We had no control over it. None, nada, zip, zilch. I hate rides with a stone solid passion, but that was the first time I remember going on a ride, and you have to admit, as a stellar way to turn someone off the idea for the rest of their fucking life, a five hour-plus power outage under those circs takes the cake.
No coasters. No ferris wheels. If I want to go on a ride, I climb into Ripper, or saddle a horse.
Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.
connie, I tried to send you some comments on that story a few days ago, but I got an "unable to deliver due to being unable to connect to destination mail server" error.
Deb, I sent comments back to you the other day.
Wow.
Just read the essay about Gram to my mom to make sure it was okay to publish. When I finished, she smiled and said, "I think you just wrote her eulogy. It's perfect."
I may stop crying over here, eventually.
Aw, rats. I thought I had a good drabble going about an upside down card in a Rorschach test, and then I realized it was just an old joke resurfacing. It came from either
Catch-22
or
The Right Stuff
(or maybe both), but I don't have either one handy to look it up.
connie, I tried to send you some comments on that story a few days ago, but I got an "unable to deliver due to being unable to connect to destination mail server" error.
Huh. Want to try again? A couple of emails that should have come through from LJ didn't work. Or if you want to post them here and confuse everyone else, I don't mind.
Just sent it again.
Es no aqui. Gah, why does my brain hook on these little foreignisms. Not here yet, sorry.
Anne! Didn't you get my return email? I wrote one.
VERY good comments, and I agree with the need to colourise Marcus a bit. He gets much more interesting as the book goes along (or so I anticipate - he becomes the only other person hearing what RIngan's hearing, and is too freaked to say anything until he realises Ringan hears it too) but this was the first shot at writing him, and what you read was unedited.