Concerning My Ethnic Background

Ana/Elfie asked about my heritage/ethnic background and I’d like to answer that real fast. 😉

First off, I offer my condolences to you, Ana. Any death in the family is hard. Thankfully, no one close to me has ever died, but if you were close to your grandpa, I understand how you feel on a small scale. 😦 *hugs*

I’m, like, a buffet. A main course of American and Lebanese with Scottish, Irish, German, Native American, Egyptian (maybe not even anymore, but it’s cool to think, so let me dream), and who knows what else sprinkled in there. 😛

My mum’s American, Irish, Scottish, German, Native American, and I think there’s a couple more, but yeah.

And then my dad is Lebanese and maybe Egyptian. 😛 He was born and raised there along with the rest of his family and moved here when he was 18 with his 19 year old brother for college. 🙂 He worked for my mom’s dad for a while and then she and him got married.

I don’t look Lebanese though. I just got the big nose. <_< And the puffy lower lip. *sigh* And some royal blood. Yeah. My name also means “queenly.” Coincidence? I don’t think so. 😛

Oh! I made an owl hat (using this pattern). I gave it to my soon-to-be uncle-in-law (is that what you call ’em?). He and my aunt and their baby are the owl family. The girls got matching pink ones. ^_^ (I’m wishing I kept it now, ’cause we’re heading into 40 degree weather — don’t look at me like that. I’m a Florida girl used to 80/90 degree weather. But I’m not tan. No, I’m a pale thing. My friend told me to use blush since I “looked dead.” — She was just joking though… I think.)


And now I’m off to get stuff (not sure what, but stuff) done before the 3-day long speech and debate tournament! Exhausting, but totally worth it. 😉

January’s first round of questions will be up some time after I get back!

In the meantime, don’t die and keep your chins up! ❤

God bless!


One Year Ago Today…

…I was in Georgia. I was lounging around in bed (pretending to be asleep, I believe), enjoying my vacation, when it was announced that my grandfather had died. I didn’t know him well. I’d only met him a few times and spoken with him on the phone. He lived in Lebanon, along with the rest of my dad’s family.

deathI just remember feeling stunned. Death is a real thing. It’s not the end, but it’s real. Our bodies die. And I’d like to say I’m not afraid to die and I think I’m mostly not, but it’s something people can’t explain or tell you about, really. It’s a venture into the unknown and that scares many people. I just want to live so that when people look at me, they see hope, you know?

I don’t need apologies or anything. This post isn’t to get you to feel sorry for me or anything like that.

This post is to remind you that you never know when the end is coming. The first time I remember being in Lebanon was when I was 12. We were laughing and dancing in our party clothes because it was my aunt’s wedding. The second time I remember going was when I was 15. We cried and wore black.

Life is full of ups and downs, just like the heart monitor in hospitals. If it’s just a flat, steady line, you’re dead. And there aren’t any opportunities in death. I encourage you to life life to the full.

Do the right thing, even if it’s the hardest thing to do.

Think before you speak and act.

If you make a mistake, learn from it. If you don’t, you’ll regret it.

Know that it’s okay to make mistakes.

Apologize when you do something wrong.

Don’t be prideful. It only hurts.

I could go on, but you know the rest.  😉

I love you all so much, k? Don’t forget that. ❤

God bless!


Write Real

So we know to write honestly.

But what do we write honestly about?

For me, it’s the struggles people deal with. Self-harm, inner struggles, and, with this new novel, even domestic violence and abusive relationships.

booksThis is going to be short, because I have something very simple to say.

We read to find pieces of ourselves. To know we’re not alone. To know other people have, do, and will deal with the same pain we struggle with.

I’d like to point out the fact that while I do write about some very real issues, I don’t endorse them. Right now, in Buying Time, Thyme is a girl in an abusive relationship Eagan treats her like filth. I don’t write it because I enjoy it or feel comfortable. In fact, I feel very uncomfortable while writing some of their scenes, but honestly, people need to know this is real. It happens. It’s not right, but we need to know about it in order to know how to deal with it.

I write about wrong issues so people know it’s okay to mess up (as long as you try not to make the same mistakes 😉 ). You may have done something so wrong, you can’t stand to talk or even think about it. But you know what? We have ALL done something we’re ashamed of. The thing is to learn from it. If you don’t accept it as a lesson and learn from your mistakes, you’ll regret them.

