Peredhil

This is really well done. Too often the color of skin becomes a mask to the person inside - hiding them from the perception of others, and hiding others from their perception. Masks always impinge on sight both ways. I'm reminded of talking to a fellow soldier. He mentioned that in the U.S.of A., he was always Afro-American, or Black American. Then he said the only place he'd ever been where his skin color didn't matter was a foreign country, where when he stepped out the gate, white yellow or black, they were just the hated Americans, one and all. He moralized how sad he'd felt to realize that it took hatred to truly blind people to the skin color, when everyone preached that it was love which was blind. I really enjoyed reading this.

OH. Extremely gentle but persistent huggles Don't lose hope!

On the blustery winter day when I awake It is out the window that I peek, A marvel of delicate handiwork I see - Thousands of white crystals, each unique. Bundling up in warm winter clothes, Trailing a sled, now 'tis a hill I seek.

The stage stood empty for a long moment. A halfling lass stumbled toward the stairs, almost as if she'd been pushed, and halted for a long moment at the bottom. Taking a deep breath, she resolutely climbed the stairs, stepping up with one foot, bringing the other up to match, and repeating until she was at the top. Moving to the center stage, she remained facing away from the audience. Finally, with another shoulder-heaving sigh, she turned and gave a tremulous smile, which brightened as she realized she couldn't see anyone at all in the darkened room beyond the spotlight. Shaking her curly blonde locks from her face, she raised a sturdy chin and blinked her grass-green eyes a moment, squinting a bit. Raising a plump pink hand to shade her eyes, she wetted her lips and asked plaintively, "C-could someone please dim that please?" The spotlight lowered just a bit and she nodded her thanks, roses blooming in her cheeks as she smiled. Clasping her hands tightly behind her back, to keep them from shaking, she began. "Umm. Uh, this story t'ain't likely to be amusing to y'all, 'cause y'all so wonderful poetic and such. My, I could just sit and fill my ears with y'all's voices, I swear. I mean, some of y'all could just charm the honey from the bees when y'all talk so sweet. I'm not a story teller like that, oh no. "Uh, my. Listen to me ramble about like a drunk goat. Anyway, one of my friends," She waved in the general direction of the shadowy audience and squinted a bit, then continued, "one of my friends, thought y'all might want to hear a story from me. I'm not sure why, with all that goes on here, but there it is and here I am." "My, sure is hot up here, I never would've guessed." She fanned herself with one hand and gathered her thoughts. "Uh, anyway." "In a time long before your grandfather lost his teeth, but more recent than when he first grew them, there was one of them Big People." She raised a measuring hand up above her head, and tried to lift it higher by tippy-toeing, but gave it up with a throwing away gesture. "Anyway, they was bigger than that and twice as heavy. This particular person was know as Wat, not Wat like'n Wat y'all doin', but Wat in short for Walter, but that were 'bout the only thing short about Wat. "Wat came into village on a dark day like when the snow threatens low in the late Fall and thinks about Winter. Cold with no breeze a-blowin' and sullen and gray. And that fit Wat just fine, him being a morose one, a long, tall, bitter drink of water, he was. "We in the village didn't really likes the look of him, his sharp eyes lookin' all 'round like they was sizing and measurin' things what not belonged to him, but we kept our teeth in our mouths and our words behind him and waited to see what his business was, 'cause we may be Little folk but we knows our manners just fine, thank you very much. "Wat didn't waste a word with any hellos or how ye does or nothing like that, not that one. 'Stead he marches right ups to the burgermeister and looks down his nose at him with a haughty look likes he was a king 'stead of just being some ragged wanderer - or so's we thought at the time. "Oh, my! I'm so bad at this! I should tell y'all that our village is way off by itself, there's no other place for miles and the only trail is the one the Peddler mades when he come on through with his mules. So now y'all know how usual-like it's to have a Man comin' through. We're a deadend off'n the middle of nowheres. "Oh! And I should tell you this. Won't make no kinds of sense if it makes any at all, but then, it weren't my idea to come up and tell a story with your Lordships all listenin'. Uh, and your Ladyships too." She curtsies nervously, bobbing up and down, and adjusts her hair back from her face with a trembling hand. Clasping her hands behind her back once more, she drove on. "Anyways, we're so far off from any other place that only the Peddler comes through; other than maybe a few 'venturers looking for trouble and usually thievin' without a thought for the working hobbit or a thank 'ee please. But never a raggedly begger like Wat, no, he was more'n unusual, beggin' your pardon, his ragged clothes and poor shoes, and acting uppity like some great lord comin' to his poor serfs for squeezin' more money away from their babies. Oh. I'm sorry, I do get carried away from the point, like a baby bunny left under the hawk's glare. "Anyway, Wat is standing there talking to the Burgermeister and we're lookin' him over with the edgy eye wondering what he'll do next and pushing the children BACK into the homes, not that the little ones wouldn't immediately try and take a peep out the window, bless their little hearts, so innocent and curious. "Wat leans down resting his pale hands on his knees and says loudly like the Burgermeister was deaf or something, 'I have a map.'" "Then he straightened up and crosses his arms like he's said something. Well, it warn't nice but the children do laugh when someone's silly, and he flushed all red but ignored them. "And the Burgermeister, he looks back up at Wat and says, he says, 'And I have work to do!' and then he starts to head back to his forge. We nearly died at that one, we did, with the Big Man standing there with his mouth just a gaping like a frog lost the fly. "'Wait', cries this Wat, 'I have a MAP.' "And then the Burgermeister turns and says, he says all sly but with a straight face, 'Well maybe you should see a cleric about that, I hear they cure all sorts of fools.' I'm standing here to tell you, we knew who won *that* conversate of words!" "But we din't expect what Wat did next, not in the whole world would we have guessed that. You know what Wat did? Well, you wouldn't guess neither. No, no sir. He didn't go find a cleric, but thankee for your guess, I guess some of y'all do be listening. "He stands up like a pole pine and points a hand shaking all mad-like at the Burgermeister, eyes bulging, and says some Words!" She pauses to look significantly at the shadowy audience, fully caught up in the wonder of her tale. "Thanks right! Struck us dead-silent too! 'Cause when he said them Words, a little stream of FIRE came shooting out his finger without burning a nail, and ran straight as a bear's pizzle to hit the Burgermeister in the back! "Well now, as G'ma's tell the little uns, if anger ruled the world, the wolverines would win, but never lose your thoughts. Wat should've listened to his Nanner a bit more, as I could recommend to some who think they've grown too big to listen... "Well, the burgermeister, being a forge-worker as I think I mentioned? Anyways, he is, and he was wearin' his Rent charm what lets him work the fires without getting burnt, and he turned and just looked at Wat like Wat had been all foolish, like he'd look at a little hobbit-boy who'd knocked his cap off in winter with a snowball, you know how they try to resist, but foolishness is just part of a boy, anyway. "That Wat didn't know what had happened. If he was mad before, let me tell you, he was struck dumb then. You could see him wilt like day old lettuce left in the sun. Here he'd thought just cause he were big and had a touch of magic that he was a king or something. Reality will straighten out the most foolish boy's fantasies and often has a fang, it does. And his fantasy went straight way, because the Burgermeister may have seemed small to Wat, but he sure gave him what-for! "He striked him left, right, and center, and after the first head-butt to the belly, that lantern-chin was well in striking distance! "It being hard to magic someone with a broken jaw, that Wat flew back up the trail like the hawk that bit the snake, and found it was the tiger's tail. Left his pack in the Burgermeister's grasp he was in such a hurry, and he hasn't come back for it yet, so I imagine it's still in the corner of the forge. "All sorts of nasty things in bottles and a book that burnt the hand, not like I didn't tell by brother not to touch it, but there's just no teacher like the burnt hand and he only lost a nail. But the pack is why we know his name was Wat, and it had his map. "And that was the biggest joke of all! The map was about a hun'erd years old and it showed to the village larder where we gather the potatoes! "What? I'm sorry, what don't you understand? "Oh! I'm sorry your Lords and Ladyships. I forgot, y'all being such a good listeners ye are, that y'all weren't my own village children listening. Even they know about the famine in the Kingdom back then. "That fool Wat thought it was a map to treasure, and I suppose that potatoes count more than gold to the hungry mouth." "Anyway, thankee for listening to an old woman natter on." With that, she scurried from the stage and left it waiting for the next storyteller.

