Lisa Lynne
Bio
If you're reading this, welcome to 'my' page. At 50-something, I have a few things to share. I look forward to telling some stories, and reading some, too. Here's to not dying with our stories still inside us.
Stories (4)
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Road Ram-blings
I’ve often agreed with the characteristics attributed to my astrological sign - Aries, the Ram, the first sign of the Zodiac – one of the three fire signs. Descriptions of the signs’ traits appear in many places: online; in quirky metaphysical shops where you can buy incense and Wiccan tools; head shops; any given greeting card aisle. Ever found one in a beer bottle cap? I have. Am I a believer? Well, I’m not, NOT a believer. I don’t live and die by a horoscope, but I do admit to being a “leap before I look” and “get out of my way and follow me” kind of gal.
By Lisa Lynne5 years ago in Wander
Ram Ramblings
Heading home from South Padre Island a few days ago, we rolled to a routine stop at a Border Patrol checkpoint. An officer approached to ask our citizenship and destination, taking a cursory look into the vehicle at the two ladies in front, two teen ladies in back, and one lady dog on the center console. Being the Southern hospitality goddess that I am, I asked if Robert Crunk was on duty (not knowing for sure if he was on a shift or if this would even be his post), but before the officer could process my question, some sort of warning sound emanated from the device in his hand; he glanced at it, and in a slightly less routine manner he looked at all of us and asked "Have any of you had a major medical procedure recently?"
By Lisa Lynne5 years ago in Wander
Prattle and Titter
When you think of Hollywood in the 1930’s, one of the first things that comes to mind is “fashion revolution”. Gone were the flappers and Jazz Age looks of the 20s; this new era brought sleek, form-fitting, full-length and bias-cut skirts into style. Suddenly everyone seemed to shimmer, in silks and velvets decorated with beads and diamante stones. One or the other of the girls turned out in a glittering backless sequin-covered gown, and the others quickly followed suit. Fashion historians credit the bigger names with all things innovation, but it was more home-grown than that, at least at first. Word was, a shop opened right between Hollywood and Beverly Hills, where a talented dressmaker with a penchant for sparkle took up residence in the early 30s. Someone said she came in one day on a train from the mid-west, with nothing but a suitcase and a little black book. Now SHE would have been someone worth interviewing.
By Lisa Lynne5 years ago in Humans
Under the Rainbow
Seneca stared unflinchingly across the open space where her fence had, until that morning, stood the usual six feet high. She had never seen the adjacent backyard. Only the thick photinias had ever been visible, sentinels above the shared fence line, adding to the illusion of privacy between neighbors. She had sometimes heard splashing in the sweltering afternoons, and feminine laughter in multi-generations floating her way on a hot wind. She thought now, on reflection, that she’d heard the unmistakable jumbled sounds of a party – clinking glasses, muted music from somewhere in the house, garbled voices talking over each other – a handful of times in the six years she’d lived here. And once, about two months ago, she had caught the strident, angry rhythms of an argument reverberating from within the walls next door.
By Lisa Lynne5 years ago in Horror
