Wayne Gray

She's jealous of the instant pot. Oh, sweet, glorious caffeine. Thank you, for reinstalling my brain.

And I'm terrible. @BHopper2started it!

I struggled with how to spell "yay" earlier. I definitely need coffee. Stay warm, tim. Maybe make something nice and hot to eat for lunch today.

Yes. I’m helping! Yay!

Poached eggs over leftover rice make a pretty nice breakfast.

Mine does shop. He just needs to go again. We were both mourning the lack of creamer, so I know we'll have some tomorrow. ☕

There's no creamer. I don't think it can get worse. Pray for me.

Morning. I need coffee, breakfast, and a hot number to serve them to me. FYI anybody is hot if they have coffee and food they’re handing to me.

You're so sweet, molly. Thank you. HEA is allowed in my stories, but our heroes have to work for it! There will definitely be stuff to read from me. Hang on to your hat!

Well, that's good! Though I'm getting better all the time.

Thanks, tim. 🙂 Don't worry, there's more to come from me.

I'll think about what that might look like. Thanks. 🙂

You got to see a little of what makes me tick in my blog entries, but that doesn't feel like a fair trade. This was raw and real and emotional. I get that it's semi-autobiographical, but the emotions are close to your heart. Thanks, tim.

Thanks, tim. 🙂 No, this is just my memory of something that happened years ago. I wrote it out, so people understand a little more about me. Plus, it helps me to understand myself when I go through this exercise. I never really thought of my life as interesting, but I'm glad this was somewhat entertaining for you.

Oh, you can do it. It's just a step by step process. You're a writer! That's wayyyy more painful than cooking!

I have a feeling that was a quote.

If you like bluegrass (it's newer stuff, clean and pretty sound) at all then listen to this one.

Saturday afternoon arrived, and with it came a distinct eagerness. Corbin smiled as the big white truck drove toward him. He waited at the intersection of the highway, his, and Paul's roads. The sun shined bright on him and the day had warmed nicely. The big machine came to a stop in a hiss of hydraulics and the crunch of wheels on gravel. The driver side window descended. "Howdy." The driver, a rough-shaven forty-something man, nodded to Corbin. "You're the one who paid for this load, and f

Ahem. https://www.thefreedictionary.com/preceptive Edit: God, I'm such a bitch!