And guys, life is too short to regret. Live, learn, and love.

God bless!



January is loving his questions, guys! Keep them coming! 😀

Patience and Introducing January

So yesterday I wrote on waiting to get an idea out there. I received a comment from a lovely lady over at the Paris Review Blog who apparently shares the same feelings I have with my novels. (Also, Ana/Eflie’s comments always make my day. Just throwin’ that out there. ❤ ) She loves her stuff so much. She has something to say. But she realizes the importance of waiting until that project is perfected before she can show it to the world.

I admire that. I think we’re all itching to say something. I’m impatient too. I have something to say and I’m like, “I gotta say it now before I explode!” But, as writers, we need to write the first draft, rewrite, edit, rewrite some more, and edit some more before out product is ready to be viewed by the world.

Since I can’t publish my stuff for a while, I have this blog. It’s my way of getting my message (whatever it may be) out to the world. 🙂

Moving on.

I’m thinking that next month, I’ll do a character interrogation – I mean question and answers session with January from the Reset. Mirriam allowed me to steal her idea. So I’m taking advantage of it. 😛 Read the interviews with Angel, Azrael, and Eristor. They’re hysterical. Whenever I’m having a bad day, I just read those and I’m better very quickly.

In case you haven’t read the Reset, here’s some snippets with January so you can get a feel for who he is. Feel free to ask whatever in the comments and we’ll begin the rounds in February! 🙂

I feel it’s important for you all to feel engaged in the blog, so this is my way of doing that since I can’t talk to you all personally. 😦 But we’ll make do!



I smile at Jan and he smiles back. “I’m willing to bet self-confidence is your best quality,” I say.

January shakes his head. “Nope. Humility is my best quality. Couldn’t you tell?”


He chuckles. “Freedom is a state of mind, stupid girl! You could have it now!”


“I think the longer you live, the shorter your Christmas list gets because you begin to realize that the things you want, you simply can’t find in a shop.” He shrugs and puffs out his cheeks.


“Now what fruits do you want?”

“All of them. Strawberries, grapes, kiwi, melon is good too. Ah, let’s see… apples! Red, please. Green is too sour for my taste.”


“You remind me of my brother,” I repeat.

Jan wipes his mouth across his sleeve. “What’s his name?”

“Well, it was Markus, but he’s long dead now.”

“Lovely thought, that,” Jan says wistfully. “I remind you of a dead man. How sweet. You know, Alias, that just really gets me. Gets me right here.” He taps his chest over his heart.


“You’re priceless. I can’t possibly spend enough money on you.”

“You could try,” he points out.


“Think twice before you say something,” I tell him.

“But it would take time and that’s not something I like to waste.”


“Man up!” I shout.

“Be nice!” he shouts back.

“Use your manners!”

“Be a woman and-”

“And what?” I sit up in bed and stare at the door, wondering what he could possibly have to say.

“And be really sweet and loving and caring and bake me some cookies.”

I throw the previous shoe’s mate after it. “I am being loving by teaching you manners,” I tell January. “It’s called ‘tough love,’ love.

I imagine he’s pouting like a four year old now. “Doesn’t seem very loving.”

“It is.”

“I’m not feeling it.”

“What? The love? Oh, it’s flowing all right. Flowing like your hair on a windy day.”

“That’s didn’t bring up a pleasant image in my mind,” January says through the door.

I snort. “Why? What’d you think of?”

“Hair in my mouth, stinging my eyes, pain.”

“Well,” I chuckle, “that’s the realistic image. Kind of like how true love is. You imagine chocolates, butterflies, and warm, fuzzy feelings, when, in fact, love isn’t a feeling. It’s a commitment. And I’m committed to teaching you manners, so just learn ‘em, boy and end my struggle.”


“So what day in January is your birthday?” I ask Jan as I unlace my boots and slip my feet out of them to walk in the sand.

He shrugs. “I don’t know.”

“So… when do you celebrate it?”

A grin spreads across his face. “All month long.”


“I don’t know what standards you have for your friends, but mine appear to be higher, because anyone who’s going to run when it gets tough was never a true friend in the first place.”


“That box is full of memories. Things of the past that I can never get back. You, my darling, are now. You are full of potential. Those relics have no future. They sit and gather dust and remind me of what I’ve done. They don’t tell me who I am or what I’ll do and you can. Actually,” he adds with a grin, “you already do tell me what to do. Quite frequently.”

