frogs_of_war

So I know this chapter's been read and you're ready for the next chapter, would you guys please hit the heart after your done reading? I've been feeling a little tender lately.

Title: Complex
Chapter: 1
Words: 1291
Summary: Steele finally makes the move on that junior he's crushed on, despite the compulsion of the cutie's ex to stay far away, and that move gets him further than he could have ever expected.

Steele walked gently up to the bench where beautiful Dal wept. The compulsion to stay away was strong—Dal had belonged to a demon until just two weeks ago.

But Steele wasn't going to let a little thing like that get between him and comforting the cutest Junior on campus. "Dal?"

Dal flinched then looked up through his wet lashes. "Sorry."

He was so pretty. ( Read more... )

Crossposts: http://frogs-of-war.livejournal.com/172864.html

I wrote 20,000 words in the last three days (20k is after cutting scenes that weren't working etc and the three days include a day when i didn't get home until 5pm). Over 9k of this was yesterday. The most I've remember ever writing was 34k over seven (calendar) days and I think my daily record was about 7k. My back and legs are sore from all those hours of sitting.

Whatever I write next is going to have short character names. This one had Steele and Dal, but also Hezekiel and his parents Salathiel and Cunobelius, plus Onesimus, all of which I had to write over and over. Penelope gets shorted to Pen or Lope depending on the whose talking, but only one person shortens Hezekiel. I am so tired of demon names.

Which means that this long story leaned itself to not one but two side stories. And they both involve demons.

I really need to edit it (I've only gone though and fixed the typos and then only of the first half. Better get to that), but I thought I'd give you a taste of the story that sucked my soul the last few days, but made me feel more alive than ever.

Yes, Charis, this is the one I told you about.

~~~~~~~

Steele walked gently up to the bench where beautiful Dal wept. The compulsion to stay away was strong—Dal had belonged to a demon until just two weeks ago.

But Steele wasn’t going to let a little thing like that get between him and comforting the cutest Junior on campus. “Dal?”

Dal flinched then looked up through his wet lashes. “Sorry.”

He was so pretty.

Steele held up a hand but didn’t quite touch Dal. Dal leaned into him and changed into the prettiest, tiniest, speckled cat Steele had ever seen then climbed into his lap. Steele stroked him gentle until he calmed and insisted on less gentle caresses. Dal was purring, so he must be better.

So warm. Dal’s voice was a tickle in the back of his mind.

“We’ll be warmer inside.”

Cat-Dal looked up. You can understand me? But you aren’t a familiar.

Now how did pretty little Dal know anything about Steele? They’d only had one class together and Dal had withdrawn halfway through Western Swing Dance because his new demon boyfriend was a jealous fleabag. “I’m not a cat, but I can understand you.”

Cat-Dal butted his head against Steele’s chest. Take me inside.

“Baby, I’ll take you anywhere.”

Cat-Dal meowed. It couldn’t really be translated. Steele folded Dal’s clothes and put them in his backpack, then buttoned Cat-Dal into his jacket. Cat-Dal looked out his collar, then tucked himself inside.

~~~~~

Now I need to figure out if it will be better in 26 parts or in 12 chapters

And I better get my stuff ready for work. I have to go back tomorrow...

Crossposts: http://frogs-of-war.livejournal.com/172785.html

I have another story ready to post, only one group of characters are self proclaimed 'uneducated hillmen' and I'm having trouble deciding how these men are going to talk. I want them to sound old fashion, but if you go too far back, English isn't English anymore.

Night Club Cat, conclusion
words: 2.5k

“If what we had the first time was vanilla and I’m used to chocolate, what was this morning?” Key bounced his foot. Beck was on his way back from a study group. Sexy had suggested that they wait in Sexy’s dorm, but Key wanted to be closer. This park was across from Beck’s dorm.

Sexy stretched out his legs. His long sexy legs. “Our first time was cheesecake. Much too rich to be vanilla.”

“French vanilla?”

