Hello, Fresh Fiction!
As I’m writing this, Tropical Storm/Hurricane Fay is barreling towards lucky
south Florida, and nobody is sure where she’s 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
husband’s green froggy ashtray into the formal living room . . . which is now
not looking quite so formal. A pool net will do wonders for anybody’s décor,
know what I mean?
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