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Telling Tales and Whispering Secrets 

A bit of fantasy alongside the current human condition

Perception | Point of View

Buildings face buildings some with roadway in between. Levels upon levels they live in cities. Connection, the spirit of urban life where everything resonates with the pace. Food truly tastes flavorful, lives live round the clock, bookstores remain open throughout the night serving delicious coffee, performance and the arts thrive from small intimate particular venues to large productions and museums, material goods available for every whim be it dirt cheap to haute to bespoke.


In her cozy little bedroom, Persephone relaxes. The 3rd floor Victorian apartment she shares with another Arizona transplant has a corner view. The sounds of The City hum through the original window. She loves the tone resonating with ebbs and flows of traffic, the corner market below, the train. Tis night time the lights reflective of vibrations.


Perce sighs as she sinks deeper into her lounge chair and book: Maupin's Tales of the City. Below a bit of a row starts out in front of the Egyptian owned grocery that has the best falafel and tahini in Upper Haight.


Perce jumps from her chair shouting for her roommate, "You hear this Adrienne?!"


They meet in the living room smile and nod. Kneeling in front of their window, their lights remain off. The ruckus below doesn't interest, it's the world of the windows before them that does. Lights flip on peppering the red brick building across from them with yellow. Each rectangle is occupied by at least one tenant, often two and every once in a while several heads squeeze in to witness the ballyhoo below.


Perce looks to her friend A. "Most likely someone liberating a candy bar again."


A's nodding looking out the window. "He'll tell us all about it tomorrow I'm sure."


"Wanna bet it's a Snickers? It's always that big-a$$ Snickers bar." Perce's laughing shaking her head.


"Oh here we go!" A's eyes forward, silent play begins.


Perce narrates short acts before them. More than fifteen windows have accepted the call and are goose necking watching mayhem below. She creates stories from lives illuminated in the darkness. Some are continuations from past opportunities, other yarns are brand new.


Adrienne stares out the window listening to the tales from within their apartment eyes on the actors across the street.


End scene.

It's Saturday night and Perce has Sunday off. Just awoken from the nap everyone takes between work and going out, she's famished. It's early, 9pm, so she decides to get ready with the intention of talking her roommate into dinner before the show. A performance art venue Lower Haight, topic body art: piercings and tattoos.


"I definitely need to eat before we go." Empathy pains course through Perce's body.


"When are you going to get yours P?" Adrienne having been persuaded to eat out is grabbing her coat and purse. A gorgeous silhouette dressed in an authentic paper dress from the 60s. Glitter platforms clunk along the wooden floor toward the door.


"I'm still deciding…" Perce has no intention and is riding on the drawing A created for her to keep people at bay a bit longer. "I love the design. How much did you say a simple armband would hurt?" Perce has her black coat on over her black skirt, white silk shirt and black waistcoat.


"You're not going to do it." A's laughing. "Just admit it."


A fortuitous noise gets their attention urging Perce to return down the hallway to the living room window. This time the other corner where a dude lives in the turret of a Victorian across the way.


Adrienne follows right behind. "Beastie boy?" she's smiling.


"Yep!" Coat still on P kneels before the window watching the dance madness coming from the illuminated curved glass windows.


Adrienne turns on the music. Groovin' to Brass Monkey, the girls are mesmerized by the fact that this guy dances so well and always to the Beastie Boys vibe.


End scene.

"The party is going to be chill." Toi is doing her best to talk Perce into coming along. "It's my place, two other roommates. Easy."


"Easy how? You live with the Primus bloke. And the other is an architect?" Perce loves people, but can be shy when the situation has unknown dynamics.


"Just come. Rebecca will go with you. Of course, I'll meet you there." Toi's attempting to make light P's reticence.


Perce caves in. "Okay, okay! If you'll stop talking about it." 


Rebel and Persephone arrive. Both looking at each other with brows raised, the architect's digs are really nice.


"I'm not surprised." P laughs. "It is Liberty Hill." She continues. "Besides a low key night out in a beautiful Victorian?"