( he’ll shout ‘Hotty’ or ‘Hunk’ across a pizzaria )

Crossposts: http://frogs-of-war.livejournal.com/172419.html

Night Club Cat

Key's world as human is small: a night club, the laundry mat, and the library. He spends the rest of his time as a cat. But a sexy guy gives him a reason to spend more time on two feet.

Masterlist with both lj and DW links, for those that need it.

lj DW
1 One

2 Two
3 Three

4 Four
5 Five
6 Six
7 Seven
8 Eight
9 Nine

Warnings: a character lived though abuse as a child. He doesn't show up much, but he's important. He's also in love with a man who lived as his brother for a few years. And a brief mention of incest between two adult brothers. I tried to be sensitive with these things, but if even brief mentions disturb you, I completely understand.

Crossposts: http://frogs-of-war.livejournal.com/172223.html

I discovered a website with free cute patterns. I made a squid:

Also, my latest story has been listed. The Locked Room is Bluebeard, set in modern times, without the death.

I've got a story I'll post when I'm finished (I've been thinking I was less than 500 words for the end for the last 3k), but I just realized I've forgotten to post the end of Night Club Cat. Oops.

Crossposts: http://frogs-of-war.livejournal.com/171877.html

This was supposed to be the end. I'd just finish this chapter and I'd be ready (after Valentine's Day) to start something else (or finish something), but no, Key refused to act out of character just to I wasn't still in my pajamas at 2:30.

Night Club Cat (now I wished I called it Anchored)
1.8k

Sexy walked Key back to his neighborhood. Key slowed as he neared his parents’ house. Sexy ran his fingers across Key’s lips. “You can do this.”

Key knew he could. He’d even talked himself into doing it today. Putting it off would just mean sleepless nights until he got it done. “I know.”

“They love you.”

( Read more... )

Crossposts: http://frogs-of-war.livejournal.com/171656.html

I sat down to write this morning... and promptly spilled tea on my keyboard. I think it's dry now, but so is my muse. If I'm going to get any writing done, I better knuckle through, but I'm not sure what should happen right after this chapter.

Night Club Cat, part seven (apologies for not putting a cut in, but cuts have been screwing up my formatting and I haven't got the patience today to fight)
900 words

Key slumped on a park bench. What was he going to do? Dogs ran back and forth through the dog park. Kid’s shrieked and yelled from the playground. Everyone was here with someone except him.

A giant leopard cat jumped on the bench beside him. Key held out his hand. “I haven’t met you before.”

He knew all the cats, domestic and feral, in the neighborhood. He would have remembered this beautiful beast.

The cat sniffed him and climbed in his lap.

“Whoa, beautiful. Watch your feet.”

The cat kneaded his legs and rubbed up against him.

“All right, all right. I’ll pet you.”

The cat’s fur was even softer than it looked. He didn’t have a collar. “Where do you live, beautiful? You have to have a home; you’re so well taken care of.”

The cat sniffed his neck then jumped down. Watching him walk away made Key feel more alone than ever. The cat stopped, turned his head, and blinked. Key got up and followed him. Under the trees, the sounds of playing were muted. They walked on until the cat went off trail. Key stopped. This “path” led to where he kept his backpack.

The cat blinked at him again. Key did his best to follow. The path was much more difficult with his greater height and lesser coordination. Human bodies were weird.

Or did he only think that because he’d spent most his life as a cat?

In the small clearing by Key’s favorite tree, the cat sniffed about, turned three times, and blinked. Then Sexy was standing in the cat’s place in all his naked glory.

Key fell to his knees. Sexy knelt in front of him. “I can’t say I’ve ever had that reaction before.”

“No?” Key looked him down. Anything was better than thinking.

Sexy laughed. He laid his head on Key’s shoulder. “You’re not alone.”

Key choked up. He couldn’t breathe.

“There are many of us. I want you to meet my fathers, siblings, and all their kids.”

Key wiped his nose. A thought stuck in his throat. He swallowed hard. “Not all… people who turn into cats are related to you?”

Sexy laughed. “No. Familiars got their abilities many different way, just like wizards did.”

