Cries Every Girl Knows Way Too Well

A man who had three sisters knew all about women's tears. 

There were the slow, rather lovely ones that could slide down a female

cheek like small, liquid diamonds and reduce a man to begging. 

There were hot, angry ones that spurted out of a woman's eyes like

clear fire and induced a wise man to run for cover.

And there were those that were hidden so deep in the heart that 

when they broke loose and stormed free they were a deluge of pain

beyond any man's comfort.

So he let her be, let her curl into herself on the bottom step while those 

heart-born tears raged. He knew that the hurt that spawned

such a flood closed her off. All he could do was give her privacy, and wait.

Homeport

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By Fulvio Spada from Torino, Italy - Crying tulip, CC BY-SA 2.0,

 https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=40588066

The female gender, as a whole, is infamous for being overemotional, and for shedding tears when and where tears, quite frankly, need not be shed.

In fact, it seems as if nearly any single thing can trigger us, sending us into a downward emotional spiral (feminism, amiright?). Of course, not all ladies are like this; some women are stone cold walls of non-emotion, and some have their sh*t together. I envy both.

Elite Daily

Gone... Vacations!

Ryan lay baking in the strong sun. There was an itch in the center of her back, 
but she didn't move to scratch it. 
She lay still and let the heat soak into her skin.

She had spent a week on board her father's yacht off the coast of St. Croix.

This Magic Moment

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Being Nora Bound goes to the Beach, to the Mountain, and to... Everywhere (which is my favorite place of all).

I will be back soon... lots of reading to catch up, family to cuddle to, myself to meet and find.

Wishing you - if that's the case - wonderful vacations or just happy and awesome days. Until we "meet" again...

Yours,

Teresa

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For days now she had lain in the sun, swam and kept her mind a blank. 
She hadn't even gone back to her apartment after the taping. 
She had arrived in St. Croix with the clothes on her back. 
Whatever she needed she bought on the island. 
She spoke to no one but the crew and sent no messages back to the States. 
For a week she simply slipped off the face of the earth.

This Magic Moment

This Magic Moment

The Lady Vanishes. It was an old illusion, given a modern twist, and never failed to leave the audience gasping. 

The glittery crowd at Radio City was as eager to be duped as a group of slack-jawed rubes at a

dog and pony show.

Even as Roxanne stepped onto the glass pedestal she could feel their anticipation—the silvery edge of it that was a merging of hope and doubt glued together with wonder. Those inching forward in their seats ranged from president to peon.

Magic made equals of them all.

Honest Illusions

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By Glueballs - Own work, Public Domain, 
https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=8283189

Magic allows you to experience the impossible. It creates a conflict between the things you think can happen and the things that you experience. While some magicians would like you to believe that they possess real magical powers, the true secret behind magic lies in clever psychological techniques that exploit limitations in the way our brains work. Many of these limitations are very counter-intuitive which is why we can experience the magical wonder of the impossible.

THE CONVERSATION

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He gave a small laugh and shuffled the cards gently. 

“Mumbo jumbo, Miss Swan. A device to keep someone's attention focused 

and to add mystery to quick thinking and observation. 

Most people prefer to be fooled. Explanations leave them 

disappointed. Even most realists.”

.......


He managed to keep his face seriously composed as he stripped off his shirt. “The mind wants to believe the impossible,” he continued as he went into the bath to wash. “Yet it doesn‟t. Therein lies the fascination. If the impossible is not possible, then how was it done before your eyes and under your nose?”

This Magic Moment

Nora's Birthday,This Magical Moment

“Happy birthday!"

Ryan‟s eyes widened in surprise. Bess, still in costume, opened a bottle of champagne while Link did his best to catch the spurt of wine in a glass. Speechless, Ryan stared at them.
“Happy birthday, Ryan.” Pierce kissed her lightly.
“But how …” She broke off to look up at him. “How did you know?”
“Here you go.” Bess stuck a glass of champagne in Ryan‟s hand, then gave her a quick squeeze. “Drink up, sweetie. You only get one birthday a year. Thank God. The champagne‟s from me—a bottle for now and one for later.” She winked at Pierce.
“Thank you.” Ryan looked helplessly into her glass. “I don‟t know what to say.”
“Link‟s got something for you, too,” Bess told her.
The big man shifted uncomfortably as all eyes turned to him. “I got you a cake,” he mumbled, then cleared his throat. “You have to have a birthday cake.”
Ryan walked over to see a sheet cake decorated in delicate pinks and yellows. “Oh, Link! It‟s lovely.”
“You have to cut the first piece,” he instructed.
“Yes, I will in a minute.” Reaching up, Ryan drew his head down until she could reach it on tiptoe. She pressed a kiss on his mouth. “Thank you, Link.”
He turned pink, grinned, then sent Bess an agonized look. “Welcome.”
“I have something for you.” Still smiling, Ryan turned to Pierce. “Will you kiss me, too?” he demanded.
“After I get my present.”
“Greedy,” he decided and handed her a small wooden box.
It was old and carved. Ryan ran her finger over it to feel the places that had worn smooth with age and handling. “It‟s beautiful,” she murmured. She opened it and saw a tiny silver symbol on a chain. “Oh!”
“An ankh,” Pierce told her, slipping it out to fasten it around her neck. “An Egyptian symbol of life. Not a superstition,” he said gravely. “It‟s for luck.”

This Magic Moment

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Happy Birthday, Nora!!

 

Lingerie in Literature

Mmm…" She examined the piece herself. Silk, seed pearls at the bodice. "Probably about one-fifty."
"One hundred and fifty? Dollars?" He shook his head in disgust. "One good tug and it's a rag."

Instantly she bristled. "Our merchandise is top-quality. It will certainly hold up to normal wear."

"Honey, a little number like this isn't designed for normal." He cocked a brow. "Looks about your  size."
"You keep dreaming, Piasecki." She tossed her coat over the love seat. "The point of good lingerie is style, texture. The sheen of silk, the foam of lace. Ours is designed to make a woman feel attractive and good about herself-pampered."
"I thought the idea was to make a man beg."
"That couldn't hurt," she tossed back.

Night Smoke

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Underwear is a visually powerful tool, but how does it fare in the written word?

STYLIST

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He saw with delight that she wore those sexy thigh-hugging stockings again, this time in sheer
smoky-black. He imagined she'd considered that the black bra and panties were proper coordinates.
He thanked God for her practical mind.
"Sybill, I love what goes on under your clothes."
 

Inner Harbor