So the other night a poster on a message board gave me a brilliant idea. She thought I should write a blog on the people you run into on the web, and I took it a step further and queried a magazine and wouldn't you know it, I heard back right away from a magazine interested in the premise. The idea is for me to follow several boards (I already do) and basically write about the posters. Obviously, I won't use real names. So I prepared a little questionaire for anybody who would like to help me out. We are lucky on this board that we have a pm feature, so nobody would have to worry about their email address. However, if you would prefer, I've set up a disposable email address to send to. The address is messageboardlori-survey@yahoo.com Please answer the questions in whatever way you interpret the questions to mean. Obviously, there is no right or wrong way. Again, no names will be used. If I need to use a name I'll make one up. I thank you all in advance for your help. Here are the questions:
1. Who are you?
2. How old are you?
3. Where do you post from?
4. Why do you post?
5. What is your favorite website?
6. What is your favorite all time thread?
7. How many people have you met in person after meeting on a message board?
8. How long have you been posting?
9. How many boards do you regularly post on?
10. Tell me something you want me to know.
Thursday, December 11, 2008
Friday, December 5, 2008
Twas The Night Before Christmas
I took this and adapted it to fit a message board that I post on. Enjoy.......
'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through JKL,
Not a poster was stirring, not even Snetta or Mel;
The stockings were hung by Chatter with care,
In hopes that the Administrator soon would be there;
The regulars were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads;
And Awish in her 'kerchief, and Appa in his cap,
Had just settled down for a long winter's nap,
When out in the forum there arose such a clatter,
We all sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the Misc. Posts we flew with a crash,
Tore open the thread and read the news flash.
The wording on the post by the veteran member,
Gave the lustre of brilliance to this dull December,.
When, what to our wondering eyes should appear,
But Dakota, the moderator to make sure we adhere,
With the little ol Ray guy, so lively and quick,
We knew in a moment it must be a limerick.
More rapid than Paul his rhymings they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;
"Now, Yoduh now, Holly! now, Maui and Reenie!
On, Mixy! on Red! on, Lilbit and Evie!
To the top of the posts! to the top of the forum!
Now reply away! reply away! reply away with decorum!"
The posters vary from witty to different versions of ghosts,
The more the replies, the longer it stays at the top of Today's Posts,
A hit of the Quick Reply as our fingers start stumble,
If it's News Politics and Issues, then we're sure to hear Mambo.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof,
The trolls and their rants getting a digital *poof*.
As we laughed in our head, and were turning around,
Down the chimney Dakota came with a bound.
She was dressed as an orchid, from head to foot,
And her leaves were all tarnished with ashes and soot;
A bundle of Cautions she had flung on her back,
And she looked like a forum paddler just itching to whack!
Her eye (only one) -- how it twinkled!
Her moderating how merry!
Her rhetorics were like roses,
her advice never scary!
Her moderations were all drawn up in a Christmas bow,
And the posters waiting for gifts like children lined up in a row;
The avatars of the shoe girl she held tight in her back pocket,
As the smiles of the posters took off like a rocket;
She had a broad paddle and a big wide grin,
That meant that the fun was only about to begin.
She was chubby and plump, her jolly old self,
And we laughed when we saw her, in spite of ourself.
A wink of her eye and a twist of her head,
Soon gave us to know we had nothing to dread;
She typed not a word, but went straight to her work,
And filled all the stockings with homemade cards;
Then turned with a jerk,
And laying her finger aside of her nose,
And giving a nod, up the chimney she rose;
She sprang to her sleigh, to her friends and posters she gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard her exclaim, ere she drove out of sight,
"MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ALL, AND TO ALL A GOOD-NIGHT!"
'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through JKL,
Not a poster was stirring, not even Snetta or Mel;
The stockings were hung by Chatter with care,
In hopes that the Administrator soon would be there;
The regulars were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads;
And Awish in her 'kerchief, and Appa in his cap,
Had just settled down for a long winter's nap,
When out in the forum there arose such a clatter,
We all sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the Misc. Posts we flew with a crash,
Tore open the thread and read the news flash.
The wording on the post by the veteran member,
Gave the lustre of brilliance to this dull December,.
When, what to our wondering eyes should appear,
But Dakota, the moderator to make sure we adhere,
With the little ol Ray guy, so lively and quick,
We knew in a moment it must be a limerick.