Key blinked at him.

“Sorry, not ready for that yet I gather. Not all blue eyed people are related. Or all red headed people.”

Okay. “You came here to find me.”

“My team and I split up. They went to research the past of a family of familiars that disappeared in the area twenty years ago. I’m here to look around. I recognized you as a familiar the first time I saw you. I’m not even sure you’re related to the family.” Sexy took Key’s hand. “But here you are, a familiar who doesn’t know who he is.”

Key pulled his hand away. “You had to help.”

“It wasn’t a hardship.” Sexy’s body was much too close. And he was as perfect as Key had imagined. Change of subject. “Was the family Cziske? My caseworker said I was found in a blanket with key chain with that word on it.”

“Sis-key?”

“C-Z-I-S-K-E. I learned early that that meant me. It was on the folders with my stuff inside.”

“The Marlows say you were given the name Christopher, but that you didn’t respond to it.”

“They called me Kit?”

“That seemed to fit you. You were always kitten like.” Sexy grinned. “And you responded to Kit at least as often as a cat would.”

Key hung his head.

“I’m one of thirteen, so I pretty much respond to any of their names as well as my own.”

“Thirteen!”

“It was going to be three batches of three, except my oldest sister decided to be born, so the middle batch was four, then my grandmother, who studies fertility, figured out how to get three or more parents genes into a baby without invasive treatments. So of course my fathers had to try it, and familiars don’t do well in litters of one.”

“Your family’s weird.”

Sexy nodded. “But thirteen isn’t that big of family where I’m from.”

“Without invasive treatments?” What a funny thing to get caught up on. “Wouldn’t all of you be? What woman would want to carry three?”

“Dad and Papa carried us. Males familiars carry the kittens as often as the female.” Sexy frowned. “Maybe more, since we seem to have more sons than daughters.”

A baby inside Key’s belly? “Weird.”

“As weird as this?” Sexy turned back into the cat.

Key squinted. “You’re that cat who joined me the other night.”

Sexy rubbed up against him.

“If thirteen is normal, how many is a lot?”

“I know a couple who had five for their first litter, six for their second and have had about a dozen kids under five for… as long as I can remember.”

Key put a hand on his gut. “We aren’t going to do that.”

Sexy licked his paw. “Grandma told us the trick to keep it three or under.”

“What about just one?” How did anyone take care of infant twins, let alone six?

Sexy froze. “It isn’t good for familiars to be alone.”

“Like I am?”

“Like you were.” Sexy pushed Key, not just over but in a way that made him want to turn cat. Key squirmed out of his clothes. Sexy groomed him. Being with another cat person, familiar or whatever, was the best feeling on earth.

Crossposts: http://frogs-of-war.livejournal.com/171283.html

I was almost late for work yesterday because when the person on the radio said "the president" and my sleepy brain knew that meant Trump, I turned the alarm off rather than snoozing it, like I was unconsciously hoping if I went back to sleep, I'd find it had been a dream.

My health insurance cards are finally in the mail (or so I'm told). Should have had it before New Years. Two of us are waiting to make appointments until they show up.

I don't know where I heard it, but whoever it was was wrong: chalk markers are not a good substitute for tailor's chalk. Well some of it did wash out or at least fade, so I can use the fine tip white, red and black in the seam allowance.

Somewhere between 7 and 10 percent of the metro area I live in rallied downtown yesterday. As the metro area has half the state's population, that is a pretty good sized chunk of the whole population. I heard they didn't have room to march as the whole parade route was full of people. Next time (which I'm sure they'll be), they should march in a circuit so at least they could do more than stand still.

We are gearing up to Valentine's. I just wrote the schedule, although I'm sure it will be changed half a hundred times in the next few weeks. I scheduled all the people I could, for all the hours I could and still only used half the hours I had at hand, but as my new manager reminds me, we can use that as over time.

I'm hoping we get them partly because I enjoy keeping people busy and I'm good at it as long as I can flit from place to place encouraging, finding new tasks, doing those little things that slip through. And big holidays are the only time I can do this.