So, let the questions commence! 🙂

God bless!


It’s Okay to Wait

Well, even though I was super excited to rewrite Desensitized, I think I need to put it on hold (even though it pains me to stop though it might be temporary). I need to rehash the whole plot and make it more original as well as more organized. The ideas need to flow and they just weren’t doing that.

So, I’ve learned another lesson: It’s okay to let go a little. If you think a story needs to be told, tell it. But don’t force it. It’s okay to give it some time to rest so you can come back with a fresh mind. If you have to force anything, it’s probably coming off that way to the reader as well.

Essentially, if a story needs to be told, tell it. But if it’s being forced, wait. You will have a chance to get your message out there. It just might need to wait until you’ve grown up a bit, learned more, and whatever else. Know what I mean? I think, even though many have told me I’m very mature for my age, I think I need to grow a little more. Not in height, obviously, though I wouldn’t mind a few more inches, being stuck at 4’11” – maybe 5′. 😉

I think I need to grow more as a writer, find my groove, know exactly what I want to say, and learn how to say it.

It’s okay to not know. I’m still figuring it all out. Not that I’m much to go off of or anything. 😛 I mean, really. Short, petite, 16 year old who started writing at, what – twelve? thirteen? – is gonna teach me? Haha! No. I’m not teaching anyone anything. Like I’ve said before: I’m still learning and I’ll throw out tidbits of info that I’ve found to be helpful and hope someone can benefit.

I’m not an expert.

With that said, I’m going to introduce you to the new idea I’ve started.

This is about a man who is transported from 1942 to 2016. He meets a brother and sister who work at a nightclub and they’re abused, but know no other way of life, so they just deal with it. He helps them out of the situation while buying time from another dude. This is a working title. I’m not sure I like it much.

But anyway.

I have school work to do since I’ll be at a speech and debate tournament next week from Wednesday to Saturday, but won’t get home ’till Sunday. It’s exhausting, but fun and I learn a lot.

God bless!


Analysis of Desensitized

As promised, this post is on the parallels between Desensitized and today’s world.

Self-harm: I know that there are many people who suffer with self-confidence, stress, family problems, and the like. Ashland represents those people. She takes pills to be “normal.” Think anti-depressants, mood stabilizers, ibuprofen, etc. She cuts to relieve the emotions she can’t talk to anyone about. She smokes, and she’s lonely, but covers it up with a smile, just like so many of us do.

I’m still working on it, but my hope is that people will be able to relate to her and, through her struggles, identify their problems and overcome them. Or at least give them the incentive or hope they need to begin to crawl toward the light.

Cliques and government corruption: The next thing is the Outcasts vs. Elites. In schools, work places, and pretty much every place you go, you’ll notice there’s the “cool” kids and the “weirdos” with whom no one wants to hang out. There are always cliques. This is taken to an extreme where whole societies play this game of who’s cool and who’s not.

The Elites appear to be the clean, well-mannered, white sheep in the world. They live in nice homes, have an organized government, etc.; however, they are corrupt on the inside and very racist. Basically, they’re everything they call the Outcasts out on.

The Outcasts, on the other hand, are poor people struggling to survive. They can’t help the situation they’re in and so they become calloused just to stay alive without hurting too bad. On the inside, while they appear to be tough, they’re just broken people who really have no idea how to achieve a higher quality of life.

The right to life: As many of you know, there are issues like abortion and euthanasia out there. While they claim to support people’s “rights to choose,” they’re just organizations built on lies.

Ever read the book “Animal Farm” by George Orwell? In that book, the society begins as “all animals are equal.” Throughout, the animals with the most power begin to slowly make exceptions and, by the end of the book, the above slogan transforms into, “all animals are equal, but some animals are more equal than others.”

This is one of the issues dealt with in Desensitized. I portray abortion and euthanasia as it is: murder. Real doctors save lives, they don’t end them. No one should be allowed to play God and decide who gets to live and who doesn’t. That’s sick and stupid. However, in this second draft, I’m going to try to let the reader know that no matter what, they’re redeemable. No matter what anyone’s done, if they are truly sorry, they will be forgiven.

