Today's Confession...

I don't know how to ride a bicycle. Sure, I did the cute bike with shiny ribbons hanging out the handle bars thing. With training wheels.

But the day those training wheels came off, I was racing around the neighborhood with friends. I had an unfortunate accident, going flying over the handle bars and landing *splat* on the pavement... That was it. Try as they might, my parents could not get me back on that bicycle.

It never really bothered me. My friends and I weren't really the bicycle types, preferring softball and she-ra dolls. Action figures. Whatever you want to call them.

I very happily went through life knowing that if I was ever on the Amazing Race and they had a bicycle challenge, I'd be screwed. I wasn't missing anything.

I went on my honeymoon in Hawaii and, sure, it would have been cool to bike down a volcano. But the idea of doing that much physical activity, at least of that kind, at 3 AM was a major turnoff. So I didn't feel like I was missing out then either.

Or any time since then...

But one of these days, my little guy is going to want to ride a bike. He loves his little bicycle to pieces. As soon as we get up to my parents' house, after collecting hugs and kisses from nana and papa and doggie kisses from Rosie, he runs right for the bike.




Excitedly screeching "my bike-icle," he runs the thing up the driveway, hops on board and careens out of control to the bottom. He giggles uncontrollably all the way down and all the way back up.

He can play on that thing for hours! Rain or shine, no matter what else is going on. It won't be long before he moves on to a real bicycle.

And when that day comes, for the first time, there's going to be a large part of me that wishes I knew how to ride a bike...

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Check out the other Theme Thursday bicycle posts here.

The Draft

She turned away from the computer. Something like this required more of a personal touch. Raising her pen to her lips, she chewed on the end thoughtfully.

This moment shouldn't have come as a surprise to either of them. They had a good thing going in college. But time and distance had driven a wedge between them that love alone couldn't conquer.

Living together this summer taught her a lot. She wore his ring on her finger, but her heart firmly resided with another. She couldn't marry Jeff and couldn't find the right words to tell him.

His insecurity had been palpable. He hid her mail, deleted her phone messages. He checked her email, read IMs over her shoulder. They fought bitterly as he tried to control her every action. Where he used to make her feel so safe, she now dreaded being in his presence. Leaving their apartment each day freed her.

Returning from her internship at the end of the day, it was an effort to walk through the door. Her chest got tight. Panic attacks struck frequently. There was no way this could be her life.

She was so grateful when the summer ended and she returned to school. Safely 10 hours away, the tightness in her chest loosened. For the first time in months, she felt like she could breathe. The relief she felt with each mile she put between them solidified the inevitable.

It was over.

Putting pen to paper, she began to write. The words flowed freely as she poured her heart out onto those pages. One page quickly became seven. Signing her name with a flourish, she stopped to survey her work.

The draft was disjointed at best, incoherent ramblings filling the pages. She alternated between anger and sadness. Rage and pity. They had both taken a risk with each other after the trauma of their past relationships. She never wanted to hurt him but couldn't bear hurting herself any longer.

Slowly, she slid his ring off her finger. No tears fell. It felt right. Like a weight had suddenly been lifted, she felt lighter than she had all summer.

Taking the draft into steady hands, she tore it to shreds. Her hand reached for the phone a split second before it rang. Knowing it was him before a single word was spoken, she answered, "Jeff, we need to talk."

The conversation pained them both. When they hung up the phone, they may have both been heartbroken. But they were free - to find happiness, to find the one they were meant to be with and to find a happily ever after they were never meant to share together.

___________

This week's theme was "draft." Check out the other Theme Thursday posts here.

Angels & Demons: the Lipstick Killer

This is the conclusion of the "Angels and Demons" story I started on Tuesday. If you want to read the first part, click here...

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We’re coming to you live from outside the Harbor Pointe Hotel in Avalon. Tragedy has befallen this small town where for the first time in history, a murder occurred within its borders. Police are here at the scene actively investigating the crime. They will not release the name of the victim, pending notification of next of kin.

Details are sketchy are this point, but this reporter has learned that the crime occurred in one of the guest rooms on the 12^th floor of the hotel. The victim, a presently unidentified male, was found bound at the wrists and ankles to the bed approximately two hours ago by a hotel employee. Police were overheard discussing the distinct markings the victim had on his body.

