Yay, Deb!!! and nice review for Weaver too.
Go bounce, choose bounce!!!
I saw you did post your questions on the list, Susan. I hope you found the responses helpful.
Andrew ,'Damage'
A place for Buffistas to discuss, beta and otherwise deal and dish on their non-fan fiction projects.
Yay, Deb!!! and nice review for Weaver too.
Go bounce, choose bounce!!!
I saw you did post your questions on the list, Susan. I hope you found the responses helpful.
Happy day for the internet wife. And Timelies!(I've been up, of course, but I got suckerpunched by Lehane and sucked into lengthy correspondence with someone.)
Peeking in while the baby plays under the desk...
What a lovely review, Deb! Very well-deserved, of course. And the one for Weaver is great, too. You could cull something from both to put on the cover for Mattie, couldn't you?
Dives under the desk before the baby unplugs the computer...
Deb, that's fabulous!
t not here
Why do I think not-here Kristin is unplugging Amy's computer?
You could cull something from both to put on the cover for Mattie, couldn't you?
Oh, there will be quotes, you bet. Famous Flower has all the cool culled quotes for Weaver on the back.
I already said in PF, but that's a killer review of FFoSM. And a very nice one of Weaver, too.
Deb, insent, for when you have some time.
obeisance
He had said, "It’s time," so they all went.
He had said, "Here," so they all stopped.
He had said, "Dig," and they all dug.
Now they were standing around the edge of the hole, and they still weren't sure what they were looking at. They weren't sure what they were doing. Was this some initiation thing for the fraternity? Was it a test of their loyalty to his leadership? Had he just come unglued since she had died?
Because the treasure they thought they were unearthing sure did look a lot like a coffin. And wasn't her grave unmarked?
erika, received and danced about. Will curl up at the week's end, which ought to be about the time I finally get over the damned jet lag.
Liese, damn. Powerful stuff.
For Teppy's challenge, a true memory:
Gratefully Not Dead, Mid-Seventies
The hole in the plywood planking is humongous. I was standing no more than ten feet away when it made its appearance, but Bobby, his signature Ibanez slung over his shoulder and his ponytail flapping, was a whole lot closer.
Now there's a break in the soundcheck, as well as a break in the stage. We cluster around the gaping wooden wound, staring down at the smashed B12 cabinet below. It missed me by ten feet, and Bobby by maybe two. The B12 weighs, conservative guess, 90 pounds.
"Close one," says Owsley, and his hand moves, not quite crossing himself.
Wow, I can't tell you how gratifying that is...and by gratifying, I might mean...