Ransom

If ya make um all walk the plank, wouldn't ya have an empty ship?

^ A good friend, with good intentions. < Now my basket is full indeed. V Ever find the Pub a font of support?

^ Wine, cheese, Greek olives, good crackers, something sweet for desert. < Don't try to type when you've had too much wine to drink! V Drown your sorrows in alcohol, or something non-toxic?

To all who have expressed sympathy for my situation, I thank you from the bottom of my heart. Only someone who has "been there, done that" can know what a gut-wreching decision this is. I cry at the drop of a hat (like now), but know in my heart it is the right time. I thank you all for your concern. It means more than you know. R

"Give her a minute, Cat. She needs to come back to the world of air and land." Silkie stood dazed, trying to get her mind away from where she had been. The seal skin still hung over her shoulder like a dead animal. I touched her on the arm, trying to focus her attention. "Silkie, you might want to put that skin in the haversake, before the rest of my crew starts asking question. They're all spooked enough as it is. Then you can tell us what happened on the Relentless and where she is." Silkie's eyes slowly started to change from the animal to the human.

Trying not to think too much about the fact that my husband and I are finally going to either sell or give away our last two horses. We just don't ride that much any more, and want to travel more. Don't want to spend my "golden years" limping around with a blown-out knee or hip, 'cause I got kicked, or fell off. I've had horses for 30 years, so it's a major life change. I start bawling every time I thnk about it, even though I know it's the right time. **sigh, sniffle, sniffle**

^ My Gap jeans, T-shirt, boots or heels. < I live in jeans and T-shirts/sweatshirts, so every now and again, it's nice to get really dressed up and go out somewhere. Doesn't happen too often, but when it does, it's fun. < As far as weird relatives, I'm directly related to Benedict Arnold and Aaron Burr, and distantly to Henry the VIII through his last wife, Catherine Par. Nice little rogue's gallery, wouldn't you say? V Like to put on the dog, or don't want to bother?

Where even the checker at my local Staples Office Supply greets me with "Hi, pirate lady."

As Sterling was literally hauled out of the room by Marsh, I lost all patience with the situation. I turned to Sebastian, who stood seething with fury. "What the hell is he so afraid of? That Marsh fellow didn't give them any time to speak at all." Having been persued by the law once or twice myself, I knew it had to be something life-threatening for the man to leave just when he might have the chance to salvage the relationship with his wife. "Sebastian, besides you, who wants that man dead?"

Tea Just done reading all me Pub birthday wishes Darlin' Jacky T, wishin' me a happy BD All those going to Port Washington, WI. soon. Jealous I am! Thinkin' hummm. maybe?

Yes, what a party indeed.

Wedding showers? Baby showers? BORing. Hell, I'd rather go to the guys batchelor party. But, a nice roudy wedding reception is a whole nuther story! Let the dancing, eating and drinking begin!

Lucrecia Borgia

^ Has the most fun signature smilies and more.

^ Bone dry gin martini with double olives. < Sometimes it would be nice to have a secret identity. Although, some people don't know I'm a pirate on the side, so I guess that might be concidered a secret identity. V Intrepid explorer, or home body?

I went to the cabinet, poured a generous glass of brandy, and handed it to the man. At least it gave me somthing to do. "As there have been no introductions, my name is Ransom. If you need more of that," I pointed to the glass, "I'll get it for you."

I looked quickly at the man named Marsh. "What ails the man? He looks ready to drop dead." Then I looked toward Sebastian's sister, and she looked just as ill. The two needed to talk, that was certain. But whether Sterling would return to do so was not so certain. Sebastian, soothed his sister in words I could not understand. For the first time in a long while, I felt totally out of my element, and helpless. I did not like the feeling.

It was all I could do to keep silent. Sterling was acting like a spoiled child deprived of sweets. If he left, there was no way Sebastian or his sister would listen to further pleas. the man would lose wife and child. Without thinking, I blurted out, "Think of your child sir. Do you abandon both wife and child?"

