Letters to Holly

Wednesday, October 7


Can any day truly be bad if it ends with sudden-death playoff baseball, beer, and pub food? I say no.

Your Sister worked late -- like LATE late, not just late -- and I rewarded her toil with a bar dinner. She embraced the cider like a treasured heirloom recovered from a shipwreck. She earlier had another in the seemingly dozen organizational meetings. This one is led by a teacher new to the boss position, and Your Sister is playing the part of manager. She helped him prep and seemed as proud of his success as he was relieved to have it done. I was at home finishing today's FB drawing. More plans were made for Thursday's rendezvous with the college callers.

I'm scanning store shelves for new Halloween decorations, and I'm debating buying a fog machine or making one to work with the dry ice sold at the grocery store. I've operated a larger version of dry-ice machines in larger theaters; it's one of the perks of backstage work. Although you have to take care not to smother the actors with smoke. That happened during Glass Menagerie. But we only get a dozen kids each year. Is the effort worth it? Would a fog machine and new decorations lure new children into our delicious tiger traps? One must ponder.

I signed up for the Halloween race. I'm officially official.

How's your car?

Picture of the Day
Just saying.

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