Vacation Recovery Begins Now.

This past weekend and early part of the week was an impromptu vacation for me. It was the first time in 8 years I had been more than an hour and a half from my home.

I intentionally left my laptop and tablet behind. In their place I had a pad of paper and a pen. My phone was the only electronics I had on me and it was used to take some photos…

Beach Aquarium…and phone my parents upon arrival at the hotel. The hotel was great. I think it could’ve slept 10 adults or 5 of me. A Jacuzzi everywhere you looked on the ground floor around the pools. 6 pools, most of those were heated. Full kitchen. The last hotel at the end of the beach before residential areas, across from a golf course, and a yacht club, made for a very nice, quiet time. All at a very great price.

ResortWith that knowledge now in your hands, you may understand that I am a bit behind on some commitments. Maybe not behind according to agreements, but according to my own personal preference. Blogging will be sparse the coming week until I…

  • Read at least one book for Review. (I have several)
  • Proofread and edit a book for a friend of a friend.
  • Proofread and edit at least three articles for a friends business site.
  • Write a short story for a contest. (I’ve only entered one short story contest before and won it, by luck. Maybe this will happen again.)
  • And there is something else that I am forgetting but that nagging feeling at the back of my skull tells me it’s out there waiting to make its presence known.

I’ll be back in the saddle fully soon. Enjoy the challenges and the entries in the comments of each one. If you haven’t been visiting the short stories for the Friday Fiction challenges you are missing out.

Much Respect,


PS-You know I have a book. You know you can click the image in the side bar to go get it. The reviews have been great. 9 five stars and 2 four stars so far. I’ll take that for any book I write ever.


London Adventures

I guess without a computer I could become a full-time reblogger but I don’t think would keep me going. However, this article from Suzie helps and I wanted to share. I wanted to say her writing style has changed slightly since her career change and there is more joy in my friend from England and her writing has developed into something richer and even more relatable than it was, if that is possible. I love the photos of London and her real description of a trip. I felt as though I were there.

Suzie Speaks


The Bloke and I have very different opinions on what constitutes as ‘a holiday.’ Give me a beach, a pool, a bar and glorious sunshine and I’m happy. He needs things to see and do. I like to adopt my inner vegetable and lay like broccoli, while he’s a ‘get up and go’ type.

We both, however, have a common love of London, and we try and visit as many times a year as we possibly can. Booked in advance, train tickets are very cheap and the journey is only an hour and a half, so getting there relatively easy. There’s something about it that we both connect with – the architecture, history and the atmosphere is wonderful, and over the years we have joined the millions of tourists with our cameras to experience everything the city has to offer.

Last Saturday I was attending the Annual Bloggers Bash, so…

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My Ocean, My Lover

There is a slight change in pressure as I step off the elevator. If the roar and whipping wind along the corridor does not given away the truth of what lay ahead, the white remnants of the day along the floor does. 

The breeze whips around the corner of the passageway and the hours and miles of driving begins to melt away. Some say they can smell the air, but for me it is the feel of it, reaching for me, and wrapping around me—welcoming arms pulling me onward.

I turn the corner and see the palm trees sway and the rise of sand hiding what I have been aching for these long months. My pace quickens toward what is there at any pace I chose. It has been waiting for me for a long time. She is ever patient.

The smile spreads across my face and the yearlong pent up stress escapes. The metal gate clangs shut behind me, the final barrier between the two of us. I hurry along the tiled pool area of the hotel toward the wooden steps leading to my sandy salvation. 

My sandals slide with a slight and reassuring twist on the wooden steps. Proof I am on the right path. Then I see her, moonlit rolling surf on her way to meet me, and calling me. “Hurry, it’s been too long.” 

I slip off the leather that separates my feet from the cool sand. Each particle massages muscles that ache from too long without her touch. I ease my way forward. The breeze moves my shirt and blows in my ear like a lover that one wishes they had. Happiness is within reach, my feet step onto surf pounded sand, damp from millennia old waters.

Man in night surf

The roar in my ears is like a lullaby drowning out all other sounds, or like the call of rejoice of one to another at a much longed for embrace. Perhaps that is why I love her so. She covers me with the first touch. Gentle, warm fingers wrap around my legs and urge me onward.

 I walk a few more steps, close my eyes, and feel the sand wash away as I begin to sink into her. With each grain of sand and each retreating surf, another negative memory drifts away. Another glowing thought enters. 

My shoulders slump, tension releases, muscles tremble. Yes.

Some love the sound of music to relieve their life, some a massage, and some art. For me the music of the surf, the massage of sand sifting and the art of the moon on the waves take it all away. Lovers come and go, but for me the ocean always returns and welcomes me whenever I need her. 

“Welcome home, Ronovan, I’ve missed you.” I open my eyes, and see the moon on the waves and let the rhythm drift me away.

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