfield district, she was named the new Assistant Principal! That one will change the education system and give it a makeover they never knew they needed! And my youngest, I give him props in his self-made progression, learning construction skills by day and still flipping pizzas at night. It is this one who will become a millionaire. He works around the clock and is driven by the almighty dollar. He is young! Go get 'em, kid! He and I pass each other daily, going to and from work. Most of those conversations, ME: "Are you ok? Did you let the dogs out? Or did you feed the dogs? I am making this for dinner______" Him, "yeahhhhh, no, ok" and he is off. I laugh! What more can any mother expect from a 24-year-old?

What else? My princess pony is doing as well as to be expected. The gray has now found its way around her eyes. She still has some giddy up and happily, she will run with me, she knows my cues, and I never have to say a thing. I start to run, and she obliges next to me till she knows she can outrun me. She gets ahead and stops and looks back as if to say, "Are you coming or what?" What's funnier is that I will let her get ahead, and  I will come to a full stop to see if she is paying attention. She knows I have treats! She drops her head, licks her lips, and turns around to say, "I know this game." She then follows me like one very large 1000lb puppy. Gawd, I love that girl! If my schedule ever slows down, I need to tack her up and get to riding. Into the sunset that is! (sigh sigh smile)

I plan on getting to the cemetery this week to visit my dad. The second book I am working on has a few well-tribute homages to him. He was Dad despite his nonsense. I am sure that is where I get my sarcastic humor. Although he never found my humor funny. I'd like to say, I'll get back up to Calvary to see Mom and Gram, but I don't know how or when. I have absolutely no business traveling in that neck of the woods by myself. I'll figure it out. I always do!

What book do you want a snippet from? Seaside Shore or When He Had Her? How bout both ;)

Seaside Shore:

The engine hummed beneath her, the steady rhythm of the tires on the highway acting like a metronome to her thoughts. Jess had always found long drives therapeutic in a way—mile markers like emotional checkpoints, every rest stop another memory rising to the surface. Bangor to the Outer Banks wasn’t just a drive. It was a quiet reckoning.

It would take her down I-78 to I-81 South, then hours along US-64, cutting through Virginia’s edge and deeper into the heart of North Carolina. Roughly 500 miles of introspection. Eight hours if she didn’t stop. But she would. She’d need gas. Maybe a coffee. Definitely a moment or two to pull over and breathe.

She glanced over at Pickles, his ears twitching in his sleep on the passenger seat. Even the cat seemed to understand this wasn’t just a move—it was a pilgrimage of sorts. A journey back to the legacy of a man who raised her with calloused hands and a voice like sandpaper and gruff.

Her father, R.E., never went by his full name. Said it didn’t matter what you were called—what mattered was what you did. He was an Army man, but his heart belonged to the sea. A contradiction he carried proudly, like the sun-bleached cap he wore with the letters and a number "E-4" stitched in faded thread. He used to say, “The difference between an Army man and a Navy man is simple. One learns to stand his ground, the other learns to float.”

She could hear his gravelly chuckle even now. He told that story a hundred times. She laughed at everyone. Not because the joke was good—but because he loved telling it.

She’d been a daddy’s girl, the oldest, the headstrong one. The one who stayed when others left. Her sister couldn’t handle the hard parts—never could. Not the caregiving, not the decisions, not the silence between the final breaths. So Jess had carried it all: the hospice papers, the arrangements, the folded flag, the last goodbyes.

Watching R.E. die was like standing on the shoreline, helpless as the tide stole the man who once felt bigger than the ocean itself. He was gone quickly, but not quietly. And the grief wasn’t clean. It clung. It blistered. Still, she made sure his casket was draped just right. That the preacher didn’t drone. That his old combat boots were placed beneath the coffin like he was stepping out one last time.

Then came the year in Bangor. One long, unspoken countdown as she closed her store, tied up loose ends, and tried to live in a world that no longer included him. Her boutique, her friends, her routines—all started to feel like noise drowning out something deeper.