"You sound nervous." Rebecca laughs and rings the doorbell.


Toi answers drink in hand. "Hey you made it!" Taking them straight to the catered bar. "What'll you have?"


Rebecca asks for her Belvedere Martini. Noticing everyone seems to be holding stemmed glasses, Perce requests a Gimlet with Tequila in lieu of Gin. Once armed with their libations, they circle the rooms looking for Toi.


At last, they spot her black dreads with vibrant fuchsia streaks in the darkest room of the house, a den of sorts. Rebecca strolls in not giving Perce an opportunity to make excuses. P stumbles over someone's jacket as she focuses on Toi and the empty pillow beside her on the floor.


Perce stops before the cushion. Everyone sitting on the floor looks to her with mock patience. She smiles balances her drink while gracefully sitting folding her legs under her.


Looking to Rebecca and Toi, she sees they're watching the large steel globe on casters pinball its way around the room. Perce panics. "This is some sort of game." She realizes.


The ball is pushed from one individual in the room to another. Once it arrives in your space, you are to utter something interesting or profound. Nods and sometimes Oohs and Ahhs are heard.


"Geez! Like 17th French court where your quick wit allowed you access to those that held the power. These people are good and have obviously played before." Perce whispers to herself definitely not enjoying the game.


The metal sphere comes horrifyingly close to Perce a couple of times. Geometry tells her, she would eventually be on the bubble.


Quick to problem solve, P downs her drink and then pretends to spill on her skirt. It is so dark no one knows otherwise. Up in a flash, she makes her apologies and heads for the well-lit kitchen, a stop by the bar on the way.


Landing in her comfort zone, Perce relaxes into the conversation going on. A chill vibe tribe that has convened in the area that was clearly not meant for guests. In a room with strangers does not matter as she feels they are all in the same place energetically.


Over to the sink for a bit of water, P notices that the window over the kitchen faces a large building with about a half dozen windows illuminated. Taking a seat on the counter, she begins to breathe life into the silent happenings before her. A few lean over the sink to listen and observe.


Today is special day where we're celebrating my Patrons on Patreon.


I'm in much gratitude today. A special THANK YOU to my Patrons on Patreon. I appreciate your participation. I'm so pleased you love the stories I create for you there. I'm thankful that you feel a part as you reply with such heart. You're the best. Thank you.💚


More San Francisco adventures tomorrow. See you soon.


Cheers and best,



Telling Tales | Whispering Secrets

Day 19 of 365 Orbit



Chere is creating fiction for her Patrons on Patreon

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Transitions | Flocks


They've been friends for decades and funny enough when one moves to another locale, the other inevitability does as well. Perse was leaving Seattle and the funeral industry heading to art school ASU Tempe, AZ. Violet was not far behind.


Violet loves the sun but prefers the shine diffused though sheers of a large window. Persephone can do without the sun and misses Seattle's clouds and moist cityscape creating such vivid colors. The fresh air, she breathes easily, loves cozy layers of clothing and her hair looks great in humidity. Seattle was a bit too wet for Violet.


Perse loves to stroll. To be out and about as she discovers what's unique while observing the human condition. She enjoys people and the diversity of it all. Violet tends to be a home body, she rarely adventures out.


As Perse has made her way from Tempe to Indy to Las Vegas to Vincennes to Las Vegas to Flagstaff, Violet inevitably end up in the same town. The two of them hanging out for almost 24 years now.



Adrienne and I are sitting in her Karmann Ghia. We've just left Crash where we watched a dude wrapped like a worm inch his way around a spiral, ever so slowly. It was fascinating to consider and so unlikely that we watched for a good twenty minutes until we had to make our way to the small circus tent that housed the Honey Buckets. That took another twenty minutes. The worm was about 2/3rd's of the way round by then.


Deciding we knew how that story would end, we headed for another stage this performance artist was reciting poetry. From outside the venue, she was clear and thought provoking so we stepped in. We cruised back out as the poetry was coupled with shoving vegetables in places we didn't think they needed to be.