I also like doing the accounting part. Balancing the books and counting dollar/hours. Who'd have thought it.

Crossposts: http://frogs-of-war.livejournal.com/171089.html

Our area is on hold, no one is supposed to go out that doesn't have to, until the freezing rain turns to rain and then melts the ice/compact snow that covers everything. Then we wait to see how bad the flooding is. Which probably means the store I work at is crowded with customers getting that last thing or just seeing what the roads are like. I'm so glad I had the day off.

Night Club Cat, part six
1.1k

Key batted at a rock. How long before Key got more than kisses? He wanted Sexy against a wall or, better yet, in a bed. If Sexy was staying in town for weeks, he had to have a hotel or a room somewhere. Why hadn’t he invited Key over?

Maybe Key had enough to rent a room for the night. But he’d need all that for living on. Would anyone be willing to rent to someone with no ID? Would he want to rent from someone who was?

Key sighed.

( Radish roses )

Crossposts: http://frogs-of-war.livejournal.com/170862.html

This story keeps getting longer and longer.

Night Club Cat, part five
1k words

Key spend a crazy amount of time getting ready. He only had two jeans and three shirts fit to walk around town in. This shouldn’t take him this long. But should he wear makeup? Would Sexy even recognize him in street clothes?

( Read more... )

Crossposts: http://frogs-of-war.livejournal.com/170606.html

Part four means it's time for angsty flashback.

Night Club Cat, part 4
772 words
Short, vague mention of child abuse. I tried to put it behind a cut, but it won't let me

No one was in the woods tonight, so Key just chucked his clothes, rolled them up carefully, and put them in the backpack he’d hidden in the tree. He’d have to take the backpack to his locker at the bus station before it rained again. Or he could just leave them there, turning back into earth. He couldn’t risk going back to the night club. That one anyway. He should probably come back for the money though.

Tomorrow.

Fur was warmer than slashed up clothes. He liked this form better. People were nicer to him, not expecting anything he couldn’t give.

He went home the long way. Tonight wasn’t time to see where his hope had been shattered. He’d really liked that foster home and he’d loved the parents. He’d called them Mom and Dad from the day he met them, the first Mom and Dad he remembered having. When they asked him if he was willing to let them adopt him, he’d cried with joy. Everything had been perfect except for his new older brother.

Even at ten, Key could see how messed up Beck was. Beck had needed the stable home, the loving parents who would never hurt him, and the therapist his adoptive parents had such hope in. What he didn’t need was temptation in the form of a little brother.

Key couldn’t have been ten. Beck had had his tenth and eleventh birthdays while Key lived with them. Key had only gone up to Beck’s shoulder. Was Beck one and a half or two and a half years older? If he could remember, he might be able to figure out his own age. Or maybe not.

Just after the new year, Beck and Key were left alone together. Looking back, what happened might have been an aberration. If not for missing several therapist appointment due to sickness and foul weather, Beck spending Christmas Eve with his mother’s family, and the two of them being unsupervised for a specified amount of time—Mom’s appointment got moved up so she left just as Dad was supposed to get home, but then Dad called saying traffic was horrible and that he’d pick up dinner, so not to expect him for a half an hour at least—Beck might not have tried to do the thing to Key that no child should do or have done to them. But if Beck hadn’t had it done to him, he never would have thought to do it in the first place.

Key ran. He dove out the back door, ran down the alley and crawled into the first inviting place. The loft over Mrs. N’s garage was still warm and smelled nice. Today she’d left tuna, cheddar, and rice at the bottom of the ladder. She really spoiled him.

Back then he’d woken to the sound of purring and realized it was him. The first few years as a cat were a blur. He’d come to himself after who knew how long living with the feral cats in the city’s baseball stadium. He’d wandered the city for a while, searching for himself and on the night he passed through this neighborhood, Beck had been sitting at the gate to the alley, rocking, and sobbing Key’s name, asking for forgiveness. Everything had come back to Key, including his own name.

Key forgave Beck. The poor kid had been through enough.

