OF MICE AND MEN (No, not THAT one - the OTHER one.)

     Sorry, it's been awhile since our last chat.

     I'm excited. A play I've been working on for years is nearing completion. It's THE TEAPOT COLLECTOR, and I've so enjoyed pouring my soul into it that I never actually expected it to reach a conclusion. But it is a-l-m-o-s-t there. Now I can't wait to see it finished  ...

(Aren't writers strange ducks?)

     My wife's first novel, PAINTING THE RAIN, is set to be released by Amazon on Kindle sometime this month. I have had reactions falling all over each other ...

     (1. NOW she can keep me in the style to which I might wish to be imagined)

     (2. The book is lifted from a play we co-authored. In the novel the dashing leading man -
coincidentally named Jack Petersen - is KILLED OFF by the author on page 2.)

     (3. Our daughter is getting married. The wedding is going to cost more than my first house.)

     (4. We might be able to travel to those strange mythological lands we've read about in weighty
tomes - like England. I have this abiding love for Brit wit, and, although I am comfortable with
American, French, German, and Egyptian hieroglyphics, the English language remains a
challenge. My only solace is in the fact that the English don't seem to have any more luck with
it than I do. )

     I leave you with two photographs - because I am inclined to do that. The first is aforementioned daughter, The second is Chicken George, created by my wife, and guarding one corner of the living room. In case you are confused, Daughter is the one with dark hair.

j