Guido looked after the cat with an odd expression on his face, which turned into annoyance as his brother began laughing. As he turned and glared at Nunio, Nuncio just laughed harder. "Gui...gui...You...should...see...look...face..." Nuncio couldn't even get the sentence out. Guido helpfully pounded him on the back so he could recover his breath. Despite the beating, Nuncio kept having giggles interspersed with his speech. "Oh no!" snicker "Big bad cat gonna EAT YOU UP!" falls off chair laughing. Holding on to the chair for support, he risked a glance at Guido's outraged face and nearly lost it all again. "And when Tanny tackled us, I thought that you -" "Shaddup! Youse was droppin' pellets same as me! Another paroxysm of of laughter seized Nuncio. Finally Guido ruefully joined in. "Have youse-self a laugh now, 'cause da day still ain't over." He looked at the morass of mud where Minta played happily and idly mused, "Elladan's next. You t'ink dat 'Dan'll get much action?" Nuncio snorted in reply. " 'Dan?! He's had centuries of practice. He used to TRAIN concubines, didn't he?" "I dunno, Guido replied thoughtfully, "Da people around here all treats him kinda funny..." Nuncio lost the rest of his chuckles as he took in Guido's wrinkled brow. All jokes aside, Guido actually WAS the more perceptive of the two. When he ever bothered to think.

