The Winged Woman

Written for Magpie Tales #184.  Click on the links below if you would like to read Eli's adventures up to this point.

Birdman?
The Princess
Eli and the Redhead

Remember Eli?  He's the guy who woke up in a giant bird nest.  As it turned out it was really a dream, but what had precipitated it?  His mother told him fairy tales about giant birds who lived in the enchanted forest.  They even raised a child among the tree tops and made her a princess of their family.

artwork by Jeanie Tomanek 

That was just a fairy tale, or so she said.  She never admitted any different or denied the possibility that it was more truth than fiction.

When we last saw Eli, he had just woken up with a substantial hangover after drinking himself into oblivion over a redheaded vixen named Judy in the Come As You Are Saloon.

With his head throbbing, he stumbled into the bathroom reaching for the alka-seltzer, or pepto or anything else that could slay the herd of elephants stampeding through his head. "Why?" he asked himself over and over again.  "Why do things like this always happen to me?"

He fell back on the couch and drifted off again.  Soon he was dreaming of tall trees and sunlight streaming through to the moss-covered ground.  On a branch just above his head he saw a woman.  She was beautiful with soft brown curls framing her face.  What he noticed then took him aback.  She had the most magnificent white wings.  Was she an angel?  Had he died?  Shortly before he had felt like it. 

"Who are you?" he asked, puzzled that there would be a winged woman in a tree.

"Fear not, Eli" she replied in a singsong voice, "for I am your mother.  You do not recognize me because to you this is a dream.  This is the only way I could tell you the truth.  I know you have wondered for a long time.  I know of your dreams.  I was part of those dreams.  It was my way of bringing you to the truth."

"Mother" he began, searching for words.  "All those fairy tales about the princess...that was really you after all wasn't it?  I felt it in my heart, but knew that logically it was impossible.  Birds are birds and people are people.  People don't fly or live in trees, well except for Tarzan, and he didn't fly." 

As he stood there silently staring up at the woman in the tree, he saw her begin to change.  Gradually her soft features became more angular and her curls changed into sleek white feathers.  The basket she had held in her hand fell to the ground.

"Good-bye Eli."

Suddenly there on the ledge appeared a white bird, and much to Eli's surprise he understood what was being said.  

"Come Princess, it's time to go. He knows the truth now and that knowledge will serve him well."

"Yes" replied his mother, "He will be all right now." 


The Quote of the Week will return next Monday!

Is that all?

Welcome to the 28th and final day of the 30 minus 2 days of writing challenged hosted by Nicky and Mike of "We Work For Cheese".  Please visit Nicky's post for the cheesy wrap up. 

As we listen in we hear two friends dealing with the stress of the challenge.

Hey, you can't wear that, it's too cheesy.  You'll look like a tramp.

Now hold on a minute, I yelled back, and the next thing I knew we were arguing to test the bonds of friendship. 

You'd better put out the light before someone sees you in that.

Well my home is my haven and I'll do what I want.  Lemme see that.  Are you texting someone?  I read French you know.

Fifteen minutes later the mayor pulls up.  I just got back from my road trip and I heard the fighting.  I haven't heard anything like that since the day I met Abraham Lincoln.  I was being charged with an (unintended) misuse of campaign funds.  By the way, do you know where I can get a good blintz?  I'm starving.

Mr. Mayor, would you please shut up or else we'll have to ask you to leave. 

That music is awful, can you please change the station.

Oh, so now you're telling me what to listen to?  

I'm outta here.

Whatever, dude. 

Home at last, he pops open a beer while dialing the pizza shop.  A large everything, please.

As for me, I crash on the couch, flip on the TV and watch the shopping channel.  It's the little things, you know.

They are showing the latest fashion in footwear.  Where's the phone?  Wait, I liked the other shoe better.  Last Train to Clarksville is playing in the background.  

There's a noise coming from the back yard...dogs?   Compulsively, I check the door for the umpteenth time.  I know it's absurd, but I can't help it.  What's that Confusius says "Life is really simple, but we insist on making it complicated."

