<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8" standalone="yes"?><rss version="2.0" xmlns:atom="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" xmlns:content="http://purl.org/rss/1.0/modules/content/"><channel><title>Nametag on Gromet's Plaza Archive</title><link>/tags/nametag/</link><description>Recent content in Nametag on Gromet's Plaza Archive</description><generator>Hugo</generator><language>en-us</language><lastBuildDate>Sat, 30 May 2026 20:13:46 +0000</lastBuildDate><atom:link href="/tags/nametag/index.xml" rel="self" type="application/rss+xml"/><item><title>No Place for Pets 2: Becoming Her Owner</title><link>/stories/2014/06/23/no-place-for-pets-2-becoming-her-owner/</link><pubDate>Mon, 23 Jun 2014 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2014/06/23/no-place-for-pets-2-becoming-her-owner/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;(story continues from &lt;a href="noplaceforpets.html"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;No Place for Pets&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/a&gt;)&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Chapter 2: Becoming Her Owner&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;The sounds of sizzling back bacon filled the still morning air. It was early the sun having barely been up for more than an hour. Jim enjoyed this peaceful time, when the old farmhouse was still and quiet. He had always been an early riser. For as long as he could remember he had been getting up to go for an early morning run. Country life had quickly grown on him. Unlike the hustle and bustle of the city, he could go outside and breathe nothing but pure clean air. It was a welcome improvement over the smelly fumes and honking of cars. Come to think of it he could not remember the last time he saw a car on his morning run, which wasn&amp;rsquo;t surprising when their closest neighbour was 15 kilometres away.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>My Summer Of Dares 4: Property Of Dana And Tracy</title><link>/stories/1/01/01/my-summer-of-dares-4-property-of-dana-and-tracy/</link><pubDate>Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/1/01/01/my-summer-of-dares-4-property-of-dana-and-tracy/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;(story continues from &lt;a href="mysummerofdares3.html"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;My Summer Of Dares 3: The Therapy Pool Chair&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/a&gt;)&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Part 4: Property Of Dana And Tracy&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Before the girls dropped me off at my house with my new teenage dress, (apparently on loan from Tracy), she turned in her front seat and applied some foundation to my cheeks to cover the marks still apparently visible there. The girls were quite good with makeup these days, but when they were younger went overboard with it as most girls do at that age. I seldom wear any as I don&amp;rsquo;t care to stare at myself in the mirror while applying it, not to mention that I can&amp;rsquo;t help but to touch my face all the time smearing any attempts the girls had made over the years to &amp;ldquo;fix me up&amp;rdquo;.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item></channel></rss>