More rapid than Paul his rhymings they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;
"Now, Yoduh now, Holly! now, Maui and Reenie!
On, Mixy! on Red! on, Lilbit and Evie!
To the top of the posts! to the top of the forum!
Now reply away! reply away! reply away with decorum!"
The posters vary from witty to different versions of ghosts,
The more the replies, the longer it stays at the top of Today's Posts,
A hit of the Quick Reply as our fingers start stumble,
If it's News Politics and Issues, then we're sure to hear Mambo.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof,
The trolls and their rants getting a digital *poof*.
As we laughed in our head, and were turning around,
Down the chimney Dakota came with a bound.
She was dressed as an orchid, from head to foot,
And her leaves were all tarnished with ashes and soot;
A bundle of Cautions she had flung on her back,
And she looked like a forum paddler just itching to whack!
Her eye (only one) -- how it twinkled!
Her moderating how merry!
Her rhetorics were like roses,
her advice never scary!
Her moderations were all drawn up in a Christmas bow,
And the posters waiting for gifts like children lined up in a row;
The avatars of the shoe girl she held tight in her back pocket,
As the smiles of the posters took off like a rocket;
She had a broad paddle and a big wide grin,
That meant that the fun was only about to begin.
She was chubby and plump, her jolly old self,
And we laughed when we saw her, in spite of ourself.
A wink of her eye and a twist of her head,
Soon gave us to know we had nothing to dread;
She typed not a word, but went straight to her work,
And filled all the stockings with homemade cards;
Then turned with a jerk,
And laying her finger aside of her nose,
And giving a nod, up the chimney she rose;
She sprang to her sleigh, to her friends and posters she gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard her exclaim, ere she drove out of sight,
"MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ALL, AND TO ALL A GOOD-NIGHT!"
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
This is the last of this story. I'll write another story for tomorrow if I get the chance.
He was standing outside the old school house when the kids came barreling out the door chattering excitedly and squealing with pleasure at the end of the school day. They were free now to play, laugh, and run to their hearts content. As the last two little girls came walking out the door whispering behind their hands to each other and giggling, they tossed curious looks in his direction and giggled again as they jumped off the porch and ran toward their classmates. Rico peeked in the doorway and watched her clean the board. He was content to just watch her gorgeous backside sway as she moved her arm back and forth cleaning the blackboard. He allowed himself to enjoy the view before she felt his eyes on her back and turned to see him smiling lazily at her.
“Is there anything I can do to help you?” He asked her lazily.
“You startled me, and no thank you. I’m finished for the day.” She answered a little self consciously, as she bent behind the big teacher’s desk and opened the bottom drawer to pull out her purse. She took a moment to compose herself and slowly put her purse strap over her shoulder and he intently watched her every move. “I’m ready when you are.” She said standing up slowly and meeting his eyes.
“Let’s go.” He said as he reached out and took her arm in his while simultaneously removing the keys from her fingers as they approached the door. He held the door open for her as she passed through. Then closing it firmly he placed the key in the keyhole and locked up the classroom for the night.
“I’d like to walk up the hill,” he told her as they started strolling through the platana on their way out of the center of the village. “I started walking this way this afternoon and I spotted a camp of gypsies. There were two small children. I’m guessing they don’t go to school.” He said questioningly.
“No, the gypsies who come through here are usually from Romania and come here via Belgrade. I always try to get to know the families and see if I can convince them to let their children attend classes for a while at least. Sometimes the families are open to the idea and others are not quite so supportive,” She explained a bit nervously.
They strolled in comfortable silence up the hill toward the old house at the top of the field until they got to the spot where he had seen the gypsy children and their settlement just a couple of hours ago. When he got to the curve in the road where the children had popped up out of the bushes. He stopped and gripped her elbow and turned her to face the area where he had seen the camp. They stood silently as he pointed in the direction he had observed earlier.
She peered through the growth of brush and bushes and spotted the camp set up. They stood in comfortable companionship and watched as gypsies went about their business of setting taking care of their camp, while waiting to catch sight of the children. Suddenly about a dozen children ranging from toddler to young teenagers came running around one of the trailers, squealing in delight at the game they were playing.
As he watched her delight in watching the children, he suddenly felt as if he had been punched in the stomach. For the first time in his life, he felt the desire to have children of his own. He knew that just having children would not be enough, he knew that he wouldn’t be satisfied until he had children with this particular woman. This woman that he had known for less than twenty – four hours. What was wrong with him? What had gotten in to him? Why would he be having these fantasies about children and marriage and Zorka? How could this be?