It wasn’t obligation that drove her back to his rundown resort. It was legacy. And maybe a little unfinished business. The place might be falling apart, but so was she in ways no one could see. And maybe, just maybe, fixing up what he left behind would stitch something in her, too.

She adjusted the rearview mirror. Behind her, Bangor faded into the distance. Ahead, salt air and the cry of gulls waited.

She didn’t know what she'd find at the shore. But she knew one thing:

She wasn’t driving toward a new life.
She was driving home.

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When He Had Her:

The bar reeked of sweat, spilled bourbon, and desperation masked in cologne. Kate slid onto the cracked vinyl stool two down from him—close enough to catch his slur, far enough to keep him guessing.

Hank was mid-laugh, a loud, obnoxious thing that stumbled out of his throat like a man who’d long lost the taste for subtlety. His eyes were glassy, pupils slow to react. He didn’t notice her at first. He was too busy holding court with a couple of over-tanned meatheads and a bleach-blonde with lips like overinflated tires.

Kate flagged the bartender with two fingers. White wine, a few cubes. House brand, no time for fancy.

She turned just slightly, the line of her shoulders casual, but the mic buried in her bra picked up every breath.

“You always hold court like this?” she asked, tossing the question like a grenade into his circle.

Hank turned, blinking almost in shock. It took him a beat too long to recognize her. When he did, a smug grin crawled up his face.

“Well, well, if it ain’t Kate the Great. You come to apologize, sweetheart?”

“Something like that,” she said, her voice flat. Knowing she was wired and waiting for the slip. His admission of guilt. His projecting words~flip it, blame it on someone else, and lie through his alcohol saturated teeth.

She took him in—his t-shirt dirty,  cheap gold chain that had a nautical charm attached, clinging to his chest, the sweat beading on his forehead though the bar was freezing. His pupils jittered now. Booze and panic—a perfect storm.

“You celebrating something, Hank?”

He leaned in, breath soaked in liquor. “Every day’s a celebration when you know how to win.”

“Oh yeah? Business booming?”

He barked a laugh. “Booming? Honey, I’m practically running the grid. Hell, some folks’d go dark without me. Big accounts, city contracts—you know how it is. Gotta grease the right palms.”

Kate’s eyes flicked. Got him.

“Sounds risky. All that wiring. So easy for things to, I dunno… spark out.”

He waved her off with a floppy hand. “Please. I’ve got it wired tighter than Fort Knox. I mean—” He caught himself. Blinked. Coughed. “You know, just an expression.”

“Mmm.” She sipped. “So where’d you stash the overflow, Hank? Overseas, someone else's account, or are you old school—mattress man?” The implication, saying more about his personal behavior than his yield of dollars.

His face twitched. “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”

“But you always said a man needed a backup plan. In case the feds started sniffing.” someone or something always in the wings... Ya know that back-up plan. She giggled a little too happy and gave that fuck you look.

He laughed, too loud, too long. “Feds? They don’t sniff where they’re fed, baby.”

Kate's tone dropped to velvet razors. “Unless someone rats. You always said rats can’t resist cheese. Or a plea deal.” You don't shit where you eat? right?

Hank went pale for a half-second, then masked it with bravado. “Ain’t nobody flipping on me. I built this whole operation. I fed ‘em. Paid ‘em. Hell, half of ‘em are still suckin’ at the tit.”

“Sure. But the milk’s running dry, isn’t it?”

His jaw clenched. He reached for his beer bottle, but his hand shook.

Kate stood, slow and deliberate, letting her stare pierce him.

“Good seeing you, Hank. Try not to trip on your own wiring.”

She walked out, and behind her, his world began to burn.

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Yeah, my sarcasm is thick this morning! Well, my goats didn't arrive, but the lawn guy I hired a few weeks back just showed up! Praise Jesus! One less grass blade I need to trim. It just freed up some time to continue on this plot twist of stories.

Oh, us girls, so into ourselves~ Full of humor, sarcasm, and intentional talent!

Fate Turns on Dime... What side of that coin are you on?

Kitryn Marie

#writer #madeformovies