One thing continually bothers me as I read Diana Gabaldon's richly detailed story of Claire Beauchampe, a doctor who innocently walks into a stone formation in Scotland and winds up in 16th century Scotland. Much has happened since this beginning...Claire has married Jamie Fraser the young and impressive Scottish Laird (against her wishes), fallen madly in love with him regardless of a precarious beginning to their relationship, followed him around as they attempt to evade the English, fought with him at the battle of Culloden, been forced back through the stones to safety with their unborn child, raised their child with her ambiguous husband from the future, returned after her child had grown up so that she could find him, made a new life with him in an American Colony, and been surprised by the appearance of her daughter and new son in law in 16th century America. Through their many, often rediculous, adventures there is that one thing that my brain ...
A place where I can flex my writing muscles by reviewing the books, movies, theatre shows, and TV programs I've been enjoying

Lol. The sad thing is that I sense the truth in this.
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