I don't know if that's fact or fiction, or if the outfit is cheesy, or if the shoes will match, and did the mayor ever get his blintz?

This has been a very weird day, and that's why I got drunk.

Eli and the Redhead

Welcome to the 27th day of the 30 minus 2 days of writing challenge hosted by Nicky and Mike of "We Work for Cheese".  Today's prompt is "And That's Why I Got Drunk".  My contribution today is a work of fiction and yet another adventure in the life of Eli.  Now go visit Nicky's post for more excuses.

It was in the wee hours of the morning when Eli stumbled up his steps.  He fumbled with his keys, then dropped them.  They went over the rail and into the bushes.  He stumbled back down the steps, missed the last one and landed in a pile of dog poop.  "Darn dog", he mumbled.  He scrounged for the keys, and jabbed a thorn into his thumb. "Sh..!" 

Eli rights himself, sucks on his injured thumb, and climbs back up the steps.  

Four hours earlier: 

Eli was sitting on his favorite stool at the Come As You Are Saloon.  He liked this place because he knew everyone, and they all knew him.  It reminded him of that old TV show from the 80s.  You know the one - where everyone knows your name.

Anyway, he was sitting there nursing a Stella, when in walked a woman.  Not just any woman, but the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.  She was a redhead, and he'd heard they could be feisty.  She was wearing 5-inch red stilettos and a black dress so tight it looked like she must have been born in it.  Her green eyes sent sparks flying when she looked his way.

Now Eli was an average dude, but he believed he sprang from Royalty.  He knew in his heart his mother was a Princess, and that made him special.

He left his stool and walked over to the gorgeous redhead. 

"What's your name, sweetheart?", he said, trying to be cool.

She just looked at him, then past him at his bar mate, Paul.  He tried again. 

"I said what's your name?  My name's Eli".

"Hmmm, that's nice.  What's his name?" indicating Paul who was watching this play out.  Poor Eli!  All the other women had turned him down.  They said he was just too weird...something about birds and he was constantly talking about his mother.

"Oh, that's Paul.  He's another regular here."

The redhead pushed past him and swayed over to where Paul was sitting.  "Hello there.  It's Paul, right?"

Not about to be left out Eli followed, then much to his embarrassment, he tripped on a loose floor board.  As he gyrated to try and stay upright he grabbed for the table, but got the redhead's...um...posterior instead. 

"Oh, sorry...I never did get your name," as he tried to recover.

As she swung and punched him in the nose, she said, "My. Name. Is. Judy."  Paul is now laughing openly at Eli's tortured look, not to mention his rapidly swelling nose.

"Bartender", called Paul, "another round on me, and an icepack for my friend, here." 

Eli slunk into a back booth, bemoaning his never ending stream of bad luck with women. About that time a man, another stranger to the bar, slid into the seat opposite him.  

"I saw what just happened.  That's a dang shame, too, she's quite a looker.  Had no right to treat you that way.  Women like that think they're too good for the likes of us, eh."

"Yeah, I guess you're right." Eli gulped down his beer.  "I gotta hit the john" he said and headed down the hall.  When he got back, the stranger was gone, and so was his jacket.  "Dang, everyone's a thief these days."  Then he remembered, when he had pulled out his ID earlier, he'd stuck his wallet in his jacket.  Now he had a fat nose, no girl and no wallet.  He pulled the last ten bucks out of his jeans and called the bartender.  "Bring me a bottle of bourbon and a glass."

The next thing he knew he was climbing the steps to his house.  "Why?" he wondered as he collapsed on his couch.  

Later, when the fog had lifted, he remembered.  "That was why I got drunk!  It was punch and Judy."

To Dance Or Not To Dance?

Today is day 24 of the 30 minus 2 days of writing hosted by Nicky and Mike of We Work For Cheese. Today's prompt is "Confucius". Visit Nicky's post to see what else Confucius says.