Don’t judge. You never know what someone’s going through. This is one of the larger issues in Desensitized. The Outcast Cael looks dark, has tattoos, seems like a heartless jerk, but he’s really just a sad boy who wants to love and be loved though he’d never tell anyone that. 😉 Kody, Cael’s twin, is a fun guy who drinks, smokes, and parties all the time. He’s just trying to forget all of his pain. No one is ever the way they seem to be. Everyone has some struggle they’re going through and they just might not know how to get it out.

Faith: Ashland prays and learns to trust God. It’s not a central theme, but more of a side theme. I like to keep my novels so they reflect my faith, but also so that others won’t find it too preachy. If you don’t agree, okay. That’s fine. I’m not going to shove it down your throat, but I do have the right to freedom of speech and I’m going to act on it, regardless of whether people agree with me or not. 😉

Just a note, I will be rehashing the plot line. I’m just not sure what I’m going to do with it, yet, so we’ll see how this works. 😛

God bless!

Desensitized + Snippets

Well, I hate being without a writing project for even short periods of time.

So, I’ve taken to rewriting Desensitized. After the first book is done, I might rewrite the other two or edit The Reset, depending on what I want to do. 🙂

quoteThe next post will be a more in-depth analysis, so to speak, on the meaning of Desensitized.

If you haven’t taken a look at the overview of Desensitized, I’ll just give you a little blurb written by the hilarious and lovely Una:

“It’s not a particularly cheerful story at times.  It’s quite dark and depressing, although there’s always hope.  I’m not sure how it’ll be in this draft, but in the first draft there was some graphic imagery involving abortion victims and euthanasia.  Also, the main character – Ashland – has a self-harm problem when the story begins, although by the ending she no longer has that problem.”

As you can see, this isn’t a novel for the faint of heart. I’ve decided to write on real-life issues and tell it how it is. There aren’t many gruesome scenes, though. 😉 Some of my inspiration came from the actions of a man known as Kermit Gosnell. He committed horrendous crimes against life that even hardhearted politicians found to be disgusting.

He would sever the spines of babies, cut their limbs and place them in jars in the fridge where food would go. He would kill babies even after they had been born prematurely using different methods, including twisting their heads off.

I read this stuff and I get sick. How can people be so calloused? This is going on in today’s world and no one says anything. We turn a blind eye and let it go on.

I hope that by being sickeningly honest, my novels will open the eyes of my readers to these horrors.

Not trying to shove opinions down people’s throats, here! Just uncovering the facts. 😉 I like to let my readers decide whether or not they’ll believe in what I’m writing. If, by the end of one of my novels, the reader hasn’t at least been challenged to think about their perspective, then I will consider myself a failure.

Ain’t that pleasant?

Also, Ashland is a self-harmer. I needed her to be in order to try and help those who struggle with this as well. I want them to know they’re not alone and that there’s always a way out. I love them so very much and, while I may not be able to be there for them, I want them to know it’s all going to be okay. And I mean it. Some of my friends have gone through this struggle, and one of them quit, thank goodness. I realize, because of her, the importance of having a friend or someone to talk to when you’re struggling, so this is what I’m doing to try to help. ❤

And now: snippet time.

Corinth smirks. “Well, it’s better that I be a stalker and you be alive than me just head home and you die in the street, hm?”

“It’s debatable,” I counter, pulling my bag from his hands. He refuses to let go and jerks it – and me – closer.

“I want to hear a thank you,” he says, grinning.

“Thanks, sweetheart. I need to get my phone back and go home. I’ve got lots of studying to do.”

Corinth spreads his hands out. “I’m hurt! I just saved your life and you’re not going to buy me dinner or anything!”

“I’ll buy you three bullets,” I offer. “Dinner is something I tend to enjoy alone.”



“Is that supposed to be insulting?” Corinth raises an eyebrow.


“Did you see all the love?” I ask him with raised eyebrows. “It’s disgusting! I felt like I was intruding. Besides, everything’s cool. They got their kid back and I’ve got my homework. Everything’s just hunky dory.”


“Where are we?” I ask, attempting to sit up again.

“I said don’t move,” the older young man snaps.

“Why not?” I fire back.

“Because I said so.”

I roll my eyes. “Wow, you should be a lawyer. Where are we?” I repeat.

One black eyebrow rises. “In a cave.”

“What? You’re, like, a genius or a detective!” I gasp. “I never would have guessed!”


“Well, I’m Anna – Cael and Cole’s mom.” She jerks a finger over her shoulder to indicate the boys behind her. “Around here, we don’t complain, we eat what’s put in front of us, and we support each other. If you can’t handle that, you can go back home.”

