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Bruise tattoo and strawberries

I have a bruise on my left forearm. It’s lurid in color, and larger than a silver dollar. It’s a painful bruise, and underneath it, there is a lump. I have no idea how I got this bruise, but out of the corner of my eye, as I was writing tonight, I could not help think I had gotten a new tattoo. How very Popeye of me.

When a recipe says that you need strawberries “hulled,” that just means you cut out those stems, right? You don’t then go to cut the strawberries into piece? It’s not a difficult recipe I am following, but I’d hate to screw it up from the get go.

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I find redesigning my blog very soothing.

And I needed an excuse to use my Shag font. And my favorite color. Plus, I got tired of all the white.

I’m still tweaking it. I have all the comment and archive pages to sort out.

Bravo everyone on your 50 word fictions. They are my favorite thing about Fridays, other than the fact of Friday itself. Being what it is. Traditionally.

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50 Word Fictions

50 Word Fiction Fridays Vol. 16

Today’s theme is foreign places. It doesn’t have a be a foreign country, it could be a foreign climate or culture. Miami FLA is fairly foreign to a girl from the Pacific Northwest.

International Relations

He stared at her, a force to be reckoned with, wild curls and freckled face, stars in her eyes and stripes on her shirt. She smiled at him, taking a drag on a cold soda. He acquiesced. Her engine roared as she drove across the border, trunk full of mischief.

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