Floppy hats
Women in floppy hats: writers Kelly and Maribel, and Georgio’s paramour, Cheryl.
Good morning, theater-lovers!
As you know, I’ve been beaucoup busy with the new site, Martinis with Nick. The second episode went live yesterday, so if you haven’t checked it out yet, you definitely should. Stage manager Margie Price talks about some questionable theater-related wagers.
But I’ve been busy doing other things, of course. On Saturday, I invited my novel-writing buddies over for grilled quail, asparagus, potatoes, and meatballs in homemade barbecue sauce. For good measure, I threw some escargot into a pan. It was an after-dinner thing. Don’t think about it too much.
We’ve gotten together a few times since we met at the Push to Publish Conference, back in November, but we still don’t have a cool name. Maribel really wants one, so she could put on her resume or list of achievements or tombstone that she was a member of the “Dynamite Squad” or whatever. Georgio is resistant; he likes the idea that we’re a nameless society. Kelly seemed happy just stuffing her face with mollusks. I don’t know where I come down on the debate, but I suspect that we’re heading toward a Voldemort-like solution, which is to say, we’ll have a name but nobody will say it out loud.
I should also add that my wife, Aurora, was out all day with her knitting coven, attending the Maryland Sheep and Wool and Puma Show with her knitting coven. So, We-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named had all afternoon to discuss my novel and Georgio’s collection of short stories. I mean, yes, we had all afternoon, but that’s not what we did. At least not exclusively. Mostly, it was about what writing in general, job hunting, and what makes a perfect martini. You know…writer stuff.
But a sign that it went well was that my guests were still around when my wife’s coven returned, and two of them stuck around for pizzas (because I was too tired to cook anymore). So, cheers to my friends for watching me grill, and I look forward to doing it again, soon.
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