Ann had wanted to take dance lessons for years, but Carl refused, stating he had two left feet.  That was just an excuse and she knew it, but she had a plan.

Image Source:  wisze's photostream

"Are you ready", he called, "we don't want miss our reservation".  They had these reservations for weeks.  Le Chateau was a hard restaurant to get into, but they wanted to do something special for Carl's birthday.

"I'm almost ready, you go start the car and I'll be right out."  She had to get his birthday card which contained his gift.

They arrived at the restaurant and were seated at corner table next to the window.  The view was gorgeous, overlooking the river, the multi-colored lights on the bridge twinkled, reflecting on the water. 

"A bottle of your best Champagne, please."  Carl beamed.  He had always wanted to say that.  It was his birthday and he was going all out.  "Two steaks, medium rare, too please."  

"Thank you, sir" said the waiter.  "I will be right back with your Champagne".  

"Carl" exclaimed Ann, "Do you have any idea how expensive that is?"  She really didn't care, though, she was happy just watching him enjoy himself.  God knows he works hard enough for it.

"This is fantastic.  This has to be the best meal I've ever had, except for your cooking, of course", Carl said, quickly correcting his faux paux.

"OK," said Ann, smiling "now for the rest of your gift."  She pulled a card from her purse and placed it in front of him.  

"I thought we agreed that this dinner would be my birthday gift."  He opened the card and he grinned from ear to ear.  Inside was a receipt for 6 weeks of fencing lessons.  "Oh Ann, this is so cool.  Thank you!"  Carl had been longing to learn fencing for years, ever since watching sword fight scenes in old movies. "Did you know I love you?" he asked teasingly.

Then he noticed something else in the card.  It was a second receipt, for 6 weeks of dance lessons.  Ann was very clever in her choice of fencing instructors.  This particular one required students to demonstrate dance skills, stating that one can't fence properly with two left feet.  Since Ann wanted to take dance lessons, and Carl wanted to learn fencing this was perfect.  "Still love me?" she teased back.

But seeing the look of dismay on his face, Ann explained their policy.  "Confucius say: Don't give sword to man who can't dance."

Deadlines

 It is day 21 of the 30 minus 2 days of writing hosted by Nicky and Mike of We Work For Cheese. Today's prompt is "The Last Train".  Visit Nicky's post to see who else is participating in today's train ride.

Jeannie stared at the pile of papers littering her desk. The blank computer screen was agonizingly bright as she rubbed her tired eyes. The deadline loomed, and the old clock the wall went tick, tick, tick... The newspaper was an unforgiving beast and, like the mail, it too has a schedule to maintain.

Image Source:  bbusschots

She pulled a paper from the pile. "Dear Jean, my son is engaged to a lovely girl. She's smart, funny and well educated. The problem is that she is Jewish. Our family is Catholic..." We are okay with it, but her parents are threatening to cut her out of the family if she marries my son. How should we handle this? Signed Distressed in Duluth."

Another one reads "...my husband is planning an surprise 40th birthday party for me. I am not fond of surprise parties. My cousin let it slip the other day, and it is apparently an elaborate affair. I love my husband, and don't want to disappoint him. Should I say anything or try and act surprised and happy? Signed Party Pooper."

Jeannie ponders these and other letters, searching for the right mix for reader interest. She's been a columnist for 10 years, and had noticed that while the times have changed, technology has advanced, and life grows more complicated, people's problems remain the basically the same. Relationships blooming, relationships falling apart, children, bullies, money problems, he-said, she-said, and who's fault it is.

Finally she chooses two letters, one about a young man who finds out his fiance is actually his half sister, and the other about meddling grandparents.  She dishes out sound advice from her many years of experience, insight and imagination. Yes, columnists must be creative and imaginative to keep from giving out cookie-cutter advice. Each response must be fresh and individual.  Some days this is a struggle.  "Have I been doing this too long?" she wonders to herself.