That's what brought us to this space in her small VW, we decided it was time for a change. We made a pact, in three months we would move to San Francisco, Chicago or New York. Time flew by, I was transferring with Buffalo Exchange to manage their Haight St location, well asst. manage actually. 'A' had caught a nice gig in Oakland just across the bay. We'd found a nice Victorian apartment just across from Kezar Stadium in The Park. Top floor corner view.


Perse decides she'd like to check out a vintage ribbon shop in SOMA and what do you know, she runs into Jay.


"Wow. You visiting The City?" Perse is so pleased to see this awesome individual.


"No, I moved here."


And they make plans to hang out.



Jay and Persephone find themselves at Hotel Utah to see P's acapella band neighbors across the hall. All shaved heads and earrings, the dichotomy is an engaging thing.


Perse elbows Jay whose response is a 'what gives?' his brows furrowed. She nods toward the bar. Jay holds up his glass and points to mine ordering another round.


"No! Though thank you yeah." Perse acknowledges the drink order then continues. "There's Jackie."


Jay laughs and starts waving Jackie over. They all meet in the middle.


Perse is the first to ask, "When did you get in town?"


"I've been here for about two weeks." Jackie is smiling.


Jay gives her another hug. "You moved here didn't you." He turns to Perse raising his brows.

"I did…" Jackie is looking at the two of them that appear to have a secret.


Perce explains, "We just ran into each other last week. I've been here about three months and Jay just about the same."


The Genuine Diamelles begin their set with The Nutmeg's "Hello."


"I love doo-wop!" Perce flashes a smile toward her neighbor, Smelly, on stage.


The original pair becomes a group as Jackie and her friends head to the large booth Perce had reserved.



Walking to the bakery on Haight, Persephone has her hands in her pockets ascertaining what her cash might get her. Pleased standing in line, Perce is tapped on the shoulder.


"Hey!" Smile like the cat that caught the canary, Amy has her hands behind her twisting side to side.


"What?! Hi!" They hug and dance about laughing.


"I live here!" Amy's celebrating.


"I know." Perce smiles.


Amy's response confused, but quickly dismissed as she grabs this dude that looks just like young Elvis. "This is Terry."


"I see why you moved." Perce is smiling laughing. "Nice to meet you." She reaches out her hand.


Terry moves in a way that tells P, Terry is a dudette.


"Cool." Perce smiles at them both as they all head to the counter for French pastries and espresso.



Four individuals. All from Tempe. Move separately within a year to San Francisco.



Have you ever experienced transition where you find several individuals within your sphere are in the same vibe? They say six degrees of Kevin Bacon. At times, it's one degree. Love that synchronicity!



See you tomorrow.


Cheers and best,


Ps- I'm looking at Violet right now as I write this blog. She's resting in a ceramic pot I threw for her. Right a top of my bistro table. We made an agreement when I first brought her home. I take care of you and you take care of me, interdependence. #africanvioletplants


Telling Tales | Whispering Secrets

Day 18 of 365 Orbit



Chere is creating fiction for her beautiful Patrons on Patreon



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Frequency | Resonance


"Wow… this is just odd." She considers to herself upon waking after an evening of nosh and libation with friends. "Why are people responding to me in this manner?" Eyes to the sky in wonder. "We're all friends, yeah? They seemed perturbed by my part of the conversation. It's the regular stuff. I didn't throw any curve balls." 


She leaves the room heading to the kitchen making her way to the walk-in grabbing a sweater. The door's ajar. Taking her sweater off the hook behind the door, she turns closing the door. It won't shut. Pressing it closed several more times, she realizes it's really out of place. 


Curious and a bit annoyed, she inspects the door looking closely at the edges. There's no obstruction; however, the door is too big for the frame. Looking up, she notices there is a large crack crawling from the door's corner to the ceiling. 


Confused, deciding a bit of coffee is more crucial, she takes steps to the coffee service cart in her snug apartment's small living room. The red light is on, she hears the water begin to drip through her Bona Vita. French roast, rubusto beans, dark very dark. 


