R.P. Dahlke

My Art

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Well Behaved Women Rarely Make History

[subscribe2]I got to thinking why I so very much like reading and writing about strong women. To be honest with you, I think it’s because I’ve spent most of my life as a wimp, doing as I was told, minding my manners, saying all the right, and expected, things,  until one day
I realized being miss-goody-two-shoes was getting me exactly nowhere. Since then, I’ve been called disrespectful, annoyingly forward, and my favorite—uppity.  To make up for lost time, I now suit up as Lalla Bains, born again bachelorette, ex-NY Model, crop-duster, sometime amateur sleuth.   I might… Continue reading

I GOT TO THINKING ABOUT SPIDERS, I know, I know, they make me shudder… too many hairy legs, and the big ones…

[subscribe2]I GOT TO THINKING ABOUT SPIDERS,  I know, I know, they make me shudder… too
many hairy legs, and the big ones… don’t get me started.

On the other hand, they’re also an inspiration, so intrepid.  Look at all that work they do to get the webs made, and in the most incongruous places—like that spot from my sofa leg to the floor, and a corner of the TV to the cabinet, and the dog to his bed.

Yes, yes, the little buggers occasionally go a bit too far, and I’m not just talking about the dog to… Continue reading

I got to thinking, how far is too far?

[subscribe2]My husband has been yoddling out directions to me from other parts of the house since, oh, I can’t count the years. When we moved from our big home in California to live aboard a sailboat, I thought it might get better, what with the interior being so much smaller and all.

No such luck. After one incident, I measured the distance from the aft cabin to the foreward head—thirty-five feet door-to-door. So, I wasn’t surprised when behind the closed door of the foreward head, where my butt was happily ensconced for some alone time, I heard… Continue reading

To the moms at Thanksgiving

[subscribe2]Here’s to all the moms who decorate the house, roast the turkey, set the table, welcome family and friends to enjoy a beautiful meal and never once let the the sorrow show through because war, cancer, car and airplane accidents, drug over-doses, or genetic diseases took our children from us too soon.

I know you, I know where you are this time of year, looking at the place where your child  would’ve sat, waiting for his or her favorite cut of the turkey. We carry on, drawing on silent reserves because we’re strong women who are moms to… Continue reading

A Dangerous Harbor excerpt

[subscribe2]The sergeant,carefully ignoring anything that might keep him from his appointed task, plopped a size too-large policeman’s cap on his small head, scuttled around to the driver’s side, got in, put the car in gear and pulled out into the thick
afternoon traffic.

Katrina glanced back at Gabe, taking in his sun bleached hair flopping over the aristocratic forehead and sighed. The man actually had the audacity to look hurt.

She turned around and stared out the window, noticing the sergeant’s driving was typical for Mexico—tapping his brakes lightly at every stop sign, then speeding through, all the while keeping… Continue reading