Wine poured forth, conversations flowed.
Green Girl & Howard--he gifted me the book for my coaching husband!
Last Thursday our writing group hosted a soiree' for the local writers--food, drinks and the floor to read to us from their work. We heard from Joanne Sundell's soon-to-be-released Parlor House Daughter, a poet named George who writes about nature--eagles and rivers and trees, and a review from Howard who illustrated a book about coaching kids. Listening to other people read--the diversity of topic, the variety of writing style, the different inspirations they draw on for their writing was a lot of fun for writing geeks like me. It's weird that I live in a place more populated, yet haven't met the same scads of the sort of writers--committed, enthusiastic and successful. Perhaps I should pretend I'm not a local and I'd have different luck.
Saturday I flew home through O'Horror, which, true to it's nefarious reputation kept my plane in turbulence for an additional 35 minutes. In a hundred degrees of stifling air I clutched my armrest and clenched my eyes shut while sweating profusely and holding my retching in check. The kid behind me blew chunks and the resulting smell almost had me following suit.
I pushed past old people and children and sprinted off my delayed arrival to see that my connection was On Time--boarding in 8 minutes. I ran full blast from gate C34 to gate F2, gasping for air and still not fully recovered from my airsickness. Of course when I reached gate F2, no one was moving. My flight was delayed (why did I expect otherwise? because the monitor said so? silly me.) and took a seat, politely a seat away from anyone else because by now I reeked of bad B.O. An hour and a half later than planned, I boarded my ride home. It might have been a little dramatic, but I knelt down and kissed the ground when I landed in Wisconsin. Then I ran inside and kissed my bachelors. To their credit, they missed me enough to ignore my stench and claimed me as their own.