Valentine’s Day. The day of romance… Great if you’re in a relationship. Often just a painful or awkward reminder for those who aren’t. Charlie¹ sort of feels that pain himself, as you will see… Continue reading
Rose has a little story to tell us. About Gorgeous George. Get a cup of coffee (or whatever your favorite beverage might be) then sit down and enjoy!Continue reading
This diary¹ entry intrigued me:
1929 Thursday January 10
Nice day. Roads were drifted full again. LAS met here today. Not very large crowd but not so bad for the roads. Took in over $5. Snow started to blow about 4:30 and had another blizzard all night again. The wind blew just terrible. Francis, Ruth, and Oscar were here and spent the eve. We made ice cream and played cards. Jack Nolte died this noon. Mama is better.
The new year really wreaked havoc on the midwest in 1929. The diary entries for the first two weeks of the year consistently Continue reading
Charlie let the silk float over his fingertips, trying not to imagine the contours of Rose’s leg as the stocking slid past calf and thigh. Damn! He was supposed to be helping Harold find a Christmas gift for Rose, not coveting the man’s wife.
Hanlon’s was a smallish store, but they offered a good variety of merchandise. Surely there was something less… personal…
“Did you find something, Charlie? What’s that?”
Charlie dropped the hosiery as if on fire. “Ahhh…” he stammered. “Just the perfect gift for a man to give his wife.” He pointed to the display, not daring to touch the elegant gossamer again lest Harold notice the wanton lust on his face.
Harold’s eyes, however, were riveted to the display ad. “‘Holeproof silk hose with Paris clox.’ A dollar ninety-five? Geez, Charlie, I can’t afford that.”
That didn’t stop him from exploring the silken heaven for himself, though, and Charlie watched as the look on Harold’s face changed from sensible farmer to starry-eyed husband.
If the man didn’t already have Rose, Charlie’d feel sorry for him.
Poor Harold. Continue reading
Geez. That sounds like a macabre title for a mystery.
It’s not; it’s a recipe. But that sounds equally ghoulish… Continue reading
I’m a city girl. Writing a book set on a farm in 1930. There’s a lot I don’t know. Luckily, the main character, Rose, is a city girl, too.
“You want me to do what?” she asked, as if he expected her to walk on the moon.
“Milk the cows.” A reasonable request of farmer to wife, he thought.
“You’re kidding. I don’t know the first thing about cows,” she answered. So they started the first in their “how to be a farm wife” lessons right then; chapter one: Bovine.
So, Rose and I are learning about farm life together. We hope you join us; it’s going to be fun!
PS: here’s an interesting link about milking cows that Rose and I are studying…