The family never fostered any more children. Beck was raised an only child like he needed to be. When Key didn’t avoid the house, he would still see Mom and Dad look around when they got home then sigh and continue with their day.

Key longed to go back, to get hugs and love, but how could he say where he’d gone? Mom, I just spent the last few years as a cat. He didn’t want them to see him like this. Beck was set to graduate from a local university next year, according to Mrs. N who kept her little stray abreast of all the neighborhood gossip. That would make him twenty-one? And Key eighteen? nineteen? Somewhere in there.

He jumped up the ladder. No one had been here since he left. Good. He kneaded the old sleeping bag Mrs. N had left up here for him, then settled down to a good purr.

Sometime in the night another cat curled up next to him, purring loudly. He felt so safe and warm that he didn’t bristle. He had been alone too long. Maybe he should go on this date, if just for the company. It wouldn’t do to forget to be human.

Crossposts: http://frogs-of-war.livejournal.com/170398.html

Why today - a real day off - can I not seem to get anything done?

Night Club Cat, part 3
735 words

“Kitten.” Warm hands slid just above Key’s arms.

Key spun in place. “Sexy!”

Sexy laughed. “Yasin, but Sexy works too.”

Key licked his lips. He didn’t want to know Sexy’s name. But now that he knew, he couldn’t keep the smile off his face. “Sexy… Yasin.”

Sexy grinned back. “Dance with me?”

Key cocked an eyebrow. “Thought you’d never ask.”

Sexy was as sexy as before, tonight in a silky shirt and tight leather pants. Key had settled for newish jeans so small they exposed his hip bones. He’s cut up the sides, then added grommets and laced it up with shiny elastic. Sexy’s hands were so big they could rest on Key’s hip bones while his fingers played with the slits in Key’s shirt.

Key was really proud of the flower petal pattern of the slits. He’d found the pattern online. The library was a great place.

The girls behind him laughed and one banged into him, forcing him chest to chest—and waist to hips against Sexy. He was very, very hard, but before Key could take advantage of it, Sexy stepped back and turned them both, leaving the drunk girls behind.

After three more songs, they stopped for drinks. Sexy let Key order for them both, so Key picked something delicious. When they tucked themselves into a nice little corner, all Key could think about was the delectable things he was going to do with Sexy.

But they were interrupted. Again.

A twenty appear between Sexy’s fingers. “Stay?”

Key slid the money into his pocket with all the others. He would have stayed anyway, but the money reminded Key, yet again, that Sexy was only a partner-of-the-moment. They had no future together. Key could never be anyone’s boyfriend or even lover.

“What’s got you sad, Kitten?” Sexy rubbed his prickly cheek against Key’s neck then kissed down Key’s shoulder.

Key leaned back into him. He had no words. None anyone would believe anyway.

“We could meet somewhere else next time.”

What a sweet thought. But… “I better not.”

“I could take you out to dinner?” Sexy kissed the back of his neck.

Then they could go to Sexy’s place and Key could spend the night in a real bed for one. What a beautiful dream: waking beside a warm, sexy body. Breakfast together maybe. Key would never want to leave. “I can’t.”

“I know a place that makes killer fish and chips.”

Key’s belly rumbled.

“I could meet you there.”

Key turned to face Sexy and pretend pouted. “You aren’t offering to pick me up?”

Sexy grinned. “We all have secrets.”

No one could have secrets like Key’s.

“We could walk beside the river hand in hand.”

Key could never have that. He was tearing up. His makeup would be ruined.

“Just think about it.”

A drunk guy staggered into their corner. He pointed at Key. “Hey. You’re that whore, right?”

Key was not a whore! He let the man have it with fist and nail. Sexy lifted him off. “I think you won, Kitten. Maybe we should go outside and cool down.”

They went out the front door. How could Key have been that distracted? Last time he’d let a guy take him out the front door, he’d gotten pushed into a car and had to jump out while it was moving. He’d never rescued those clothes. He looked around. “Where’s you car?”

“I took the tram.”

