Saturday Night Silliness -- Random Musings of a Writer Lady and Her Cat.

What do you do after an exit like that? Nothing much. I continue scribbling and decide that the handsome Spaniard doesn’t have to be as tall as I originally pictured him. Average height is okay for the Spaniard. He is handsome after all. I sip on my coffee for a bit and wonder what a woman does with a handsome Spaniard. Is finding oneself alone with a handsome Spaniard any different than finding oneself alone with an action hero, a prince, or the funny, sweet man that lives down the block? Yes. Adventure...there has to be an adventure when one meets a Spaniard. “What are you doing today?” Kelly asks. She’s standing in the kitchen entry as she puts on her coat. “There’s a new exhibit at the museum that I was going to check out. Paintings, windmills, I think.” Kelly nods but does not respond. She doesn’t get my fondness for a good art exhibit but she respects it. There’s a knock on the door. “I’m late.” She says as she hands me her empty mug. “Pizza and binge watch

  True confession: I am a dreamer. A hard core dreamer. When life gets to be too painful, overwhelming, scary, difficult; when I can’t understand why something is the way that it is...whatever you want to call it. I dream. I write elaborate narratives with my imagination to make things more...palatable. For a time, it got me into a little bit of trouble.   There are one or two people who will never speak to me again. There is a year or two that I don’t remember very well. You might say that I have coping issues. My coping mechanism wasn’t, healthy? I don’t know. I do know that like alcohol, drugs, or sleeping around, every time that life got difficult I would imagine a different life. Not just wish for it. But imagine it, down to the last detail. One where the career of my dreams, the adventure of a lifetime, or the man who I decided was the one to complete me would sweep in and make it all better. Or at least make me feel like it was all better. When the going got tou