The sun is now setting, glowing golden against the wall behind her. She finally taps out the last words, hits save and sends it to the Lifestyle department. Done!  It is Friday and the weekend has begun. She glances at the clock. If she hurries she'll have enough time to meet Seth at the bar for a drink before catching the last train out of the city. 

Or Else

It is day 15 of the 30 minus 2 days of writing hosted by Nicky and Mike of We Work For Cheese.  Today's prompt is "Or Else".  Visit Nicky's post to see what else is going on.  This is also posted for Friday Flash 55.

Image Source:  toupeira.deviantart.com

We had been warned over and over that we should straighten up or else, but those were just words.

So the moment that glass broke, our fate was sealed.  Mother Superior rapped her ruler on the desk as we stood silent before her.

I guess now we will find out just what "or else" meant.

Edit: For story background, click on the link above.

The Rose Garden: The Wedding

Six months earlier.  "She said yes, Mother!" Gerald shouted, ecstatically.  "Can you believe it?  She actually said yes."  Gerald knew his mother was lurking somewhere nearby.  She usually did when he was alone in the garden. 

Allison sat cross-legged on the floor in the living room amidst a mountain of catalogs and brochures.  Her blond hair hung in ringlets around her face as she bent over a cake catalog, murmuring "chocolate with vanilla icing, or butter cream with chocolate icing?  No, I'd rather have carrot cake."

Gerald had been watching from the next room, thinking she had never looked lovelier than she did now in her faded jeans and Bon Jovi T-shirt, representing Allison's favorite band.  They went to see them the month before in Atlanta when they had picked up her wedding dress.  She deemed "Thank You For Loving Me" as 'our song' and they danced in the aisle as the band played.

Spotting him she smiled.  "Gerry, have you talked to the photographer and videographer?"  "I want to make sure they can be here for the rehearsal dinner, too.  Did you mention that?"

"Yes, dear, we are on their schedule for Friday night, and they will be at the church at noon on Saturday," replied her future husband patiently.  "Everything is under control.  You have gone over every detail to the utmost and then some."

"Are you saying that I have obsessed over my perfect day?"

"Not at all, sweetheart, not at all."

"Well, I still have to choose the cake.  What do you think?  Chocolate or vanilla?  Traditional or carrot cake?  Maybe even carrot cake squares with little miniature candy carrots for decoration?  I like it!  It's settled."

"I love a woman who's not afraid to make a decision" said Gerald, laughing.

All brides have issues and obstacles to contend with to make it the perfect wedding, and there is seldom such a thing.  The food is overcooked or undercooked, or someone has one too many cocktails and causes a scene or botches the toast to the bride and groom.  And so after many months of planning, comparing prices, interviewing photographers, and sampling countless hors d'oeuvres, the big day finally arrives.  

As Gerald dons his rented tux, he fumbles with the tie.  Frustrated, he mumbled "how does this go again?"  Then he smiles, remembering their first lunch in the rose garden.  It is so fitting that they exchange their vows in that same garden.  That's why they planned a Spring wedding.  The vestiges of Winter have faded away, but the wrath of Summer was not yet upon them and Mother's yellow roses were in full bloom just as he knew they would be.  

Allison emerges as the music begins.  Dum dum de dum... Her bridesmaids lead the way, their matching pale blue dresses swaying as they walk.  The bride was a vision of loveliness in her gown of satin and lace, strolling down the aisle as if on air.  Her hands cradling a bouquet of beautiful yellow roses.  She chose to wear her hair down covered with a lacy veil dotted with seed pearls.

Allison's face was radiant as she turned to Gerald.  He, himself, beaming to rival the sun.  What a glorious day.  Gerald wishes his mother could be there, and yet, at the same time he knows she is.  After all it is her garden. 

The minister is speaking.  "Do you, Gerald, take this woman...?  Do you, Allison, take this man...?"

They recite the vows they wrote together to each other.  The minister pronounces them husband and wife..."you may kiss your bride" he said. 

"Ladies and gentlemen, may I introduce Mr. and Mrs. Gerald McLandon.  Congratulations!"

