Ruby Regina Witcraft
They met, alone, in the darkened kitchen of their home while soft jazz was playing in the other room. Passion has no meeting place boundaries as their eyes met. She had visions of him sweeping the bowl off of the dining room table and laying her gently down on the cool glass tabletop. There was no mistaking the message in their eyes.
He took her in his strong, sinewy arms, gave her a longing look, a strong hug then tipped her head up with his finger tips and lovingly kissed her full on the lips. She sighed deeply, more like a moan of ecstasy, and returned the kiss that only the full pleasure of love can experience. There was no holding back now as his hands caressed her back. No novel could have described the depth of this moment in time.
She murmured, “Lower and a little more to the left.” He whispered, “Scratch right down the middle.” It was the dry skin season in Arizona and if you listened closely you could hear your skin crinkling. After a few minutes of massaging and scratching their passion was spent and they were breathless.
Love finds satisfaction in the simplest of pleasures and in the strangest places. v
The Sea Urchins
“What in the devil are you doing’?” asked Fred, the carpenter, as he came upon his son, Jerry, happily sawing into a 12-inch pine board with great determination.
“I’m buildin’ a boat, Dad, – the kind my good friend Jonah has in his backyard.”
“Hmm, does he ever take it out on the water over at Cedar Creek?” asked Fred. “If so, I’ve never seen it leave his yard when I look out the kitchen window.”
“Dad, boats aren’t just for bein’ out in the water. They’re great man-caves. They are highly secret and nobody can get onboard without a bunch of secret codes. A couple of times we had our dinner and even dessert onboard. That was really cool with nobody standing over us to tell us that we had to say our prayers first or to chew with our mouths closed!”
His comments brought back great memories of when we four kids, many years ago, built our very own boat. We cobbled together a bunch of boards from the old wood shed that had collapsed months ago, and for two days we measured and sawed and pounded nails to make our very first masterpiece of the nautical world. And I’ll never forget the blisters a few bloody thumbs either.
Little did we know that in order for it to float there could not be any cracks between the boards in order to make our boat seaworthy. When it was finished it took all four of us kids to load it onto our red Western Flyer wagon, drag it back to a small pond on our farm. We expected to experience what we hoped would be an “all aboard” whoop-and-cry as we’d head out to sea. The “sea” in this case was only 60 feet long and 20 feet wide. For its maiden voyage we launched our work of art from the wagon with great effort, the four of us grunting and groaning like old people. We stood there and looked at that boat with satisfied smiles.
There was really room for only two of us at a time but we all managed to squeeze into the boat. We had brought along two brooms as paddles. We quickly realized that we weren’t moving away from the port no matter how hard we were paddling. Small wonder: the boat instantly sank in the mud and water 15 inches beneath us. We were all barefoot so our getting wet feet was only an afterthought. Broken hearted, dejected and even swearing a little, we went home to re-think our engineering flop. We decided we’d ask Dad to take it back home for us.
Saddened, but finally just laughing at the failure of us naïve, but enthusiastic kids we came to realize that dreaming is great fun but first we’d have to have a more solid plan in the future to make it all work.
Fred told Jerry he’d get him some more lumber so he could get down to the business of building his dream boat but cautioned that he might run into a few snags along the way.
Life can be lots of fun for young kids, even with the occasional flop along the road to success. Some boats may just sink even with the best laid plans. Most of us can learn to live with that! v
Was It My Hair Cut?
Jacqueline M. Ruffino-Platt
Most of my articles I write are somewhere between my early years of which I remember and some are between yesterday and today. This story is one of those times between yesterday and today.
One afternoon, a good friend asked if I would like to have a drink at one of our Country Clubs for Happy Hour. This Country Club was quite nice and inviting. My friend is having a very difficult time for the last three weeks with more upsetting bridges to cross and decisions on the horizons to make for her and her family.
My husband was on a trip and working his way back here to our home in Sun Lakes, Arizona. A Happy Hour was in our very early forecast, in fact, right around the corner to imbibe in a tall refreshing, delicious decorative drink. We entered a rather upscale cocktail/restaurant parlor with a cozy atmosphere. The hostess led us to a table out of the midst of busy patrons coming and going. My friend needed the solitude to express some of her thoughts and ideas she was facing in the next couple of months.
The server came to our table to take our order, he was friendly, kind, and very courteous while we pondered about our drink choice and if we wanted something to eat. Our drinks arrived, tall ones of course. Our choice of appetizer was a pizza. Humm, quite an appetizer. Through our sipping and chomping I discovered my drink tasted a little different. Different from my normal acquired taste of liquor. Called our kind server and asked, “What liquor is in this drink?” … he answered, “The one you ordered.” My friend agreed and said … “That is what you asked for.” Okay, I know after a sip or two I thought I would know the difference. Even so, the change was delicious and so, I ordered another of the same.
My friend and I continued to have a delightful visit. The scene outside the window was the setting sun glistening on the lake with ducks gathering up their loved ones before sunset.
However, I was kind of taken by the attention I was receiving from gentlemen who were sitting in the booths a few seats away and could not stop staring at me. One couple left after their meal and another one slivered into the same booth. Again, I was being gaped at with a continuous and determined stare. I began to chuckle a little and thought maybe I still have that charisma. Then I thought hummm, maybe it is my new hair cut. My hair cut was not any different than I normally get. My style has been the same for some time. Maybe my hair was glistening in the sunset from the windows and bounced off my hair. “Oh come on Jacquie. Get a hold of yourself.”
I mentioned to my friend of all the admiration I was receiving and she hadn’t noticed ‘cause she was sitting with her back to others and when she turned around she hadn’t noticed anyone staring. Kidding, I said … “Maybe it is my hair cut.” … She responded, … “No I really don’t think so … “ maybe it is the TV screen you are sitting under which is playing a golf game with Tiger Woods,” which the men notice, … not my beautiful hair. I have to get over myself. We laughed so hard and still telling everyone about this misunderstanding and my embarrassment. One thing I do believe, “My hair cut was far better than Tiger’s.” v