“You did not.” Why would a guy with that much money to pour on a ‘sweet, young thing’ not have a car?

“Secrets, remember.”

Key shook his head. No secrets could explain that.

“Walk me to the bus stop?” Sexy took Key’s hand.

This whole night as surreal. Key walking with anyone—let anyone someone so sexy—making small talk? Making plans for a real date? Tonight had to be a dream.

Sexy’s hand slipped from Key’s as the bus pulled up. “Tomorrow at 5:30?”

Key nodded. The lump in his throat was too large to speak around. Key watched the bus until to turned. Sexy hadn’t gotten out. He must not have been lying about not having a car, with him anyway. But none of that mattered. Key wasn’t going on the date. Nothing would come of it even if he did.

Key slunked home, trailing broken bits of his heart. Even hope wasn’t enough for people like him.

Crossposts: http://frogs-of-war.livejournal.com/170089.html

I have gotten:

this typed in along with parts 3 & 4 (4 made me cry as I wrote it).
My clothes through the load, ready to be folded
Hand-washing done
a walk in. Took me over an hour and a half to walk two miles, but my son and I stopped often to take pictures. The forecast now says it's not going to get above freezing until Monday. We'll have muddy ice by then. Good thing I went while it was still pretty.

Night Club Cat, part 2
200 words

That shirt would be perfect. If only the customer holding it up didn’t want it. The lady showed the dark purple shirt to the boy she was with—her son or grandson. Key wasn’t a good judge of age. The kid—five? seven?—whined about going to see the toys. This thrift store didn’t have many, but most were ones Key remembered from when he had time to care about that kind of thing.

The lady followed the boy to the back of the store.

Key pounced.

The shirt was soft and stretchy, too small to try on, but with statically placed slashes, it would be formfitting. He might entice Sexy to—

Key shoved the shirt back on the rack. He was not going to care how Sexy reacted to Key’s clothes. Sexy was just another guy lining Key’s pockets. Nothing could come of it. Even if Sexy wanted something more, Key couldn’t risk it.

The lady came back, towing the boy, her eyes on the rack in front of Key.

He grabbed the shirt off the rack and put it over his arm with the rest of his stash. If she’d really wanted it, she should have taken it with her.

Crossposts: http://frogs-of-war.livejournal.com/169789.html

I called in today because I'm sure I could get to the bus stop... eventually, but then I'd have to wait for whenever a bus decided to come along.

So today I want to:

Type in the next part of Night Club Cat
Start a load of my clothes (I went to get dressed in non-work clothes and could only find shorts to cloth my lower half. The top half I covered with a shirt I bought a week ago for my birthday and hadn't had a chance to wear.)
Hand wash my Christmas shirts (the label says Gentle cycle, but when I decide it's time to take the sequins off, I want them all to come off at once.
Get a rough draft done for a horror-ish Peter Pan story insipred by a song they keep playing at work.
Figure out what's going to happen in Night Club Cat (I keep wanting to spell cat with a K) part three
Edit part 2 and post it
Decide which plushie I'm making next (last week I made Sting - the Hobbit sword, not the singer). I found fleece at 75% off in a wide range of colors (remnants during a 50% off sale) so I spent $30. I might have a years worth. Or even longer.
Vacuum the living room. My household thinks a room is clean if they picked up the big stuff.
Fold and put away my clothes
Hopefully take a walk before the snow turns to rain, but this has to wait until I find pants.
If I get enough done, I might reward myself with peanut butter cookies

Crossposts: http://frogs-of-war.livejournal.com/169722.html

Is either my first Tuesday or third Monday — or just day three of nine at work. Let's see if I survive it.

Crossposts: http://frogs-of-war.livejournal.com/169365.html

Yesterday was supposed to be my day off. Instead I worked from just before 8am to 6pm and totally missed the snow. all we have left is slush.

Night Club Cat

Key danced to the edge of the crowd. His self-designated dance Partner-of-the-Moment looked him down. Key’s clothes were getting too tight. Living in Mrs. N’s garage was too good. He’d grown five inches in the last year and filled out quite a bit.

