Thanks. First drabble in a while.

Aimee, that was a heart-kick. I understand about the accidentally coming across the ones I'd thought destroyed.

I have the picture in my wallet now. Mom doesn't know I have it.

I wrote about a similar thing, not a drabble, just a locked memory entry. After I thought I'd destroyed everything we'd had together, I found one photo I'd missed, months later, and I reacted with a screaming meltdown during the course of which I smashed everything in my apartment and screamed my throat raw.

I wrote a song about it, and this weekend, Teppy found me the coat that I mentioned in the song, that he was wearing in that last picture I found.

Discovery. Dayum.

Family Discovery

There were rumors in the family of an evil deed, long ago done. My great-great-grandmother’s own horrific discovery. How could she have missed it? How had she had children with this man? How could she bring an innocent little girl to such a monster?

When Nana found out, she grabbed up her only daughter and left. A brave thing for a woman in the early 1900’s. Never looked back, never saw her sons again. They were more his anyway. The primal-like need to protect her daughter was fierce.

Strong women.

Finding out I was from them was my discovery.

Aimee, both of those were powerful/visceral drabbles. Hope to see you here more frequently so we can get more of those!

I want to write something, but I'm still too p-ohed at the insurance company for the condo assoc. My instinct right now is to "crush-kill", not write. Maybe later.

Thanks, Sail!

(Sorry for all the drabbles. Discovery hit me as well)

Cigarette in one hand. Lit and smoking.

Plastic pee stick in the other. Wet and shaking.

I tell myself it’s negative. Has been a hundred times before.

Patience is not my virtue.

I watch the chemical creep up and up and up. The first line turns pink. Always does. It’s the second line that always eludes me.

I set the stick down and take a drag. Blow it out slowly.

It’s negative, I tell myself. And pick up the stick.

Two lines.

Thank you for the kind words Deb. People liking my writing is making me plotz! Also, the stamp is real... I saw it on a $20 bill at work. Don't know what it means though...

So, is there dibs on the porn? Cause, I don't want to get in the way of the stampede...

I'm feeling kinda depressed all of a sudden.

I'm in a discussion on a list for judges of a particular writing contest. I happen to be both an entrant and a judge, though not in the same category, since that would be massively unethical.

The topic is how to handle recurring grammatical errors--how to offer suggestions without line-editing, how much to mark down the score, etc. And MANY judges, some of them published, are saying that poor grammar just doesn't matter that much--the copyeditor will fix that.

AmyLiz, Deb, anybody, please tell me they're wrong. I know the most impeccable, beautiful prose in the world won't sell if the underlying story is dull. But surely it gets you somewhere, right? Because, dammit, grammar matters. I recognize that it doesn't come easily for everyone, but it's a fundamental building block, and IMO not taking the time to get it right is just plain sloppy.

I know I'm all ranty, but it's to keep me from saying all this on the judges' list. But, dammit. To be all mememe, I don't like being told something I'm naturally good at isn't even important!