The tension in the air was palpable and thick. Sebastian was tense, and his voice cold. All I could do was watch and wait. Sterling seemed on the point of collapse. I could tell, as far as Sebastian was concerned, the man could fall down dead. Cautiously, I placed my hand on Sebastian's arm, hoping the gesture would not anger him further, but ask silently for calm.

I have seen several examples of artists joining together to make artist's journals. It involves a group of maybe 10-12 artists, each with their own blank book. They decorate the cover and the first two to three pages. It is then rotated among the rest, who each embellish two to three pages with their artwork. At the end of the prescribed time, each artist ends up with a book containing work from all the other participants. There is usually a theme. Naturally, this one would by pyracy, which leaves the subjects for artwork wide open - anything from tropical islands, to pictures of parrots. The mediums used could be anything from rubber stamps, stencils, clip art, to photographs. With the stipulation that it be a medium based work, not word based, although words, and quotes could be included in the artwork. IT WOULD INVOLVE A COMMITMENT. Books would be forwarded on in rotation either by month, or 1st and 15th of the month. If once a month, you wouldn't get your book back for a year. If the 1st and 15th, it would only take six months, which is the time frame I recommend. To be brief. 12 artists max. Books passed on the 1st and 15th, gives each artist at least two weeks to do two to three pages. Keep the books fairly small - such as the easily available black, 9" x 6" ring-bound artists sketch books. These fit easily into a mailing envelope and would make forwarding the books on to the next artist relatively cheap. All books would be in rotation at the same time, so all books would be finished at the same time. I would also suggest we keep it to artist within the US and Canada, due to the overseas mailing expense. Once the rotation started, the project would become closed to any late comers wanting to join in. So, anyone out there interested? I think it would be a fun project, that would leave each participant with a great keepsake. Ransom

Once his sister had slipped past the door, I turned to her. "I cannot leave him to face this danger alone. Stay here." Swift as the hawk he named me for, I returned to the room, standing by the closed door, waiting to see what Sebastian would do. I still held my pistol, but kept to the side of the bed, where the draperies shielded me from view. So, this was the mysterious, and apparently, un-killable Captain Sterling. He looked ill, furious, and not in the mood for conversation. His man, intent on soothing his obvious temper, had little effect. I didn't know enough French to understand all of what Sebastian had said, but his tone told me volumes. Feeling bolder, I stepped forward into the room, pistol still cocked, and addressed Sterling. "It appears, sir, that you are missing a spouse. Did it not occure to you to wonder why she fled you, rather than bursting in upon her and demanding her presence? It seems a poor way to gain a woman's favor."

A splash of water made me look over the side, fearful someone else had fallen overboard. For an instand, I thought the lack of sleep, worry, and fatique were affecting my brain, for I could have sworn I saw a seal with some kind of pack on its back, the strap in its mouth like a bitted horse. I shook my head as the seal dissappeared under the serface, but then it reappeared closer to the ship. "What the..." Then it hit me. Could it be Silkie, come from the Relentless with a message? As the seal came up alongside, I called to Red Cat. "Oi, Cat. Come look at this seal and tell me if you think it might be Silkie. Maybe we won't have to go looking for the Relentless. Maybe we'll have a guide. If you're right about something bad happening, then we don't want to waste time looking all over the ocean for her if we don't have to."

^ Has two lovely children. His daughter has eyes just like dad - lucky girl.

So, do we get to see some pictures of Herself in her garb - dazzling all the mundanes?

The sound of heavy footfall in the hallway woke us. It was not the quiet stealth of Sebastian's men. At the first pounding on the door, we were out of bed, pulling on clothes and grabbing weapons. At the second pounding on the door I turned to Sebastian, beautifully descheveled, who was standing at my side, pistols drawn. "I'm going to assume, despite his asking about his "mari", that this is not some irate husband who thinks you have absconded with his wife for a night of frivolity. So, do we open the door and see who it is, or do we just fire through the boards and ask questions later?"