Home in the Woods

We've had such a good time in Inverness. Reading our stories in Wally and Julie's living room, surrounded by books, duck decoys and an Irish harp, or eating a large Tiaposian Pot Luck, once anchored by Tim's salmon and John's curried rice and PJ's hardboiled eggs, or sitting outside by the fish pond while we spun tales about writing or not writing, this house has been a safe, creative haven for everyone. Who can ever forget the new girl who loved animals and John's story about killing the dog?

All right, Mushnik has corrected the facts. The story wasn't about killing a dog, it was about poisoning a cat.

In the old, old days with Tim and John and Claire and Beth and Carol and Luci and Jan and Ellen and Laura, and in the not quite so old days with Karen H and Suzi and Rachel and Martha and Jeff, and now with Plotnik and Mushnik and Mistress Domin-Nik and Blonde Bombshell and Large Pants and Chef Pickle-nik and Mississippi Motorhead -- the constant has always been Wally and Julie and their glorious home in the woods.

What happens now? More parties, of course. What else can we do? Stories need reading, accordions need squeezing, people need hugs up close and in person. Don't worry, it'll all work out.