I nod. “I can do it.”

She chuckles. “We’ll see. Now rest up. You never know when it’ll be time to get moving again.”


“Do you know what the chain of command is?” I open my mouth to respond, but he holds up a finger to silence me. I suppose it’s rhetorical. “It’s the chain I beat you with until you understand who, exactly, is in command here. Do I need to get it out? No? All right then. Get rid of those and go to sleep.”

I mentally shout abuse at him because I would never put my life out on the line by verbalizing my thoughts.


“You’ve got to be heartless!” I cry, appalled at his whole attitude. I just came over to console him, but now I don’t know why. He doesn’t want help.

Cael places his hand on my chin in an iron-strong grip. “I’m not heartless,” he growls. “I just learned to use my heart less.”

“Or not at all,” I mutter under my breath as I turn and walk away.

God bless!


The End

The end.

It’s just two words.

But it’s so hard to know when to end the story sometimes. The people you write about are so real. You never want to subject them to a “the end.” But every story must stop. At least on the printed page.

I think the end comes when you’ve got nothing left to say. When the story goal is achieved, when the message has been told, when to continue would mean to drag it out and stretch it like a rubber band ’till it snaps, that’s when the end should come.

Two words. And they’re so painful.

But if the book is done well, while the end may seem painful, it will feel complete.

And that’s how it is with the Reset.

32 days.

41 chapters. 1 epilogue.

48,154 words.

And a bunch of feels.

I don’t know what it is about my guy characters, but people seem to love them. January, Cael, Kody, Elyya… I love my boys so much. ❤

So, while the Reset is waiting to be edited, I will probably rewrite the Desensitized trilogy and it will be better. Thanks to all the help I get from my betas and Mirriam, I think this second go around will be better. The Reset flowed. Desensitized did not. But it will this time.

And before I go, I’ll leave you with a few snippets. ^_^

“What?” I squeak. “What do you want?”

“I want compensation for the blood I lost because of you,” the tattooed man says simply. He rotates his neck on his shoulders and I hear a series of pops.

I stare at the floor and bite my lip. If he takes the blood he lost, I’ll need to perform another job before the end of the month. Three dead in thirty days because of me. I lean my head back against the wall.

“How much?” I whisper.

“Half a month’s supply.”

I look up at the man sharply. “You didn’t lose that much.”

“I’m accounting for the interest as well.”

One of my hands makeup. A thousand thoughts run through my head, none of them pleasant.

I hate to be in debt, but blood and lives should not be a means of paying a price.

rubs my face and I’m sure it smears the carefully placed

“I want it by the end of the month,” the man says.

“What’s your name?” I want to know.

“Bane,” he answers. “Bane Cormac.”


“Look,” he says, “I don’t hate you. You’re messed up, and you need help. You said you wanted a friend, and it looks like I’m the only available one at the moment, so I’m sticking around for a bit.”

I stop and turn around to stare at Jan.

“Besides,” he continues, “all my nice clothes are here. You’re not going to wear the suits and top hats, so I might as well make use of ‘em.”


“If I chose anything more than bread and cheese,” January says, “I’d have to cook. And that ain’t happening. Hope you don’t mind.”


“Do you really mean everything you say about yourself?” I ask. “Or do you say it to cover up a lack of self-confidence?”

Jan’s smile vanishes and his gaze drops to the floor.

“Ah, they say fake it till you make it. I’ve been faking it since I was a kid and I say things like that, but I don’t believe it. Sometimes I’m able to lie to myself, but at the end of the day, I’m still the same broken kid.”

I pull January into a hug again.

“I changed my name a few times,” he tells me.

“Really?” I figure it’s best to let him talk. “What to?”

“Jamie, Jake, Jack, Jayce, Jackson, Jaden, Jacob.”


“I can’t save you. Only you can save yourself. I can be here for you, but you have to make the decision. You have to want to be saved and until then, no one can do much to help you.”

I nod and, as I think about it, it makes so much sense.

“So basically, we limit the help we receive.”

January pats my cheek twice. “That about sums it up, darling. Now I want to practice my reading. You want to choose the book?”


Everyone within earshot turns to look at us.

“What’s wrong?” I ask him.