His mother had always told him that someday a woman would come along that he wouldn’t be able to resist and when the right one came along he would know it. He had just assumed he was meant to be a lifelong bachelor. Not that he didn’t like the company of women. He did. He had been involved in many relationships over the years. He had come close to proposing once, but the words of wisdom from his mother kept coming back to him, “When it’s right. You’ll know.” He had never understood what that meant. Now he knew. He knew with everything fiber in his being, that Zorka was the woman for him. But how could she be the woman for him? They live a fourteen hour flight apart. It wasn’t like he court her, and win her heart. How do you date somebody that literally lives on the other side of the world? Her life is here in Serbia, his is in the United States of America. He suddenly felt very old and very sad. Wouldn’t you know it…. After all of these years, he falls in love, and it’s with the completely wrong woman. He knew that he had had no choice in the matter. She was his destiny, his soul mate.
He shook the thought out of his head and resolved to spend as much time as possible with this love of his life as he could during the next few weeks. He would make enough happy memories to last him a lifetime. He would bring her as much pleasure as he could. He would have pleasure of knowing that he does love deeply, and that he will do whatever it takes to make Zorka’s life the best life she can have. He loved her enough to want only the best for her, and he had to admit to himself, that sadly, he was not the best for her. He could never ask her to give up her family and her life and move half way around the world with him.
He managed to avert his eyes just before she turned toward him. “I wish they could come to school. The world is changing. Even here in the hills of Serbia it is becoming necessary to have an education. They need to be able to read and write. They need to know how to do simple math and count money.” The words rushed out of her fervently. She blushed somewhat shyly, as she caughter herself getting passionate about the children. He thought she was adorably charming in her passion.
He wished he could see her eyes sparkle and her cheeks flush with a passion turned in his direction. He wanted that passion turned in his direction. He shook his head to bring his thoughts back to the here and now.
He grabbed her hand in his and gently guided her back to dusty gravel road and continued up the hill. “There is a small cottage at the top of the hill.” He told her, “Do you know if anybody lives there?”
“Baba Mira lives up there.” She answered quickly. She had caught the look in his eyes before he turned away and was confused by what it meant. It was a very deep and personal look with a hint of sadness. She had to wonder if she had done something to upset him.
“Do you think she would like some company?” He asked curiously?
“Oh can we go see her?” She asked him excitedly. “We haven’t seen her come down the hill in a few weeks, and I’ve been concerned about her. I have been meaning to get up there to see her. She’ll be happy to see us.”
He held on to her hand as they traveled in comfortable silence the rest of the way up the mountain.
“Baba,” she called quietly as they walked up to the door, “Baba Mira? Are you here?”
“Zorka? Is that you little Zorka?” They heard a weak voice call from inside the cottage.
“Yes, Baba. It is me Zorka. I have a friend with me. “Kum Rico is with me. He’s here with his Baba Nada. Kuma Nada came to visit Uncle Andrej and Tete Mila.” She gushed as they were approaching the last few steps to the old weathered door.
Rico’s eyes strained trying to adjust to the dim light in the little cottage. . It was a square room with a rustic ladder leading up to a loft. There was an ominous black wood stove for cooking against one wall, flanked by dusty shelves, covered in cobwebs on each side. There was a rough square table and two obviously handmade chairs in the middle of the room, and nothing more.
This was a million times worse than he had even imagined. He suddenly stopped at the horrible thought that suddenly pushed its way through his brain. “Where is her bathroom?” He meekly asked her.
“It’s around back,” her eyes twinkled with amusement.
“You can’t be serious!” he exclaimed.
“Oh, but I am.” She intoned, not even trying to conceal her laughter.
He couldn’t imagine this sweet little lady living up here by herself with no running water and an outhouse. “What does she do for water?” he asked skeptically.
“She has a barrel set up outside to catch the rainwater. It rains a lot up here so she catches and funnels the rainwater. As long as she boils it in the kettle on the wood stove the water is potable.” She explained patiently to him, noting his incredulous expression.
“But she’s really old. How old is she? How can she do this all by herself? Does she have any family to help her out?” He demanded.
“It is getting harder for her, and she’s in her late 80s. Her only son has passed away and her two granddaughters have moved away. One lives in Belgrade now and the other moved to the United States. My friends and I take turns checking in on her. She’s pretty independent though and doesn’t like to be fussed over.” She continued trying to set his mind at ease at the same time trying to convince herself that it really was going to be alright.
