Thirty-five Years and One Day

She couldn't help herself from inhaling her husband's scent before she carefully slid out of her side of the bed. They'd been married for thirty-five years. Thirty-five years and one day. Last night they celebrated with too much wine for her and too much vodka for him. Much too much vodka for him. He wouldn't be up for several more hours despite the sunshine already making its way across their tiny front lawn.

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My Fingers Are Flying - An IWSG Post

Oh my gosh you guys, I am so excited for the Insecure Writer’s Support Group this month. First of all, I can finally say that winter can kiss my ass. I’d apologize for the curse word, but it’d be an empty apology. I’m not sorry. Winter can suck it! While this spring has brought me nothing but migraines, I’m more than happy to enjoy looking out the window and seeing lush greenery and the bright colors of my flowers. Yaass!! Plus, I’m beginning to see some migraine-free days sprinkled in again. Double Yaass!!

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A Family that Daiths Together Staiths Together.

I’ve been blogging for seven years. Actually, a little over seven years. I’ve had four blogs in those seven years and some of you have been following me since the very beginning. Once of those someone’s is Pat Hatt. While this post is not about him or his evil cat, I’d be remiss if I didn’t at least mention them when writing about migraines. I mean, the evil cat does love to hear my tales about migraines. Don’t you, you flea infested feline?

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