Sitting at her bistro table, she looks at the small door. She dislikes it when things don't work. It annoys her until it is fixed properly. 


"Am I going to need to shave the door?" She can't imagine looking at the clean white wooden door with its modern silver handle. Standing pouring a cuppa of her rich dark brew, she takes in the aroma. Smells so good. The perfect temp.


Walking past the bathroom, she spies a huge gaping crack in the wall next to the mirror. Holding her hot cup by her fingertips with both hands, she sips and stares at the fissure imagining putty and paint. Shaking her head, she makes her way to her computer to check out the morning's research articles.


With a squint she cocks her head to the side further inspecting the crack above the coat closet. "Nothing. I got nothing." She says out loud laughing at the strangeness of it all. 



Out and about, she decides to stop by one of her favorite haunts for some Gunpowder green tea. Making eye contact with a friend, she engages in conversation about the upcoming show. 


"Aren't you writing?" her friend asks sipping on a foamy capu eyes on Persephone obviously curious about her response. 


"Yeah. Pretty much. However, I have this Goddess series dark vivid colorful. I think people may enjoy it or find it interesting. It ties in with my fantasy writing a bit so it might be a good opportunity for me to talk about my novel." 


Foam on her upper lip. "Do you have something new coming out?" 


"What? I'm talking about The Nine Trilogy." Now Perce's totally confused and begins to look about wondering if there's cracks in the walls here as well. 


"It's been out for so long. Are you doing a second printing?" Cappuccino cup now suspended before her. 


Persephone slowly inquires. "Say… when is the winter show?"


"The 13th of course." 


"I gotta go." Persephone places bills on the bar, nods to the barista and grabs her coat. She waves half way out the door. 


Her friend's mouth is open. Staring, her hand suspended in the air. 



Back at home she fires up the Alienware impatient that it takes a mere moment. In such a hurry, Perse enters the password incorrectly three times before Windows surfaces. 


In Chrome she searches Duck Duck Go for day, date, time… Everything looks normal. 


"Got it!" she says out loud going for her email. Sure enough nothing is making sense. 


"Dammit!" She shouts, I've jumped timelines again.


Realizing frequency and consciousness are related, she focuses on the matter about her. "Just why am I aligning with this timeline?" 


Deciding it's best to pause, go within and seek the portal back to her timeline, Persephone rests on the couch and feels. 


The story of her recent days flow before her as she pays close attention to her feeling body with each response she's had these past several days. She notices that during meditation, she's been remaining in her head. 


"That can't be it." she sits up feet to the floor ready to pace. "Wait…." She lays back down going a bit further back. 


"There tis." She smiles capturing the energy spewed her way by an individual that was in their own form of discord. Continuing the movie, she sees her reaction in lieu of response. "Gotcha!" 


Diving deeper, Perse swims in the depths harvesting energy threads not her own. Taking the golden strands, she asks her people to support her as she returns them in the exact condition they were received. Next, she calls her energy back to her. Every pulse that was exchanged in that moment. "Whew! This was such a big transaction." 


Slowly she senses herself being brought in. The familiar feelings finding their places. She thanks her energetic tribe for the assistance and begins to emit the frequency of consciousness that will take her back to her timeline. 


Patiently, she's in repose until every bit of her being finds its place oscillating in time with her space. It takes her a moment to find presence. Slowly rising, she walks to the closet. The door closes with ease; the huge crack no longer. 


Smiling. she does a little dance. 


In dreams. 



Do you have memorable dreams? Are they a bit dark with Mercury retrograde in Scorpio right now?



And tomorrow.


Cheers and best,



Telling Tales | Whispering Secrets

Day 17 of 365 Orbit

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Clarity | Outdoors

As I step outside, the brisk air from last night's mid-twenties meets the high altitude sun of midday. "And that's why we are a ski town." I muse my eyes the direction of Snowbowl nestled in the mountains north of town.


Still awaiting our mountain town winter.


The street ascends as I make my way to the woods at the end knowing straight up through the dense forest is the observatory where stars seen astronomically meets my affinity for astrology. I always use my app when there so that I can synchronize the Hellenistic era born view of the stars with the charts described before me in today's sky. My neck back toward the atmosphere just as I am right now.


