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And it doesn’t even have to be Calgon. It could just be any old bubble bath. Or not.

Can you tell my mind has been wandering since I read the “prompt” for day two of the Writing 101 / Blogging 101 / Writing University month-long exercise?130802-063417

And what better place for a writer type person to drift off to mentally than the place I spent virtually every weekend last summer.

The porch of a haunted hotel on a lake up in the northeastern part of the state.

Forget the fact that there is a whole host of information about the place. And forget the fact that there is family history for me there as well.

Reality is that this place … haunted or not … was one of the most peaceful places I could want to go.

Okay. Except for the early morning guy who insisted on waterskiing up and down the lake at 7AM.

And the typical Saturday afternoon / evening wedding receptions.

And the Sunday afternoon biker rallies.

courtesy Jackie Moravcik

courtesy Jackie Moravcik

And when the Beach Club burned down.

And the occasional onslaught of a convention of sorts.

And …

You know. Now that I think of it. The place wasn’t so quiet at all.

Except for early in the morning when I would sit out on the porch shortly after sunrise … coffee in hand … laptop in lap … feet on footstool … and body in wicker chair.

They started calling it “Holly’s Chair” because I was always in it in the morning. In the quiet.

Oh, except for the occasional moan of someone with a hangover looking for the complementary coffee in the fireplace room.

Yeah. That was fun.

All right. So it wasn’t so quiet … usually. And it wasn’t so calm … hardly. And it wasn’t so peaceful … mostly.

But it was grand. And I’d love to be there again this summer. Now all I need is a spare few thousand dollars. What did I do with that money anyway?

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