Marlo Meets Cher Meets Patty Hearst

I'm not going to say what year this was and no, I do not know what I was thinking with the outfit. The vest is suede and has way cool fringe hanging from it. Can you see the gold choker? I think it was a Slinky before I put it around my neck. The real question is why am I straddling my legs like that? I don't have a good answer. I think I was trying to show off the pants. They really do look like curtains, don't they? They were my absolute faves and I was pretty sure as this snap was taken that I was Hot Stuff. It was the one day out of 60 that my hair wasn't a rat's nest of frizz.

In other homeowning news, squirrels are back in the attic and they're partying hard at night. This is pissing me off. Soon clouds of poison will envelop them--no no, I'm kidding. That's not the way modern exterminators do things these days, more's the pity. I do assure you I have not the slightest problem with clouds of poison, but the way they do it is to nail chicken wire over the place where the squirrels are getting in so they can't get in any more. They also attach a chicken wire chute so the little bastard that is still in there (hung over) can get out and escape. At some point my entire house will be enclosed with chicken wire with a small chute for me to go in and out. Stay tuned.

I am reading THIS IS NOT CHICK LIT, which my son gave me in the mistaken belief that it was chick lit. I would rather support the chick lit writers, but since I own the book I am reading it and it is good. It is very good. But good chick lit is good too, boys and girls.

Went to a meeting of New England RWA (romance writers) yesterday and enjoyed it. The presentation was on getting and keeping critique partners. It's a lot like dating and hook-ups and the etiquette involved in dumping them if you have to.

Planning to start DALLIANCE WOMAN sometime soon. It will probably be at a time that I have no business doing it because hey, that's the way I like to do things. I still have two bags of Honeypot Empire apples in my fridge, waiting for my son to claim one of the bags.

And that's all the news I'm willing to tell.

A bientot

I am here now.

becky