( Read more... )

Key knew what he was doing next Friday night.

Crossposts: http://frogs-of-war.livejournal.com/169166.html

Now I'm pretty sure I wrote a story about a ginger familiar getting unwanted attention from a tortie and being rescued by his secret crush. It might have been back in spring, maybe to a Charis prompt. I can't find it anywhere. I didn't just dream it, did I?

I thought maybe I'd just summarized it in a notebook and made the summary so thorough that I remembered it as having written the whole thing, but all I can find is two pages in a tiny notebook and the summary doesn't have that Ginger and his crush (Hunk in my notes) have known each other forever because their parents are friends and that Hunk is from Jade, J, and Vido's second litter.

And my brief summary ends when Tortie comes up to him the next day and says she knows Hunk isn't really his boyfriend. Where is the rest? Only in my head?

I'd just rewrite it, now that I have time to write again, but I've got another story haunting me about a feral familiar who goes to dance clubs in an effort stay socialized and as none of it is written down, I'm starting to lose details. *sigh*

Crossposts: http://frogs-of-war.livejournal.com/168791.html

I've fallen into the Pintrest hole. But while on my many adventures there, I looked at a lot of Russian dolls.

They have no faces (in Ukraine they have crosses for faces)

and traditionally the cloth they are made from has never met with anything sharp (scissors, needles, pins). Some of the ladies are very endowed.

(each breast is almost as big as her head. I was thinking she was for fertility, but maybe that's one with six babies strapped to her chest)

I'm not really surprised. We have Barbies over here after all. But then I found out the men were endowed too.

I have never seen anatomically correct rag dolls before...

Crossposts: http://frogs-of-war.livejournal.com/168693.html

Saturday the roasters were crowing in unison. Three times as loud, but with longer pauses. I needed a shower, so I gathered my stuff and went in. When others had complained about the shower, I thought they were just experiencing what I had, but it was so much worse. Wetting down my washcloth took 15 seconds, not the whole thing, just the middle enough that water would drip through. I washed myself by wetting the wash cloth and then rubbing off the soap. But I didn’t hit the very end of my rope until I realized that the chair I’d set my clean stuff on had been visited by the chickens too. I needed to get off the island.

We went to the town’s Farmers Market where we were supposed to meet step-dad, but he got so busy gabbing with old and new friends that he never made it to the meeting stop. We passed him as we were leaving.

We went to sis-in-law’s house and regaled her with tales of the old house. She offered the use of her shower and said we could camp out in their yard. I said no, mostly because it would cost us $28 to get over there and if we were going to spend that kind of money, I was going to sleep there. It turns out that step-dad has always been like this (he asked if they’d ever plumed the sink after we’d been there a few days, which says he never went up and looked before inviting us to stay). All the hospitality I remember from the visits were because of hubby’s sisters.

She took us my the garden she helped organizes at her daughter’s school. Then we went to a Salmon festival. We got there just in time to see their birds of prey show. We lefts sis-in-law and the kids to that and my husband and I walked around. I was all peopled out. But Sis-in-law texted us to come back. Their youngest brother’s daughter was there with her mother. She looks a lot like my other sister-in-law. She is the same age as sis-in-law’s oldest son and said that when she’d introduced herself in Spanish class as his cousin, he hadn’t believed her.

Sis-in-law’s husband is in a band, so we went out to eat at the local Mexican restaurant (Mexican food by and for people who have never tasted food made by people who have been to Mexico) then we went to see him play at the last town sponsored concert of the summer. I don’t sit still well unless my hands are busy or I’m very entertained (hence my family knew Stranger Things was good because I didn’t walk away at any point), so I brought crafts. My niece finally warmed up to us (part of it might have been to pipe cleaner/bead dolls I let her have).

We also met one of my husband’s quasi half sisters. His mom and her dad never married, but they have fond childhood memories. She has a one year old, having had all her adventures before she settled down. I’m so glad mine are (nearly) grown. Sis-in-laws in-laws were also there. They were super friendly and offered us their bottom floor when we next come up.

