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Millie Noe | August 20, 2017

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Sons du les Bitches

The Ruby Marie

July 30, 2017 |

the-ruby-marie-cover
My cell rang.
I pulled it out of my pocket, looked at the name and let it go into voicemail.
“Please God, just let me listen to this message.”
All I have to do is look at a call and my phone dials the number.
Good news.
I got to the part where I had to type in my secret password.
Bad news.
My secret password is so secret that I have a hard time remembering it.
But that morning I tried my birth date.
It worked.
I listened to the recording.
“Millie, I want to thank you for saving my life last night,” I heard Big D. say in his slow and easy voice, right out of the deep dark yonder. “You have no idea what I might have done if you hadn’t come along. Someday I would like to buy you a cup of coffee. God Bless you.” Read More

If You Can’t Be With the Toes You Love, Love the Toes You’re With

May 29, 2017 |

toes-morrie-millie
This is a story of a day where nothing really goes right and nothing really goes wrong.

I needed new glasses.

“What’s that Louisa?”

You will have to excuse my sister. She is always interrupting me.

“Yes Louisa, this is the pedicure day story.”

I have been wearing, bent up, Sponge Bob Square Pants bifocals at the office for the past ten years.
And every so often a person has to make that call and set up an appointment and get a new prescription, especially when that person is having a difficult time telling the difference between threes and eights and her job is all about reading numbers and her job does not exclude certain numbers, just because she is having difficulty reading them.

“Your eyes have changed quite a bit since your last visit,” says my doctor.
“A lot has changed since my last visit,” I answered. Read More

Another Case of Mistaken Identity

April 2, 2017 |

another-case-of-mistaken-identity
I paid for my gas at the pump on that cold morning in November before the sun was up, and went inside to buy a cup of coffee.
That is when it all began.
“Hello,” she says.
“Hi,” I answer, pushing the button on the dark roast carafe, getting high on the aroma.
It wasn’t my fault that I was addicted to the stuff.
While so many had made New Year’s Resolutions that they would never keep, I’d decided eleven months prior that I was going to stop in every Friday morning at that particular gas station and buy myself a cup of that really good coffee, instead of brewing my own at home.
I wanted to be able to keep my resolution.
I did. Read More