“Baba? You don’t look well. What’s wrong?” Zorka asked lovingly as she went to the old lady laying on her bed, too weak to get up and greet her unexpected guests. Zorka reached out her hand and felt the old woman’s forehead. When she felt the heat and perspiration on the wrinkled, leather like face, she got immediately worried. “Baba? What is it? You aren’t well?”
“I’ve been down to the doctor. I’m going to be alright. The doctor gave me some antibiotics and some other medicine. He says it’s pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis.” Baba answered weakly trying to raise up on the bed, but giving up and just reaching out her hand to pat Zorka’s arm comfortingly.
“Pneumonou what?” Zorka asked trying to wrap her tongue around the very large, very foreign word.
“Pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis,” Baba Mira repeated.
“pneumonoultramicro?” Rico tried to repeat.
“Say it slowly.” Baba instructed. “pneumono”
“Pneumono,” Zorka and Rico repeated together.
“Very good. Now add “ultra” to it.” The older woman instructed. “Pneumonoultra”
“Pneumonoultra,” the two younger people repeated diligently.
“Very good. Now add ‘micro’”, She continued. “You’ll have pneumonoultramicro”
“Is there anything I can do to help you?” He asked her lazily.
“You startled me, and no thank you. I’m finished for the day.” She answered a little self consciously, as she bent behind the big teacher’s desk and opened the bottom drawer to pull out her purse. She took a moment to compose herself and slowly put her purse strap over her shoulder and he intently watched her every move. “I’m ready when you are.” She said standing up slowly and meeting his eyes.
“Let’s go.” He said as he reached out and took her arm in his while simultaneously removing the keys from her fingers as they approached the door. He held the door open for her as she passed through. Then closing it firmly he placed the key in the keyhole and locked up the classroom for the night.
“I’d like to walk up the hill,” he told her as they started strolling through the platana on their way out of the center of the village. “I started walking this way this afternoon and I spotted a camp of gypsies. There were two small children. I’m guessing they don’t go to school.” He said questioningly.
“No, the gypsies who come through here are usually from Romania and come here via Belgrade. I always try to get to know the families and see if I can convince them to let their children attend classes for a while at least. Sometimes the families are open to the idea and others are not quite so supportive,” She explained a bit nervously.
They strolled in comfortable silence up the hill toward the old house at the top of the field until they got to the spot where he had seen the gypsy children and their settlement just a couple of hours ago. When he got to the curve in the road where the children had popped up out of the bushes. He stopped and gripped her elbow and turned her to face the area where he had seen the camp. They stood silently as he pointed in the direction he had observed earlier.
She peered through the growth of brush and bushes and spotted the camp set up. They stood in comfortable companionship and watched as gypsies went about their business of setting taking care of their camp, while waiting to catch sight of the children. Suddenly about a dozen children ranging from toddler to young teenagers came running around one of the trailers, squealing in delight at the game they were playing.
As he watched her delight in watching the children, he suddenly felt as if he had been punched in the stomach. For the first time in his life, he felt the desire to have children of his own. He knew that just having children would not be enough, he knew that he wouldn’t be satisfied until he had children with this particular woman. This woman that he had known for less than twenty – four hours. What was wrong with him? What had gotten in to him? Why would he be having these fantasies about children and marriage and Zorka? How could this be?
His mother had always told him that someday a woman would come along that he wouldn’t be able to resist and when the right one came along he would know it. He had just assumed he was meant to be a lifelong bachelor. Not that he didn’t like the company of women. He did. He had been involved in many relationships over the years. He had come close to proposing once, but the words of wisdom from his mother kept coming back to him, “When it’s right. You’ll know.” He had never understood what that meant. Now he knew. He knew with everything fiber in his being, that Zorka was the woman for him. But how could she be the woman for him? They live a fourteen hour flight apart. It wasn’t like he court her, and win her heart. How do you date somebody that literally lives on the other side of the world? Her life is here in Serbia, his is in the United States of America. He suddenly felt very old and very sad. Wouldn’t you know it…. After all of these years, he falls in love, and it’s with the completely wrong woman. He knew that he had had no choice in the matter. She was his destiny, his soul mate.