Smiling, as I do during those night time tours a top the mountain. In lieu of the park, I venture on the path of soil blanketed with the season's fallen pine needles. My shoes create muffled crunching noises in cadence with slow intentional steps. Pausing crest-side to admire the view, a soaring bird catches my eye. Wing's spread, the bird contrasts with blue skies, lovely. Following the bird, I search for a pattern. Some circling, but nothing surfacing. So I seek out its comrades. Nothing. A solo flight as far as I can ascertain.


It's time to connect with Gaia. I continue down the trail, well just off it a bit, seeking out softer areas where I can safely take off my shoes and commune with the planet. As I am not one to calm without movement, I will be walking about. But first standing for a moment: grounding. My face calm with a gentle smile. Eyes wide open, I absorb the environment in the moment. Breathing, discovering the balance.


Sensations of connection course through my bare feet. The current running upward and throughout. I begin to slowly pace: steady and even. Lifting my feet just enough to pass over the surface without making contact, hovering gliding.


My thoughts same, they pass over as I continue to center focusing on present. It just is - I just am allows my thinking to enter and exit with ease and grace.


As the mental body flows, quiet still breath is in tempo synchronizing with the pulse below. Smell of pine is front and center. (I lose the earthbound scent when running about town sensories unfocused or disconnected.) Pleased, I take in a deep breath and pause, absorbing.


Refreshed, I enjoy the breeze along with the shade from the intense high altitude sun. I am walking again; the bright light peeking through the canopy intermittent in time with the experience.


Singing bowls chime on my phone. The process 30 minutes. The effects lasting.


Returning to my shoes, I inspect them for hitchhikers. Nothing but a couple of pine needles. The distant crunch padded feel replaces my recent footsteps. I make a U-turn heading back to the neighborhood surprised that I rarely spy another when walking through the woods.


The area's cats spy me and walk alongside. The chatty one meowing. The black one calling out every once in a while, almost in response. Finding my door, I squeeze through as the furry ones like to speed in at every opportunity.


Mystical places, wooded areas.



The practice of aligning our body systems with the planet's electromagnetic field. The body electric, we synchronize and heal.




I recently wrote a serial short story for Patrons on my Patreon page. 


The planet's electromagnetic field has risen exposing the Mortuary's other-world. Lilith and Otto experience disturbing magicks.




Where's your go-to? Your backyard, garden, parks, the woods, cemetery perhaps?


See you tomorrow.


Cheers and best,



Telling Tales | Whispering Secrets

Day 16 of 365 Orbit


Ps- if you have any questions, feel free to leave them in the comments. Ask away!



Electromagnetic excerpt

Chere on Patreon


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The Nine Trilogy | Grace


"No Grace, there is no such thing as teleportation, nor will there ever be and don't even get started about Mu. We are energy healers not mages. If you are to become adept, no pun intended," With a laugh her fast friend exclaims, "you have got to land!"


Grace slowly closed her eyes as her well-meaning friends left the coffee shop for their studios and healing centers sending backward smiles to the beautiful woman they left behind. Grace began to descend for there was no limit to her belief in possibility. She had to know.


In that space Emmajean gently swam in the depths of the non-linear world watching Grace connect and pause as if Emmajean was a dolphin she was watching play in an aquarium. Then Grace returned knowing she had made progress.

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Talent | Remuneration


"Say… you're really good at that." She tells her boss and friend.


"Whatever." Her boss responds laughing continuing the task of creating a dynamic window display.


"No. I mean it. You could really make some money doing it for people 'round town. You should do it!" She tells the indie record store owner.


"So you're telling me if I'm good at sex, I should be a call girl?" The store owner gets down from the ladder standing back to appreciate her work.


"Nah… I guess not." She mumbles smiling at her boss her attention already back on the engaging display.


Inspired by the John Hughes' classic movie "Pretty in pink"



The arrangements were complete. The family on to the church to finalize the funeral with their Priest.


