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

As she stepped out of the shower Pen breathed a sigh of relief. She smiled to herself as she looked at her reflection in the freshly cleared mirror and whispered, “I out spied the spy.” She wrapped herself in a bathrobe and wondered at her accomplishment. As she toweled the remaining water from her hair, she took time to reflect closely on her perceived victory. Me following a spy without being seen. She let that thought sit in her mind. He’s one of the best spies in Europe, according to some one of the best in the world. He had to know that I was there. I would have to be some kind of a jerk not to think that he didn’t know. If I were him and I knew that I was being followed… “He’s going to gloat and then he’s going to boast. Scotch is going to make sure I know that he caught me watching him and he’s going to gloat.” Pen picked up her dirty clothes and put them in the hamper, hanging her towel to dry, she exited the bathroom muttering to herself, “I have to have a plan. I have

Personal struggles. The challenges that you have just because you are you can be a daily struggle but they also make your writing better. Did I write that? That is so dry. Let’s make this more interesting. The more that I talk about writing the more of myself I find myself sharing. Is it good? Is it bad? I don’t know. The one thing I do know is that I have shared this story before. A lot. It’s basically public knowledge at this point. Let me share it one more time. When I was a little girl a long time ago, in a galaxy far far away. Just kidding. When I was a little girl my parents along with a lot of other adults told me that I could be whatever I wanted to be when I grew up. One of the things I wanted to do was...now I’m a little bit embarrassed, but it was a really cool thing to be in the 70's. Seriously. I’m not kidding. It was cool damnit! I wanted to be an entertainer and not any entertainer. I wanted my own show. Like Sonny and Cher. Captain and Tennille.

There are little gems of beauty everywhere that have been obscured by everyday life. I have always had a love/hate relationship with yard work. Especially mowing. I like doing it for the most part. I like getting outside for a bit and knowing that after a couple of hour's work I can look at something and think to myself, “Yeah I did that. Damn I'm good.” I have learned that about myself. I first learned how to mow at seventeen. My parents bought a farm. No, I'm not an orphan. They didn't buy the farm, they bought a f arm. Forty plus acres of a farm that had potential, is in a beautiful setting, but that had fallen into disrepair. We all had to pull together to get it going. Mom and Dad started with a push mower. So as a teenager fresh out of high school, not ready for college, with a head full of dreams and no clue how to implement them...I was taught how to help mow. The argument that I was a female and was delicate didn't fly for a se

Scotch spotted McKinney the moment he entered the pub. He looked less polished since he had retired from the agency, disheveled even. It was an odd counter to the immaculate appearance Scotch was used to seeing. A seasoned agent before McLeod took over running the agency, he was the agent everyone went to including McLeod when they were in over their heads. From the greetings he got upon entering the Cock’s Comb McKinney was still missed. Scotch waited while McKinney made a circuit around the room and stopped at the bar to pick up a pint. The retired agent found Scotch soon enough seated in a private corner with an espresso on the table in front of him. “Scotch.” McKinney said, extending a hand in greeting. “Fearless Man returns.” “I wasn’t fearless. Young and stupid at times but not fearless.” He responded with a grin. “They’re still teaching your old mission scenarios in training.” Scotch countered. “Are they pointing out what I did to get into those scenarios in th