When they reached their table with their cake and champagne, Gerald notices a small box with a note at his place.  He opened the box and his eyes widened with a mixture of disbelief and amazement.  It was the diamond brooch that his father presented to his mother on their 25th anniversary.  The note said "For Allison".

Allison did, indeed, have the perfect wedding day.

If you haven't had a chance to read the first three parts here they are:
The Rose Garden
The Restoration
The Rose Garden:  Allison

What's That They Say?

Image source:  mojado.com

Days of anger

Days of pain

What's that they say

That I'm insane

If that's true

Then who are you

Someone whose story

I wish I knew

Days of sadness

Lies and fear

What's that you say

Someone might hear

What has been hidden

From everyone's view

That mine is the story

I wish I knew

This poem was written for dVerse Poetry and is purely fictional and not reflective of my life.  Also see "The Voices are Silent".

Beyond the Window

Big Room, 1948, by Andrew Wyeth

Beyond the window he could see her sitting in the garden.  A sad look clouded her sweet face.  He wanted so much for her...would give her the world if he could, but she did not want it.  She never wanted this.  The large house, the servants, the driver who would take her anywhere she wanted to go. Still she felt like a prisoner in her own home.  Long hours spent staring at the clock upon the mantle while she waited for him to return.  He knew she wasn't happy, and hadn't been for a long time.

If we can just make it through the next few years, he would tell her, then things will be different.  Ah, but she had heard that all before. 

As she sat on the bench beside the pond she felt him watching her as she watched the goldfish.  She turned toward the window and pasted a smile upon her face.  She knew he tried.  He knew he failed.  He knew she would be better off without him.  She knew she could never leave.

What happened next would free them both...

Written for Magpie Tales.

The Note

Kenny arrived home from work, late as usual.  These long hours were paying off, he thought, as he parked his shiny new Lexus in the garage.  Sharon would have dinner holding in the oven.  It was Friday night, so it was probably lasagna.  She would be waiting in family room, a glass of her favorite red wine on the table as she played bejeweled blitz or some other Facebook game, with the TV on in the background.

prowellwoodworks.com

Kenny walks into the kitchen, the light is on, but there's no familiar smell of dinner waiting.  He calls to Sharon, "Hey, I'm home.  Did you want to order in tonight?"  No answer.

He goes to the family room, no Sharon.  He goes from room to room, but she's not there.  Wait a minute, her car was not in the garage.   How could I have not noticed that? he thought. 

Worried now, he headed to the bedroom.  He glanced around the room and then he saw it, there on his pillow.  "Good-bye" was all it said.

As Kenny sat and stared numbly at the note, it hit him.  There was so much he hadn't noticed.

Written for the prompt "Note" at One-Minute Writer - Friday Fiction.

Saving the Day: An Intervention

Written for the 30-day creative writing challenge hosted by Nicky and Mike of We Work For Cheese.  It is the 26th day of this challenging event, and we are approaching the finish line.  Today's prompt is An Intervention.  Check out the Linky at WWFC to get the inside scoop.

**Fiction**

The headline read Saving the Day:  An Intervention.  "I was just doing my job" John told the reporter, after he was photographed being hugged by the little girl's mother.

It had started the day before when the FBI profilers had narrowed the search to one man, Hector Stimfield.  He was wanted in six states for kidnapping and murder.  He targeted blond-haired, blue eyed girls between the ages of 10 and 12.  They believed him to be a victim of abuse by his older sister when he was a child.  His sister was now in prison for dealing drugs and assault.

Hector moved from state to state, and job to job.  In his current location he worked as a furniture delivery man, which allowed him to gain entrance to people's homes.  That is how he searched for his victims.  His most recent kidnapping was 12 year-old Eliza Parker.  She had been missing for two days.

