Bad Girls And Dangerous Women

Mysterious Women

Mysterious Women

Are any of you out there fans of “dangerous” women? Well, it seems that many of you really do love to read true crime stories about these bad girls. Men, as well are fascinated with female crime, and can even admire these particular criminals’ bravery in unusual circumstances.

Over hundreds of years, women who didn’t fit the mold have behind their real life stories for us to either marvel at or be totally shocked by. We are fascinated by women who have acted as assassins and spies, women who cross-dressed to enter into the male world, women who were famous mistresses, or even lived as pirates.

There have always been women of every culture and religion who have defied the attitudes imposed on them because they were “only” women, and proved that they can be just as calculating, ruthless, and deadly as their male counterparts.

Some worked outside of their culturally created limitations to do good deeds. They fought in wars dressed as men, or were dropped behind enemy lines to spy for their country. Some even commanded ships.

Somehow, “bad” women seem more shocking to some than dangerous men. There is an image we have been conditioned to unconsciously believe, that women are weaker than men, are always nurturers, are naturally kind, never as cunning. Some believe even that it’s wrong for women to behave like men.

Many true life stories about some very strong although sometimes frightening women have managed to survive and find their way into the history books so that we can all enjoy reading about them.

If you would like to read true stories about women who broke the mold, click here.


Growing Toward

Growing Toward

Growing Toward

A clarity of thought and feeling comes upon me these days regarding what has become, of it’s own volition, a transition to a new stage of life. In July I will turn 65. Over the last 3 years, the physical evidence of aging has grown impossible to deny.

I remember one day catching sight of my forearm turning, and seeing tiny crepey wrinkles across my arm, just like my grandmother had. At the time I felt frightened, and went on a nutritional crash program, detoxing and loading with every anti-aging nutrient I could find. To no avail. My skin is thin, soft now, and delicate, not the resilient covering of a woman beset with the demands of childbirth. Age marked me with its inexorable advance.

Grasping at last the futility of resisting the irresistible force, I made the effort to get outside of my youth worshiping culture and take a look for a hidden goodness in God’s design for us humans. In the last few months I have found it. Slowly I enjoy a growing insight into the goodness of this natural event.

I am a grandmother. I remember the great love I had for my grandmother. Like me she was a tiny, round woman. Her arms and lap were warm pillows and her love and wisdom and steadfast faith in Jesus were a fence around my troubled life. Though immaculate and neat as the proverbial pin, she was not concerned with how she looked, or if she was retaining her youth, or Lord help us! her sex appeal!

Now certainly my hat’s off to any one who can retain their youth. But I have decided I am comfortable with this, and I embrace it. There is a great freedom knowing the fevers of my younger days are behind me now. What is available to me of late, such as never before, is a fresh strength of focus within my spiritual life. As I prepare to enter the last laps of my journey, I fly fast now, unfettered by the turbulent emotions of my younger days. Relief and release emerge, endowing me with a freedom I’ve not known.

My body is getting older, wearing out, while I, who resides therein, am getting wise, growing in detachment and focus. I figure at most the Good God may give me another 15 to 20 years. What I hope to show my children and grandchildren is the grace that flows from rejoicing in every stage of life, and celebrates the pleasures and peace of being an elder – the easy, loving detachment possible from cooling of the fires that burned me in my youth. I discover with delight, I truly suffer no desire to live past than my allotted 4 score and 10.

Carolyn Blake’s Blog

Carolyn Blake

Carolyn Blake

Welcome to my little blog. Five years ago I adopted a precious teen-aged Romanian boy, and later inherited his wonderful brother. In the last year I have embarked upon supporting this exciting  journey by learning all I can about producing  income online. I can say that persistence pays off!

Writing has become lucrative and I produce web content, edit books, write eBooks, and publish on Kindle. I also create, design, and maintain WordPress websites. 

Of course I miss my beloved America. I remember well the beautiful land – Texas, Arizona, Minnesota, the lakes, mountains, and the trees in the Fall.  I miss the easy social atmosphere  and the rich culture. But this opportunity to come to intimately know another people, and learn their traditions and way of life is something not to be missed.


I now live in a small town in eastern Romania, and every day is a grand adventure. I teach conversational English here and my life is profoundly enriched by my colleagues and students. I never, ever get used to the wonder of waking up in my new homeland every day.  Now my task is to master the beautiful Romanian language.

Thank you for stopping by.