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14/50: The Tate.
“How you doin’?” asks Tate when I arrive at the Starbucks counter. “Never better. How you doin’?” I wink at him, chagrined that I actually just winked at HIM. “When do I get to take you out on a date,...
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16/50: Anya and Jillie, end of the liquid lunch. um. a bit more candid. fyi!
“I’m not going to sleep with a boy that half the company sees on a daily basis. Besides, you know why I don’t sleep around.” “I know, but why do you keep thinking that every man who shows the...
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24/50: Jillie’s vertigo and visual hallucination episode. this needs more...
“I have had a couple of bouts of vertigo over the last two days,” I said to my boss after organizing my buzzing legs into a professional crossed position. He leans back in his chair, with an...
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37/50. black Saturday fiction. everything hurts. (spoiler alert, this is a...
Jillie awoke that morning, stretching off the night before, feeling somewhat euphoric when she realized she had the day off from work. She stretched her arms over her head, pleased to find that she...
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38/50. car ride. Jillie and Anya.
Jillie and I pile into her beat up turquoise Honda Civic, circa, 1979, and we are off to meet with her second neurologist to review the results of her latest MRI and extensive blood work. She is...
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43/50: Western Rock Medical Center.
thanks everyone for following along! you have no idea how your Likes and Follows make me smile and warm my heart!! so thank you! here is the last post of the weekend. in the homestretch now. seven...
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Jillie. more fiction.
“I‘m broken,” she cried. “You’re not broken, you’re amazing. And I don’t know how anyone could do what you’re doing. I wouldn’t be able to do it.” I replied with a pain in my heart. “My mom, tried...
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on writing.
I dreamed of writing the outline for my chick-lit novel this morning. was at a work lunch. seated to my left was one of my former colleagues, whom I still see every now and then. (btw, she shows up in...
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unblocking.
in turtle steps. one of my friends threw out a first sentence prompt on Friday. in Facebook land. “take the first sentence of the post below mine, and write a paragraph,” she instructed. hell yes, was...
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fiction #8? the bookstore. Jillie finds the first book that might help.
“Ann Boroch?” I repeated as I stared numbly at the title of the book in my hands, Healing Multiple Sclerosis. “Do you think it’s a hard ‘k‘ sound? Or a swoosh type finish? OR is it like chai tea?” I...
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