Image Source:  geograph.org.uk

Local authorities, working with the FBI, had a tip of a blond girl and a man fitting Hector's description in the warehouse district on the north side of town.  The FBI and SWAT were on the scene in minutes.  There was an old white delivery van parked outside an unoccupied warehouse.  Snipers set up on the roof tops of several nearby buildings.

They tried to negotiate with her kidnapper.  They knew what he was capable of and that the situation could become volatile at any moment.

This is where John came into the picture.  He was positioned with a direct line of sight into the warehouse through a broken window.  His rifle, an Intervention sniper rifle, was among the best and most accurate.

He was waiting for his cue.  The FBI wanted to give Hector the opportunity to surrender so he could be arrested, tried and hopefully convicted.  If he failed to comply, then they would allow John to take the shot when he had it.

Not grasping the reality of his situation, Hector refused, saying "If you come in here, the girl's dead."  That was it.  John took the shot and it was over.

After the child was returned to her, Mrs. Parker insisted on meeting John to thank him, and that's when the photograph was taken.  She hugged him and thanked him profusely.  "If not for your skillful intervention, my daughter might have been killed.  I cannot thank you enough."

"You're welcome, ma'am.  I was just doing my job."

Designer Blues

“Well this just sucks,” Amy complained bitterly to her friend, Sharon, as they tried on designer jeans.  She had been a six forever, and now she was squeezing into a size ten.  On her wedding day everyone raved about how she looked in that figure-hugging gown of satin and lace.  Ever since her divorce, however, things went downhill while her weight crept upward.

“Cheer up” replied Sharon, “you still look great.  I saw that TDH checking you out at the club last week.”  TDH in their code stood for tall, dark and handsome, or in today’s lingo, a "hot guy".

“Yeah, I camouflage it very well," she said wryly.  "Some days I convince myself it’s not so bad, and other days I rationalize that I’m not the only one whose waistline has expanded or have parts that jiggle that were never meant to.”

“C’mon, let’s get a smoothie” Sharon suggested, hoping to take her friend’s mind off her woes.  “We’ll get one of those healthified ones made with fat-free frozen yogurt and skim milk.”

“All right,” Amy agreed.  “I haven’t had lunch yet anyway.  Hey, maybe I’ll renew my membership at the gym.  I sure won’t change my life sitting on the couch watching Law and Order reruns.”

“Atta girl!  I may just join you.  What have I got to lose?”

Ann sighed.  “In my case, about twenty pounds!”

Two weeks later Amy and Sharon met at the gym after work.  They each had set up a workout schedule, and Sharon was excited to see her body changing.  “I’ve already lost an inch around my waist” she exclaimed.  “That’s awesome!”

“I’m glad one of us is seeing some results,” Amy said glumly.  “I’ve lost about five pounds, but apparently in all the wrong places, if you know what I mean.  I might have to look into one of those low-cost tummy tucks.  If I lose weight, but still have lumpy, bumpy fat bulging out, what’s the point.  Covering up only works so long, you know?  Soon it will be time for swim suits.  Arrrrgggghhhh!

“Well, there’s that,” responded Sharon with a groan as she put down her weights.  “I know. How about liposuction.  I’ve got a cousin who had liposuction to lose some excess weight.  It worked for her, and she looks fantastic.”

"I guess it's something to think about," said Amy, already imagining herself at the beach in a brand new hot pink bikini.

The Princess

Eli was concerned about his latest dream.  It rang with an eerie reality.  Slowly he remembered...when he was just a lad his mother told him bedtime stories - fairy tales she called them.  He thought they were the same stories every mother told their children.  Ones from a fantasy land, but unlike King Arthur and Hansel and Gretel, her stories were tales of the animal kingdom.

Image source: djajakarta

The tale she told most often was about a princess who was raised by a family of giant birds.  They lived at the top of a huge tree in the middle of the enchanted forest.  They were the rulers of the forest and one day they found a tiny baby whose parents were killed by the beast who roamed the night just beyond the forest's edge.  They took the baby to their nest, cared for her and raised her as their own.  Because she was different, they made her a princess.  For years the princess lived among the tree tops until one day she realized that she didn't belong here, that there was another world below.  She bid a tearful good-bye to her bird family.  Over the years, her family had grown and she had hundreds of siblings.  They gathered to carry her safely to the ground where she began her new life.

