Mystery Tapper

Tap Tap Tap Tap—Tap Tap Hearing the sound, I assume it’s coming from across the street where a neighbor is having carpet installed. But there are no doors or windows open (not surprising, with icicles hanging off the trees), which makes me wonder how I hear it so clearly. Tap Tap Tap Tap—Tap Tap There it goes again. From my window overlooking the street, I can finally tell the sound is coming from my front door. Strange for someone to knock rather than ring the bell. Even stranger, there doesn’t appear to be anyone on the porch. Tap Tap Tap Tap—Tap Tap My cautious nature makes me hesitate. When have I ever opened the door without first knowing who was there? I take a deep breath, grasp the knob, and pull. The porch is empty. I step outside and look up and down...

The Campout

This story was just published! Go to Sasee.com to find “The Campout” in the March, 2022, issue.

The Beauty of Rocks

Rocks call to me, inanimate though they may be. Perhaps my attraction is their permanence, their ability to stand firm and solidly in place. True, erosion comes with the passage of time, with exposure to weather extremes, and with interference from human hands. But I have no intention of damaging rocks; I only want to enjoy them. Climb, sit on top in the sun, or rest beneath an overhang in the shade. I first appreciated the shelter of a rock at age seven during a hike up Sharp Top Mountain at Peaks of Otter, Virginia, a strenuous one-and-a-half-mile climb. After suffering the heat along the way, I welcomed the shaded opening near the summit. Two gray rocks gaped like the mouth of a gator, though with flat surfaces sans teeth. I stretched out on the lower bed-like...

A Hard Night

After a rough night of little sleep, I dragged myself downstairs to the breakfast table. “I’m exhausted!” I told my husband, George. “I became the star of an action-packed thriller and spent the night fighting a yeti.” He looked at me with raised eyebrows. “An ice chest?” That woke me up. A new perspective for my adventure.

Un-Jockeyed

Jockey brand is one of my favorites, underwear, sleepwear, and activewear. It’s comfortable and affordable. After spending a bit at the Jockey outlet in Destin recently, I received an email asking if I wanted to be part of a Jockey Wear test. Hey, if I get a product for free just for purposes of giving feedback, I’m all in. I took their four- to five-minute survey to see if I qualified. First question: Gender. My answer: Female Second question: Age. My answer: Sixty-something. Jockey’s immediate response: Sorry, but unfortunately you do not qualify for this particular wear test from Jockey. Done in five seconds. Apparently, old women are not their target market.

Images

My new story, Images, was just posted on potatosoupjournal.com. I’d love for you to read it!

Thighs

My thighs are fat They carry my weight As opposed to my back Which never over-ate. I walk miles each day To keep them trim But still they pucker There’s no shrinking them. My wrists are small Ankles, as well My arms don’t have flaps But my thighs…What the hell? I’m shaped like my mom Though quite a bit smaller And she never exercised So, my thighs-why the horror? I massage them, use lotion That’s s’posed to melt fat Do leg lifts and squatties But still, look at that. Diets won’t shrink them And still they wobble Each cell has a mouth Seeking food to gobble. Is chocolate the problem? Lord, please, NO! ‘cause that’s one thing I can never let go! I’m an addict, it’s true, And I say it with pride. No shame in chocoholism I won’t be denied. So when kids say, “Granny,...