“Smoke!” he wheezes. “It’s killing me! And you!” He points a finger in the smoker’s direction.Top of Form

I cover my mouth to hide a smile as Jan narrows his eyes at the man whose face is a deep cherry red. The man drops the cigarette butt on the ground and crushes it with his heel. January straightens and nods once. He tugs on his coat and grabs my arm. We hurry down the street with our ice cream.

I giggle and look up at the young man who winks at me.

“Saving lives one hack at a time,” he says.

“I doubt if he’ll stop on your account,” I tell him. “Sorry to burst your bubble.”

“Well, I opened his eyes to the danger, so there.” He sticks his tongue out at me. I smile and lick my ice cream as it begins to drip over the side of the cone.


January had fallen over and was just lying on the ground like the world had ended.

I nudge him with my foot.

“Get up.”

“No,” he replies.

I have the sudden urge to kick him. “Get up,” I repeat.


“Why not? Your clothes are getting ruined. Now stand up before someone tramples you.”

“Who’s going to trample me?” he moans as he stretches his hands into the air before letting drop to the pavement. “We’re in an ally way.”

I look around. “Oh. So we are. But that’s worse, see? Now your clothes are completely ruined. Look at all the rubbish strewn on the ground.”

January raises an eyebrow only a little so it’s barely noticeable. But then his face falls and he just stares up at the grey sky and sighs.

“Just let me die here,” he whispers. I crouch down beside him.

“What are you talking about?” I poke his side. He curls up in a large ball, hugging his side.

“Don’t touch me,” he cries. “Just leave me alone.”

“Why? What’s wrong? Are you hurt? Shall I chase those hooligans and make them apologize?”

“No,” he breathes, his eyes closed tight. “Just- Alias-” January looks up at me and I see something close to pain in his eyes. “My ice cream – it’s dead. So leave me to die with it. Please. Bury me by my park bench, if they’ll let you.”

I slap his face and laugh. “January- January Whatever-Your-Last-Name-Is, get up and come on. I can’t believe you! You’re such a drama queen.”

He hops to his feet, grabs my shoulders, and shoves me back against the wall of a building.

“Never – never – assume you know the pain of a man who has lost his ice cream,” he hisses. “And don’t call me a drama queen. If anything, I’d be a drama king.”

God bless!



I got my upper braces off today!!! 😀

It’s Not the Word Count that Counts

So, I’m nearing the end of The Reset.

Right now, it’s 47,551 words long. I have 2,449 words left to go to make it to 50,000 – the length of a full novel.

I’m on the last (maybe second to last, depending on stuff) chapter and I’m worried that I won’t meet the word count.

But I have to keep reminding myself that writing isn’t about the word count (unless you’re NaNoing it). It’s about the message. What are you trying to say? Figure it out and say it. Don’t waste time adding unnecessary scenes (I have yet to master this). It will only bore the reader and take away from the story. Think of all the fighting scenes in the Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey. I was so disappointed. The action took away from the plot and become monotonous.

So I think I shall try to stop worrying about the word count and simply write what matters.  Because, in the end, that’s what really counts.

Plus, I can always edit. That may add and take away words and scenes. It may lengthen or shorten the novel. Just say what needs to be said and it’ll turn out wonderfully. ^_^

God bless!


Chatterbox: Food

I was having an e-mail conversation with the lovely Mirriam Neal yesterday and I let her know that I had almost accidentally typed “food” instead of “good” to which she responded “‘good’ and ‘food’ can be easily interchanged.” I wholeheartedly agree with this statement. 🙂

If you don’t know what Chatterbox is, check out the Inkpen Authoress blog. 😉

And now here is a snippet from Chapter 13 The Reset. This takes place just after Alias meets the lovely January.

“What time do you need to get back home?”

“I don’t,” I answer. “You got any place to be?”

He shakes his head. “I got no place to go, except the places I want to be.”

“Sounds nice.”

“It does, doesn’t it?” Jan stares off into the middle distance, his voice thoughtful.

“You hungry?” I ask him. “Can I take you out for supper?”

He raises an eyebrow. “Did you just ask me out on a date?”

I shake my head. “No. I asked you if you wanted some free food.”

He spreads his hands out. “Hey, I’ve never not accepted a free meal. But what’s the catch?”

“No catch. Just food.”

“Unless, of course, we eat fish. In which case, there must be a catch for there to be food.”

I laugh as I stand and stretch my legs. “True. Now where would you like to go?”

God bless!