"Thank you Sweetie." You did such a good job, the elderly widow smiles grief in her eyes.


"You are welcome." She says. "I will see you this afternoon when you bring in your husbands clothing, don't forget his undergarments and socks. Okay?"


"I wan't to thank you for the list, this is really helpful…." The widow pauses. "May I ask you a question?"


"Certainly, I am here to help." The funeral director replies.


"You're such a pretty girl. Why would you do this? Surely, there's a man out there that'd take care of you. Don't you want children?"


The funeral director smiles. "I understand your question. I'm where I should be for now, but thank you for your concern. See you this afternoon?"


The widow's tired smile emerges again she touches the funeral director's forearm, "See you then. Come on everyone, let's go see Father Price."


Vignette of a young woman, 1990's



"You're a trainer. You're a teacher. You're an educator." She's told.


"Hmm…" She replies. "I do enjoy the students providing knowledge and tools in entertaining environments so that they can soar. I like developing systems and engaging curriculum based on neuro research in learning. The world of academia as well as the corporate world is a comfortable place for me to work in…"


"See? That's what I'm talking about." She's being encouraged


"Do I love it? No, not quite." She responds shaking her head.


"Just how do you know that? After everything you've just explained?"


With pause her eyes go to the sky as she considers how one truly ascertains their passions and loves. "For me, number one is 'Know Thyself.' You really need to be in touch with your emotional compass: awareness. Next I'd say, feel the affinity. Are you just interested or is it something you dream and think about a lot? Lastly, is it easy to get to or is it a chore. If there's reticence, then it may not be a passion." There, that's off the cuff, but I'm going with it for now she thinks.


"I gotcha. So what is your passion?" She's asked


"That's easy. I love to write fiction as well as essay. The realms of fantasy and sci-fi are my playgrounds as I integrate fringe science, ancient esoteric systems and magicks alongside the human condition." It comes to her as she's in the flow and continues. "You know, I'm often asked if I have a goal each day: words or time. I respond, I can write all day. I usually have to stop to take care of other things."


"Yeah? Go on." She's encouraged to explain.


"To me that's a good sign that you are doing what you are meant to do. I hope to inspire, illuminate and entertain just as I have been by my favorite authors." She's feeling the feels smiling. She explains further. "My hope is that the tales connect with readers in a way that they befriend characters embody and play with the stories.   And of course, who does not love magick, gods and villains?"


"Yeah, I agree." A wink at the author. "So you've had more than one career?"


"I have. All in right timing. It's been a multipath trajectory as I was:

Meant to serve in the funeral industry,

Meant to develop and train in the corporate world,

Meant to create in the fine art world: photography and drawing,

Meant to teach in academia: English, art and funeral service education;

And now, I am meant to write.


The transition from service, training, creating and teaching to writing full time: entertaining, inspiring, illuminating, connecting.




To me, in the western world, much of our waking hours are somehow connected to what we do for a living. Why not make it part of our journey and something we can feel a deeper connection to. 


What are your passions?




Looking forward to seeing you tomorrow.


Cheers and best,



Telling Tales | Whispering Secrets

Day 14 of 365 Orbit



The Nine Trilogy, bk 1

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Dark Waters | Still Cottage


The Ballard Locks left behind cool Guinness in hand, I bask in the achievement of having successfully skippered my way through the large Chittenden Locks. I had done my part. Smiling I turn to the Captain that navigates the boat as if it were a simple video game. With such ease and grace, the boat responds.


Making my way out of the salon, I take the ladder to the flying deck. From atop, the sea waters salinity creates patterns that move with a viscous quality. I watch for something to land so that I can be told it is not the case. My eyes move skyward in search of a winged creature.


"Surely there's a gull." I'm considering making a 360 inquiry. Clear blue skies for now.


The Captain's head emerges from the edge of the high deck. A large round plate rises and lands followed by two icy Scots Ales. He completes his ascent grabbing the nosh and libation as he stands tall.