He shook the thought out of his head and resolved to spend as much time as possible with this love of his life as he could during the next few weeks. He would make enough happy memories to last him a lifetime. He would bring her as much pleasure as he could. He would have pleasure of knowing that he does love deeply, and that he will do whatever it takes to make Zorka’s life the best life she can have. He loved her enough to want only the best for her, and he had to admit to himself, that sadly, he was not the best for her. He could never ask her to give up her family and her life and move half way around the world with him.
He managed to avert his eyes just before she turned toward him. “I wish they could come to school. The world is changing. Even here in the hills of Serbia it is becoming necessary to have an education. They need to be able to read and write. They need to know how to do simple math and count money.” The words rushed out of her fervently. She blushed somewhat shyly, as she caughter herself getting passionate about the children. He thought she was adorably charming in her passion.
He wished he could see her eyes sparkle and her cheeks flush with a passion turned in his direction. He wanted that passion turned in his direction. He shook his head to bring his thoughts back to the here and now.
He grabbed her hand in his and gently guided her back to dusty gravel road and continued up the hill. “There is a small cottage at the top of the hill.” He told her, “Do you know if anybody lives there?”
“Baba Mira lives up there.” She answered quickly. She had caught the look in his eyes before he turned away and was confused by what it meant. It was a very deep and personal look with a hint of sadness. She had to wonder if she had done something to upset him.
“Do you think she would like some company?” He asked curiously?
“Oh can we go see her?” She asked him excitedly. “We haven’t seen her come down the hill in a few weeks, and I’ve been concerned about her. I have been meaning to get up there to see her. She’ll be happy to see us.”
He held on to her hand as they traveled in comfortable silence the rest of the way up the mountain.
“Baba,” she called quietly as they walked up to the door, “Baba Mira? Are you here?”
“Zorka? Is that you little Zorka?” They heard a weak voice call from inside the cottage.
“Yes, Baba. It is me Zorka. I have a friend with me. “Kum Rico is with me. He’s here with his Baba Nada. Kuma Nada came to visit Uncle Andrej and Tete Mila.” She gushed as they were approaching the last few steps to the old weathered door.
Rico’s eyes strained trying to adjust to the dim light in the little cottage. . It was a square room with a rustic ladder leading up to a loft. There was an ominous black wood stove for cooking against one wall, flanked by dusty shelves, covered in cobwebs on each side. There was a rough square table and two obviously handmade chairs in the middle of the room, and nothing more.
This was a million times worse than he had even imagined. He suddenly stopped at the horrible thought that suddenly pushed its way through his brain. “Where is her bathroom?” He meekly asked her.
“It’s around back,” her eyes twinkled with amusement.
“You can’t be serious!” he exclaimed.
“Oh, but I am.” She intoned, not even trying to conceal her laughter.
He couldn’t imagine this sweet little lady living up here by herself with no running water and an outhouse. “What does she do for water?” he asked skeptically.
“She has a barrel set up outside to catch the rainwater. It rains a lot up here so she catches and funnels the rainwater. As long as she boils it in the kettle on the wood stove the water is potable.” She explained patiently to him, noting his incredulous expression.
“But she’s really old. How old is she? How can she do this all by herself? Does she have any family to help her out?” He demanded.
“It is getting harder for her, and she’s in her late 80s. Her only son has passed away and her two granddaughters have moved away. One lives in Belgrade now and the other moved to the United States. My friends and I take turns checking in on her. She’s pretty independent though and doesn’t like to be fussed over.” She continued trying to set his mind at ease at the same time trying to convince herself that it really was going to be alright.
“Baba? You don’t look well. What’s wrong?” Zorka asked lovingly as she went to the old lady laying on her bed, too weak to get up and greet her unexpected guests. Zorka reached out her hand and felt the old woman’s forehead. When she felt the heat and perspiration on the wrinkled, leather like face, she got immediately worried. “Baba? What is it? You aren’t well?”
“I’ve been down to the doctor. I’m going to be alright. The doctor gave me some antibiotics and some other medicine. He says it’s pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis.” Baba answered weakly trying to raise up on the bed, but giving up and just reaching out her hand to pat Zorka’s arm comfortingly.
“Pneumonou what?” Zorka asked trying to wrap her tongue around the very large, very foreign word.
“Pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis,” Baba Mira repeated.
“pneumonoultramicro?” Rico tried to repeat.
“Say it slowly.” Baba instructed. “pneumono”
“Pneumono,” Zorka and Rico repeated together.