Sis-in-law and her family stayed to clean up, so we headed for a view point and looked over the city. Then we went back to her house until we had to leave to catch the last ferry (11pm on the weekends). We made plans that the next time we’d camp out or something. I’m done with the old house and the expensive ferry.

Before we went to bed, we picked a ferry crossing we wanted to be on. The kids said they could do nine, but the next morning we were up and packed by eight (when the first ferry arrived) and only had to wait for our host to say goodbye before we left.

We walked the beach until the ferry came, then puttered about town until a good time to invade sis-in-law’s house. We hung out with her and I assured her when she worried that we weren’t seeing more sites, that we’d come to see her and seeing her was all we really wanted. We didn’t want to leave until the game traffic in Seattle had died down, so she opened a hive and gave us honey. I’ve never seen poppy honey before. It’s very dark.

We only stopped once on the way home (note if ever visiting Washington rest areas - might work for everywhere with two restroom buildings - always go to the building furthest from the opening. The restroom closer to the entrance was small and crowed, dark, dirty and out of soap. The other one was bright, fully supplied, and 10 empty stalls when I entered. ) We dragged ourselves in the house, but I insisted the kids not put their bedding back on their beds. We washed the whole lot Monday morning.

I also discovered that the heavy pain in my chest is probably allergies. Up there I breathed fine, Sunday evening I was fine. Monday I felt like I’d been hit by a Mac truck. It could also be stress. I had nightmares all Sunday night that the bed was on fire or that I was burning. But I’ve started to take a few tablespoons of local honey everyday just in case.

Crossposts: http://frogs-of-war.livejournal.com/168218.html

Rosters woke us again on Friday. We felt more ourselves, but everyone who took a shower complained about it. My husband even tried to shower upstairs, but the water never got warm at all. Breakfast was eggs and toast, both heated in the fry pan we went over and asked for after we realized he’d never remember to bring it.

We went to a beach where we could gather rocks with sis-in-law. There we so many pretty rocks. I decided just to pick the white ones, but I started noticing green ones at the waters edge (the look brown/grey when dry) and the look of incredulity on my daughter's face when I came back with a handful of green rocks was enough to keep me picking them up.

Sis-in-law is really nice. I was kind of worried about coming up and seeing them because even though I’ve been married to my husband for 25 years, we’ve only seen his family a handful of times (They live in northern Washington, Southern California, and Hawaii). But she fit right in with us. She was aghast to see the condition of the old house. She wasn’t informed we were actually coming until Wednesday, which was her kids' first day of school. She had wanted to clean it.

She had to leave to pick her kids up from school, but she wanted us to come by for dinner. It turns out her family eats the same pizzas from the same take and bake chain ours does. Cheese and Cowboy with mushrooms on only half. We bought a few things we’d missed on our last shopping trip, plus some baking soda. The sink in the downstairs bathroom had years of rust on it (when the family first moved in decades ago the water was so full of iron and sulfur it was undrinkable. My husbands said to him the sink was always orange.

Then we went to a park for an hour or so. Sis-in-law isn’t shy. Her husband has to work to keep the conversation going (like we do) and their kids made themselves scarce. She showed off her little house and her big yard. She keeps bees and my youngest took lots of pictures of the hives.

Long about sunset, step-dad and hubby’s youngest brother stopped by, so we all went to a beach. It turns out that step-dad knows everyone and is able to make fast friends with anyone he doesn’t. We walked around and back to the rocky beach as the last of the light left. I took 80 pictures there. But a yellow jacket decided my niece was it’s hive and stung her six times before getting caught in her sock. My baking soda to the rescue. We went back to sis-in-law’s house and got pampered until it was time to leave for the ferry. This time it only cost us $12, but that was the end of our tickets.

I was more antsy than tired, so I scrubbed the sink with baking soda and a paper towel. The backing soda was orange and the sink was mostly white when I gave up for the night.

Crossposts: http://frogs-of-war.livejournal.com/167998.html

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the dawning of the rest of our lives

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