I slide over so that he's at the helm. While I'm setting cloth napkins with blue anchors and the platter of pate, cheese, meats and baguette in front of us, he cracks open the ales. I pop a square of Muenster in my mouth smiling gratitude. We clink our beers and dig in. My feet up, we just be. West Seattle is ahead mostly deep blue undulating water with bits of flotsam from logging endeavors ahead.

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Golden Lasso | Locking Through


It's unnerving to witness the Captain navigate the small Lake Union harbor's berth. A larger boat, the slip snug. The day is filled with promise as we are heading to the Sound. This time, in the 28 foot Egg Harbor.


The small Chris-Craft was a nauseating experience. The more than enough sea spray not my idea of pleasure either. I am assured that I'll have no problem. As a preemptive, I noshed on baguette and cheese just before heading to the dock.


Successfully disengaged from the mooring area, we cruise toward Ballard locks. I consider a Guinness then think better of it.


The Captain indicates he needs my assistance going through the locks. I'm a bit unsettled by this news for I've been one of the many spectators watching floating vessels make their way through the trough. At that time, witnessing challenges improved the entertainment value. I am hoping to fly under the radar.


"I'm not so sure I'm your Skipper when it comes to navigating the lock." I'm expressing my reticence mentally working on an alternative plan at the same time. Panic begins to surface, I do want to see the old cottage on Vashon, but the price seems a bit high right now.

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Nuptials | Hair of the Dog


The wedding has a lot of moving parts. It begins at the house just outside of DC. An intimate affair, there few people at the ceremony. Standing in front of the fireplace, Persephone reconsiders her all black attire. Looking over to her brother who decided on black as well with his sharkskin suit, she concludes they match and lets it go.


It's a speedy ritual so the siblings head to the kitchen for a bit of bubbly.


"Come on! Reservations are at 8." The groom has a bottle in his hand encouraging the pair to head to the limo.


They toast, "Down the hatch to the smashing match!" Laugh, and empty their glasses heading for the transpo.


It's a bit of a drive so there's libation and nosh. The couple is giddy. Persephone thinks a bit too happy already as this is a marathon not a sprint. Her brother sees her eyes on the bride and groom nodding in accord. Arrival at the posh restaurant in DC.


Still pacing, the two decide to have a glass of Champagne with the intro. The servers continue to pour, both their glasses remain full no matter how hard they try to spy the bottoms of their flutes.

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Vacation in Coupe | Lets Go


The fresh salty air is like no other as urban scape hugs the sound. The market bustles teaming with vegetables and fish. Cozy fine equitably priced chef's micro restaurants nestle amongst the comings and goings of the days harvest and catch.


Conversations over coffee, "Does it really bruise the fish to toss it? Is the visual experience of Geoduck really worth the flavor?


They go for the steamed fresh clams, soft crusty sourdough bread and Champagne. And the Coupe adventure begins. Awaiting the turbo ferry to Victoria BC, a small group of fast friends are snacked with repast still working on libation. The mid-morning sun called for eggs and bake so the vacationing band of comrades persevered until they found a quiet restaurant not quite open but willing to serve their simple request.


The last half of the bottle was in silence some legs up on chairs, they witnessed the goings on outside the floor to ceiling window. Nodding to each other in agreement, they gather their jackets and day bags, out the door cruising to the queue for the ferry.


It was no time, they found themselves sitting in plush leather seats having ordered their bubbly and a bit of nosh: Ploughman's platter. The energy matches the boat's speed as the bubbles make for goofing off and playing around. Taking it down a notch, they push back their seats to nap for the last 30 minutes of the trip.


Feeling fresh. Disembarking the air is similar to Seattle, they chatter about Madame Tussaud's and The Butchart Gardens. Like sheep they find themselves in Customs, each focused on the day and still a bit tipsy. Answering questions, pushed through the shoot, everyone lands on the other side… except one.


"Where's Bebe?" her longtime boyfriend begins to panic. The others start to spin around like tops in one place scanning the flowing room for the elegant somber woman with her smart clothes and Oroton bag. The continuous stream of ferry rider's emerge from the turnstiles. Nothing, she is missing.

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