"All ready as it's going to be dear!" Berta announced as she walked in. Lori had tried to take notes of some kind about some thoughts, yet all she had written were a few one liners. Looking up and smiling at the woman she was lightly ripped but in a state of euphoria for some reason. Just the perfect balance of tired and influences. Berta looked down at her and hoped she could make it up to the apartment. So this is the one huh? she thought silently once more, she shook off the saddening emotion that set in and smiled back at Lori. "Now tell me about this story you are stuck on?" She inquired as it being the first next thing she could think of. "Women, " Lori said almost like a drunken sailor complaining about his wives. "The habits that have been a part of their lives, and what that means as they age..." "A sort of, if you do this, it's a good thing, or this and it is a bad thing. The secrets that successful women incorporate into their lives, personally and professionally." Berta was impressed, and wanted to laugh at the same time. Who ever said there was any secrets to anything? Then Lori finished, "That's it! A whole lot of interviews and not a single bit to really bite on...." Berta could see her problem right then and there.
The Harley Davidson's were loud as they rumbled up to George's place. He already knew they were coming, even if he couldn't hear them. He went up and closed the opening to the bunker. Mark and Bridge were riding up to his place, there must be something amiss somewhere, they didn't like to take their bikes on his road for just nothing. Gravel is just not nice to Bridge's classic 36' Knucklehead, and Mark's 41' Military EL Knucklehead. George just smiled and even Sprocket got off of his bed on the porch and wagged his tail at George. "No, we aren't going for a ride today boy" was all he said and Sprocket went back to his bed. He was still happy to hear the bikes though, and George looked on as the two rode up and told him about the bear sightings they had just had. It wasn't Snaggles and they aren't all Black ones either. That worried George a bit, but not much, the boys on their bikes do a good job of shooing them off.
The tables were stacked and there was still more than fifteen years to go. Tom just looked at it all, all of that he had consumed. "Just too perfect" he said out loud. Hungry and very tired his head hurt at the job that had encompassed him. It was a full off addiction now, a very much needed diversion from his failed marriage. In turning away from his personal life he found safe harbor in his work, something that was always important to him. The job makes the man was the life motto his Father had instilled into him. The years of work of the non-profits had created a pocket for this guy Newman to hide his money behind many layers. His expenditures were modest at best and downright miserly, but Tom did glean clues from some of the timing of the withdrawals and the location they were sent. London, California, Japan, this guy went places.
Berta was coming out of the kitchen where she had started some coffee. Lori was in the middle of complimenting the furniture and taste she had. She noticed that they both had an admiration for Shelah Dow and her artwork and jewelry. She had a few prints of Laure Anne Hartmann's and some books by Kevin McDaid, and Sharon Fader Chiasson, a few of Lori's favorite authors. This all felt scripted somehow to Lori though, she felt so at ease and it wasn't the influences talking anymore. Like she was supposed to be there and see this, "I always wanted someplace like this to live in, away from the crazy world" Lori said almost under her breath as she finished speaking. Berta heard that and smiled once more, a sense of foreboding and at the same time goodwill, and blessings.
Mike Hudson had gotten a call from Jimmy about the cabin. He had some time off and Lynne was busy with a friends wedding. He knew Dad wasn't feeling up to going out there so he decided to check it out, something about the bear?..
He was actually almost worried for Lori, he knew she would be fine, but just how fine and just how unplugged was she getting herself into? The road became lost in the darkening twilight and he turned on his headlights, miles to go still.
The Harley Davidson's were loud as they rumbled up to George's place. He already knew they were coming, even if he couldn't hear them. He went up and closed the opening to the bunker. Mark and Bridge were riding up to his place, there must be something amiss somewhere, they didn't like to take their bikes on his road for just nothing. Gravel is just not nice to Bridge's classic 36' Knucklehead, and Mark's 41' Military EL Knucklehead. George just smiled and even Sprocket got off of his bed on the porch and wagged his tail at George. "No, we aren't going for a ride today boy" was all he said and Sprocket went back to his bed. He was still happy to hear the bikes though, and George looked on as the two rode up and told him about the bear sightings they had just had. It wasn't Snaggles and they aren't all Black ones either. That worried George a bit, but not much, the boys on their bikes do a good job of shooing them off.
The tables were stacked and there was still more than fifteen years to go. Tom just looked at it all, all of that he had consumed. "Just too perfect" he said out loud. Hungry and very tired his head hurt at the job that had encompassed him. It was a full off addiction now, a very much needed diversion from his failed marriage. In turning away from his personal life he found safe harbor in his work, something that was always important to him. The job makes the man was the life motto his Father had instilled into him. The years of work of the non-profits had created a pocket for this guy Newman to hide his money behind many layers. His expenditures were modest at best and downright miserly, but Tom did glean clues from some of the timing of the withdrawals and the location they were sent. London, California, Japan, this guy went places.
Berta was coming out of the kitchen where she had started some coffee. Lori was in the middle of complimenting the furniture and taste she had. She noticed that they both had an admiration for Shelah Dow and her artwork and jewelry. She had a few prints of Laure Anne Hartmann's and some books by Kevin McDaid, and Sharon Fader Chiasson, a few of Lori's favorite authors. This all felt scripted somehow to Lori though, she felt so at ease and it wasn't the influences talking anymore. Like she was supposed to be there and see this, "I always wanted someplace like this to live in, away from the crazy world" Lori said almost under her breath as she finished speaking. Berta heard that and smiled once more, a sense of foreboding and at the same time goodwill, and blessings.
Mike Hudson had gotten a call from Jimmy about the cabin. He had some time off and Lynne was busy with a friends wedding. He knew Dad wasn't feeling up to going out there so he decided to check it out, something about the bear?..
He was actually almost worried for Lori, he knew she would be fine, but just how fine and just how unplugged was she getting herself into? The road became lost in the darkening twilight and he turned on his headlights, miles to go still.
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