Hello, Fresh Fiction!
As Iβm writing this, Tropical Storm/Hurricane Fay is barreling towards lucky
south Florida, and nobody is sure where sheβs going to hit. This means that I
am not writing outside at the wrought-iron table, looking at the water.
It means that I have piled that wrought-iron table, along with all the chairs,
chaises, potted plants, plant stands, decorative garden objects and my
husbandβs green froggy ashtray into the formal living room . . . which is now
not looking quite so formal. A pool net will do wonders for anybodyβs dΓ©cor,
know what I mean?
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