These same unusual markings were found on four other bodies within the past six months. The perpetrator of these crimes is still at large. Were they all committed by the same individual? Do we have a serial killer on the loose? Could the “Lipstick Killer” be hunting her next target here at the Jersey shore? The police currently have no answers to these pressing questions. We will continue to report on all aspects of this investigation until the killer is found and brought to justice. This is Elizabeth Fine for Channel 12 news. Back to you in the studio, Larry.

Liz smoothed her blond bob behind her ear, satisfied with her performance. She had broken the story of the year – a possible female serial killer at large in their area! Each of the bodies had been found sprawled on the bed, discovered by a very surprised hotel employee. The bodies all had been bitten on the right shoulder. Given that the men, all married, were meeting at obscure hotels in the middle of the day, that piece of evidence was hardly cause for concern. It was the imprint of a red lipstick kiss on the thigh that caused wild speculation for the media.

Liz had dubbed the perp the "Lipstick Killer" and the moniker stuck. She prided herself on her coverage of these crimes and, of course, on the details she was able to finagle out of the cops. As much as she enjoyed the glare of the cameras and the thrill of being on-screen, Liz loved the hunt best - finding the best story and always trying to be one step ahead of the rest of the jackals. Normal investigative routes bored her, so she relied on her favorite means of bribery, blackmail and seduction.

Not that she needed any of those tricks tonight...

The hotel doors flew open, snapping Liz out of her reverie. Liz sent her photographer flying to the entrance to snap off some shots of the coroner wheeling out the body. Though his identity hadn't been revealed yet, Liz's reliable sources confirmed that the victim was a local cop. The cop had been one of her sources. Detective James Jones fed her particular delicious morsels for her stories.

He had been a tough one to crack, Liz remembered fondly. His wife had dough, so the attempted bribery went nowhere. His record was also squeaky clean. Blackmail went out the window. She had just about given up on the officer when he approached her... She had been working her magic on some new recruits when Jones stormed into the station. He commanded her outside, walking in silence through the parking lot to his cruiser. Once inside, the good detective offered up an enticing proposal. He would slip her prime info on the crime beat in exchange for a little afternoon delight twice a month. Liz snapped up the unexpected opportunity immediately and a satisfying symbiotic relationship developed.

Very satisfying indeed.

Her detective had recently paid another visit to Aberdeen, a suspected Lipstick Killer crime scene. Jimmy had called her all hopped up. His excitement was palpable as he confided that he discovered some new evidence which he hoped would crack the case.

Liz cheered his discovery and planned to meet him the next day for lunch. In an effort to minimize the risk of being discovered, she had concealed her trademark bob under a wig. Jones gazed longingly at her, her little black dress leaving little to the imagination as they dined at the cafe just off the lobby in the Harbor Pointe. Liz and the detective kissed passionately in the elevator all the way to the 12th floor. And there in room 1251, Detective Jones discovered just how close he was to catching the Lipstick Killer.

Unfortunately, being bound and naked on the bed, he was unable to reach for his weapon when she drew hers. Liz moaned at the memory of her teeth sinking into his skin, the taste of his blood in her mouth. When she had her fill of the fun and games, she killed him quickly, snapping his neck in her hands. Stepping back to survey her handiwork, Liz reapplied her lipstick. She kissed her prey goodbye and slipped from the room unseen. When the police arrived to investigate, Liz was there, eagerly waiting to cover the breaking news.

Officer Williams walked by just then. His gaze lingered a little too long on Liz's bare legs. She smiled seductively, already setting her sights on the next source. And when the good officer got too close to the truth, well, the Lipstick Killer just might have him for lunch.

Angels and Demons

The angels and demons war as a steady hand lined her eyes in black. She carefully layered smoky shades across her lids and swept lipstick across her lips, critically surveying her reflection.

The angels plead for her to turn around. One screams loudly that she had time to head home. Another insists she stop her plans immediately. At the same time, the devils encourage her onward to action, reminding her she didn't come all this way just for a quick trip to the state line.