"Okay, are you seriously not going to tell me?" I lay in bed with Greg. He hadn't planned to end up tangled in sheets with me that night, but I can be terribly convincing if a man let me kiss him. I chuckled, and his hand rubbed my chest gently. "Come on." He tried to work me, but it wasn't necessary. I had wanted sex, he gave it to me, so I'd reward him. "Fine." I took a breath, and he grinned. Greg wriggled a little closer, and now his forehead was under my arm, while the limb draped around him. ___________________________ I left for the ferry terminal immediately after the officer released me from the scene. My weekend was over, there was no way that I could have a good time after what had happened. I boarded the ferry, and I stood at the very front of the boat. It wasn't a popular spot. Even in May, the water was cold, and the fog which lay over it made everything clammy and uncomfortable. I stared out over the water as the ferry cut through the bay, back toward Bremerton, where I had left my car. An hour later I got into my car, and I drove to Bangor sub-base. I parked, and walked up the stairs, up the hill to my BEQ. Oh, sorry. That's short for Bachelor Enlisted Quarters. It's where all of the single enlisted folks lived if they chose to stay on base. I went inside, sat on my bed, and let my mind circle around what had happened in Seattle. I didn't move until my back began to hurt. I looked at the window, and it was dusk. I had sat there for hours. I hadn't eaten at all, and yet I wasn't hungry. I felt sick with stress, assured of my future discharge. I picked Senior Chief Coleman when the officer gave me the choice. Senior was the highest-ranking enlisted sailor in my command - a man who didn't take any sort of shit from anybody. He was harsh but fair - a by the book NCO. Ugh, I keep doing that. A non-commissioned officer. Anyway, he would do what I knew needed doing. I chose Senior, because I knew, deep down, that man in Seattle was right. I should repent. I should be punished. I should suffer. I didn't have the right to be in the US Navy, I didn't deserve it. Sunday came and went. I don't remember much of it. I think I ate something, just because I started to feel weak and shaky. Monday arrived. I showed up early, and I sat right in front where we held our morning muster. Senior Chief led it, and I awaited his judgment. 'I wonder if he'll say something in front of everyone.' My eyes were blank as I thought. 'Probably. They're all going to find out. They'll know, you're a liar, a faggot, and not worth being a sailor. You deserve it.' People began to show up, and they took seats around me. I interacted only when I had to, returned greetings, and nodded hello. Senior Chief entered, the room settled - even the commissioned officers who officially outranked Senior quieted in his wake. 'Straighten up. Fucking look at him.' I took a breath, and I sat up, put my shoulders back, and raised my eyes. Senior Chief had these fantastic, ice blue eyes. They glanced at mine when I moved, but then he looked over the room. "Good morning. First thing, there were four calls last night, and our on-duty EMT and EVO are exhausted. I'm sending them home to rest. Cane, Gray, you two are filling in on the rig. Gray, you've got EMT, Cane is driving." He looked at petty officer Cane, got an affirmative nod, then one from me as well. The rest of the muster passed with minor business, and messages from the weekend duty crew. Then we were dismissed. 'Oh shit. Maybe they didn't send it. Maybe the report was lost.' I wet my lips, stood up to leave and turned toward the door. "Gray." I stopped, my back still to Senior Chief. My heart hammered in my chest, and I faced him. "Yes, Senior?" "My office." He strode from the room, all business. A few of the departing enlisted looked at me, curiosity in their eyes. Dread crawled like a cold snake down my spine to settle, and twist in my gut. I walked down the hall, stopped at Senior's door, and I knocked on the doorframe. He motioned me through the open portal, those pale eyes stayed on mine. "Close the door." I did. "Sit, Gray." His voice was strange. It had a tonal quality I had never heard him use. There was both softness and iron in it, all at once. I sat in the extra chair, my gaze on his desk. There, a carbon-copy of the police report lay, and I closed my eyes against the nausea I felt. He leaned forward. "Gray, I have some questions. Can you handle that right now?" I frowned and looked at him. I didn't expect him to ask my permission to question me. I nodded. He looked down at the paper, then back up to me. "First, are you all right? Did he hurt you?" I blinked. "I'm fine, Senior. He didn't hurt me." "Good." Senior's eyes narrowed, and half of his lips lifted in a dangerous smirk. "I read the report, but I want to hear it from you." His countenance became eager. "I want to hear it from your lips, how you took down that strung out bastard." I gaped. "Uh, I ..." I swallowed. "Senior, aren't you going to report me?" He never looked away from my face. His hand crumpled the yellow copy of the report, and he threw it into the garbage. "Report you for what?" I floundered. "Senior, I," there was no comprehension possible in that moment. "You'll get in trouble if anybody finds out." He set his jaw and stood up. "Fuck em." Senior shook his head. "You do a good job. I don't fucking care where you dip your wick." He stood there until I met his eye. Then he sat down in his seat. "Now," he leaned back in his chair, "tell me how you kicked that motherfucker's ass."

I don't think I can say this better, so I'll just echo tim.

Man, it's worth posting stuff on GA just to read the comments. 😋

Corbin's strange little phone lay on his nightstand and began chirping its alarm at six a.m. Paul woke and turned off the machine. He eyed Corbin, but the blonde man slept through it. He smiled. 'Good. You need the rest.' Paul lay back down and scooted up against the smaller man. The air in the cabin was chilly, but there next to Corbin and under the blankets he was toasty and warm. He knew the fire had died down, and that it would need to be revived. He'd get to that in a bit. For now, he w

https://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=Pluviophile There it is. The exact, unambiguous word to describe my love of the rain. Also, you're a brat @droughtquake!

Thanks, Mac. I think there are some things that just stick to us, and they help make us who we are. Everything does, but this had an outsized effect on me. It made me cautious, suspicious (in certain situations), and observant.