But now Eli questioned whether that was really a fairy tale.  It might explain the weird dreams he had been having.  Could his mother be the princess of her tale?  Was she an orphan after all or was she really hatched?

Written for Magpie Tales.

Birdman?

Image Source: image: ParkeHarrison

During the night something strange has happened to Eli.  He stirs to consciousness only to feel all prickly.  His foggy mind is wondering who put all these sticks in his bed.  As he tries to stand up, sticks stab his bare feet.  Ouch!  What? 

It appears that Eli is standing in a giant bird nest.  This is ridiculous, he thinks.  There is no such thing as giant bird nests, or am I losing my mind? 

As he begins to climb out of his prickly confines, he stops to take a look around, and is startled at what he sees.  Tree tops.  Pines, oaks, etc.  How is it that he is standing in a giant bird nest at the top of a tree?

Oh no, he thought, I'm not standing in a giant bird nest.  It's much worse.  I am six inches tall, standing in a normal bird nest at the top of a tree.  Help!!!

When Eli finally did wake up, he found bits of twigs between his toes and a feather in his hair.

Written for Magpie Tales.

A Lunar Vacation?

I just heard that there is water on the moon.  Now why it has taken NASA and a whole host of scientists 40 years to discover this, I'm not sure.  But what a breakthrough.  This could be the resort of the future, the Lunar Riveria.

Let's think about this.  We need transportation, shuttle pilots, flight attendants, gourmet food service and in-flight movies, which means more shuttles, larger accommodations, more pilots (read astronauts) and flight attendants. To build the resort, we need engineers, architects and plumbers trained in minimal gravity design...think toilets.   We don't want that stuff flowing upstream now do we?

As for electricity, how would we produce that in space.  Burn coal?  Can't.  Fire won't burn without oxygen.  Besides we've already polluted one planet.  Let's hope we've learned something.  As far as I can tell, there is no wind on the moon, so wind-generated power is not an option.  I know, how about giant solar panels so we can capture solar energy and store it.  If you can store heated water, and power lights and radios, there should be a way to power other things.  This is not new technology.  The concept of solar energy has been around for many years.  As a child I had a solar powered radio - actually I still have it, and it still works.  However, the methods of collecting it, storing it and using it have surely improved over the years.

All of these measures have no consequence, if we cannot breathe.  This brings us to greatest obstacle - how do we get oxygen in adequate supply for survival?  Possibly large tanks of oxygen and a distribution system?  Too bad we can't pipe it in like natural gas. Picture that pipeline!  To go outside one would need to don a space suit in order to survive the lack of air pressure.  Otherwise all the liquid in your body would boil, and what happens next would not be pretty.  There is an up side to this.  The fashion designers would all be competing to come up with the hottest new line of space apparel. Good-bye itsy bitsy teeny weeny yellow polka dot bikini.  I guess space age swim suits would kinda take the fun out of things - at least for the guys!  That's a argument for indoor swimming pools - heated with the solar panels, especially given that there is an approximate 500 degree swing in temperatures on the moon's surface.  Bottom line is step foot outside without protective gear and you're dead!

At this point I am thinking we need a much larger shuttle system involving cargo transports for the building materials, oxygen tanks, solar panels and storage units, contractors, etc. and that is just to provide life-sustaining structures.  

Speaking of life-sustaining measures, what about food? In such extreme conditions, crops can't be grown or or livestock raised, so all food would have to be transported from earth.  This would definitely require more transports and create more jobs.

This is just the beginning... Financially speaking, your Lunar Riveria getaway will make a Hawaiian vacation seem like a trip to Walmart, and cause your credit cards to expire on the spot.  So, who's paying for this adventure?  There are many questions unanswered...after all we just discovered that there is water on the moon.