She stepped away from the mirror long enough to slither into her black dress. It plunged low in the front, leaving little to the imagination. Loving the way the silk swirled against her calves as she moved, she began to set the scene.

In the flickering light cast by the candles and crackling fire, the angels pummel her with images...images of her husband...of her children...of her parents smiling at her, so proud as she conducted her first big on air interview. The happy pictures of her life and family flew at a dizzying pace.

These thoughts were not welcome here.

Shaking her head gently, chestnut curls tumbled over her tanned shoulders. The champagne opened with a satisfying pop. Music, soft and sultry, floated out of the speakers.

Staring at the flames, the devils tease her with images so vivid she flushed with excitement. Memories from another time, the not so distant past, left her breathless with anticipation. Waiting was never her forte and the bed loomed so large and inviting...

It wouldn't be long now.

She turned slowly at the sound of the door opening as her guest had arrived. Her painted lips turned upward in a smug grin. The first touch sealed his fate and the battle was won.

__________

Angels and Demons was a Magpie Tale. Wondering what happens next? Check back on Thursday.

What's in the Box?

So... true to form, my big mouth got me in trouble today. I was mentioning that I was light on work. That's always a dangerous thing to do... Because now it's 7:30 and I have 6 briefs I have to wrap up and get filed by tomorrow when the courts close.

I was going to revive my vamp story for this week's Theme Thursday. But now I'm lucky to be throwing this post up here. Hook me up to a caffeine IV... It's going to be a LONG night.

Ever notice how no matter how many fancy toys you get for a kid, they're often more fascinated by the box it came in? Well, my little guy is no exception.


Here he is inside the box that his retro rocket came in. You'd think he would want to race around the house on it. Instead, he proceeded to climb into the box and command the action around him from "mission control."


Ah... to be entertained by something so simple...

Something Missing at the Holidays...

In the war of who gets what holiday at their house, my mom won Thanksgiving. My grandma got the rest of the holidays. Passover has always been at my grandparent's house.

Like most other holidays, this year most things were the same as they always were... We still use the Haggadah my mother hand-wrote for the passover Seder. My family is utterly unable to pronounce the Hebrew without a lot of assistance from me and my sister. In reading the Passover story, the same words (yes, the English ones) get mispronounced. The meal is awesome - brisket and all the usual goodies.

For those of you who aren't overly familiar with the Seder, partway through, a piece of matzoh called the affikomen gets hidden. The kids all try to find it... Supposedly you're supposed to eat it as dessert, but really matzoh doesn't make much of a dessert. Whoever finds it gets a present.

My grandfather always led the Seder. He butchered the prayer over the wine. He always hid the affikomen in the same place every year... Well, I suppose that's not entirely true. There were a total of 3 hiding spaces that I remember over the course of the past 30 years: inside the microwave, the wine rack and inside the refrigerator. He would always act so surprised when we found the affikomen so quickly. And each of us, regardless of whether we found the matzoh or not, would receive a prize. (Cash usually, unless grandpa had something sparkly he wanted to dole out to his girls)

But this was the first holiday without my grandfather.

His place was set and left empty at the head of the table. I started off the Seder as the leader. I mispronounced a few words, though probably not the same ones he usually did. I juggled the reading with Andrew on my lap as he tried to fish around in a glass of water with his fork. You can see where this is going, right? I ended up leaving the table wiping water off my glasses, wishing that I had a second outfit in the car for myself because I was freaking drenched.

My dad hid the affikomen. My sister and I led our cousins and Andrew around the house, checking out all the usual hiding places... Finally, Andrew emerged victorious - drawing the matzoh out of the microwave. He was so cute waiving it around, bring it to my dad proudly yelling, "PAPA I FOUND IT!" Dad passed out a few bills to each of us as our rewards for playing along. Then Andrew ran around the house waiving his prize, "MOMMY! I HAVE MONEY!"

After dinner, my cousin was sitting in grandpa's chair playing on his gameboy. It was hard to see Matt there instead of grandpa, nodding off like he always did after the meal.

I've always loved having the family together for the holidays. Any holiday. Any occasion. But something...someone...was very noticeably absent this year.

I'm not sure how I managed not to shed any tears. It's just not the same without him.