“Very good. Now add “ultra” to it.” The older woman instructed. “Pneumonoultra”
“Pneumonoultra,” the two younger people repeated diligently.
“Very good. Now add ‘micro’”, She continued. “You’ll have pneumonoultramicro”
Monday, December 1, 2008
Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Through weakness and strength, happiness and sorrow,for better for worse, I will love you withevery beat of my heart.
The hours of the afternoon stretched on as Rico waited impatiently until the time he could be in her company again. He chided himself for his foolishness. Here he was thirty-eight years old and he was acting like a fourteen year old boy with his first crush. When he wasn’t with her he thought about her. When he was with her he wanted to be closer to her. He thought about her, dreamed about her, yearned to be with her. Damn, the afternoon was dragging on. One more hour until he can see her again. He had to get out, to stop the daydreaming and do something productive. Rico decided to take a walk toward the hills to pass the next hour away.
Rico spotted the old cabin up high on the hill sitting by itself. He decided to walk up and check it out. Rico was lost in thought imagining a pair of gorgeous blue eyes when a rustle in the bushes off the side of the road startled him. He suddenly stopped in his tracks and listened. First it was just a slight rustling and then he heard a soft giggle. Then a dark head popped up out of the bushes and were quickly followed by a second head of dark hair and dark laughing eyes. The two small children giggled at him and the scurried away back into the brush.
His eyes followed them to a camp set up. There were wagons and tents set up on the side of hill, partially hidden from the road he walked on by the bushes. These must be gypsies he thought to himself. Being from the United States he knew about gypsies, but had never had the opportunity to see real, live gypsies up close and personal.
He glanced at his watch and realized he had spent too much time pondering the gypsy children and decided he didn’t have enough time to finish his walk up the hill, so he turned back to go meet Zorka and walk her home. He planned to convince her to invite him to dinner tonight, since he and Baba were going to be gone for a couple of days, he wanted to spend as much time as possible with her, so that she would miss him while he was gone. Where had that thought come from? He chided himself. He was only here for a couple of weeks. He had his career in the United States and she was here in Serbia, what good was it going to do either of him for her to miss him? Or him to miss her?
Their lives were so far apart and so different that he couldn’t let himself get involved with this woman. Besides she was just a child. She had her whole life ahead of her. What would she want with a middle aged man like him? “Get a grip on yourself!” He ordered himself impatiently.
Through weakness and strength, happiness and sorrow,for better for worse, I will love you withevery beat of my heart.
The hours of the afternoon stretched on as Rico waited impatiently until the time he could be in her company again. He chided himself for his foolishness. Here he was thirty-eight years old and he was acting like a fourteen year old boy with his first crush. When he wasn’t with her he thought about her. When he was with her he wanted to be closer to her. He thought about her, dreamed about her, yearned to be with her. Damn, the afternoon was dragging on. One more hour until he can see her again. He had to get out, to stop the daydreaming and do something productive. Rico decided to take a walk toward the hills to pass the next hour away.
Rico spotted the old cabin up high on the hill sitting by itself. He decided to walk up and check it out. Rico was lost in thought imagining a pair of gorgeous blue eyes when a rustle in the bushes off the side of the road startled him. He suddenly stopped in his tracks and listened. First it was just a slight rustling and then he heard a soft giggle. Then a dark head popped up out of the bushes and were quickly followed by a second head of dark hair and dark laughing eyes. The two small children giggled at him and the scurried away back into the brush.
His eyes followed them to a camp set up. There were wagons and tents set up on the side of hill, partially hidden from the road he walked on by the bushes. These must be gypsies he thought to himself. Being from the United States he knew about gypsies, but had never had the opportunity to see real, live gypsies up close and personal.
He glanced at his watch and realized he had spent too much time pondering the gypsy children and decided he didn’t have enough time to finish his walk up the hill, so he turned back to go meet Zorka and walk her home. He planned to convince her to invite him to dinner tonight, since he and Baba were going to be gone for a couple of days, he wanted to spend as much time as possible with her, so that she would miss him while he was gone. Where had that thought come from? He chided himself. He was only here for a couple of weeks. He had his career in the United States and she was here in Serbia, what good was it going to do either of him for her to miss him? Or him to miss her?
Their lives were so far apart and so different that he couldn’t let himself get involved with this woman. Besides she was just a child. She had her whole life ahead of her. What would she want with a middle aged man like him? “Get a grip on yourself!” He ordered himself impatiently.
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