Guido muttered unhappily as he carried the bulk of the equipment. For some reason it always ended up this way. Nuncio always maintained that his brother was the smarter and stronger of the two, but if that was true, why was it always Guido who ended up carrying things? "We'll set up HERE, Guido. Dain was nice enough to clear and level the area." "Why does we care 'bout level? Da Boss is settin' up a KISSING Booth." "It's a matter of propriety and decorum. If we're doing something is the Boss' name, we'll do it up right and proper." "yeah yeah yeah." Guido shrugged off the load and pulled a yellow string. A shimmer of blue and several hundred Pixies appeared and assembled the package before passing through the Portal back to their world. The largest one, a diminuative female wearing a crown and little else, flew up in a buzzing blur of translucent wings and kisses Guido on the nose before darting away. Her laughter hung like crystal chimes in the air after she was gone, before dissolving into the smell of summer meadow. "Pixies," Guido muttered in deep disgust. He didn't like any of this. "Cheer up brother-mine. This is only until the Boss or one of his boys shows up." He was carefully hanging a sign up onto it's brackets, and making sure it couldn't fall to hurt anyone. Fixing it in place with a bit of magic, he turned to the sulking Guido. "It's not like anyone is going to want US!" he exclaimed cheerfully, pointing with his thumb to the sign. He read the sign aloud. For a limited time only, KISSES. Politely Donate whatever amount you felt it was worth after your kiss. "Who will want to kiss a Giant Guinea Pig anyway? Our whiskers tickle." "Canid. Katzaniel. Tanuchan. Most carn'vores..." Guido's voice grumpily trailed off as he moved behind the counter and arranged the curtains to the Privacy Booth, Politely provided for those who wanted shy kisses. Adjusting his lapels, smoothing the knife-edged crease on his pants, and jauntily adjusting his fedora, Nuncio grinned toothily at Guido. "Well, I think this will be fun." He paused for moment to eye his brother wryly. "And it IS for only a few days. How much could go wrong?" Guido pointed to the next Carnival Attraction down the walkway wordlessly. Almost Dragonic brandname was on every torn or ricketty item, and a large puddle of alcohol was evaporating into a shimmering cloud of vapor just *begging* for a match. Nuncio turned pale and staggered back to sit on his stool. "We're next to WYVERN'S BOOTH???"

Peredhil ambled by and put his money down, passing with a smile on the drink. Looking at the Dwarf Skellies, he looked around for Minta, but didn't see her. Subtly weaving several Pixie Stix through one of the skeleton's ribs, he turned to Wyvern and motioned for the game to begin. Wyvern begin mixing the mugs rapidly and stopped with a toothy grin. "Which one will ya pick?" "Wyvern..." Peredhil frowned slightly, "Shouldn't you put the cork under one of the mugs?" Wyvern looked down to see the cork sticking to one of the claws on his hand. Scales slightly blushing, he quickly put the cork under one of the mugs and mixed again. "There!" Bravery was wiggling in excitement. "The middle one! The middle one!" So fixed on the game was Bravery that he didn't notice one of the skellies using a small hammer to gently tap a gnarled knot in one of the barrel's staves. The bass moaning of "boooooooze" when unnoticed as well. Both Wyvern and Peredhil cast a quelling eye on Bravery. Peredhil suggested to Wyvern that if he puts the cork under the middle mug to start every time, he might want to actually move the mug, not just the end ones. Wyvern gave a startled look, and mixed slowly and carefully, his tongue caught in concentration between his fangs. In fact, he moved so slowly, the mug with the cork remained obvious. When he stopped, Peredhil's hands reached out in a blur. The mugs spun and whirled, their metal mouths flinging sparks as the whisked in and out in hypnotic dizzying patterns. In shock, Wyvern's jaw dropped and his tongue unrolled. "Wow! I pick THAT one!" Peredhil smiled and tipped the mug - empty. "I meant, THAT one!" The Ancient Elf tipped the other mug - empty. They both eyed the mug in the middle as Wyvern muttered, "I never thought you'd leave it there..." "Sorry Wyvern, you pay your money, you take your chances! Feel free to play again!" Peredhil pocketed five geld and moved away to look at the other sights. Wyvern looked in awe after him, shaking his head. "Boss," said Bravery from his perch, "I thought YOU were supposed to make THEM guess." Wyvern gave Bravery a startled look and began to run around his stand in pursuit of Peredhil. Just then, the knot in the stave in the barrel with the booze gave way. Bruteweiser began to gush in a stream. Dwarven skellies screamed "BOOOOOOOZE!" in delight. Minta screamed in happiness at the fun. Wyvern hit the booze-soaked mud which was suddenly in his path, and flew up into the air, only to come crashing down on his tail, spattering mud every where. Black fastidiously flicked mud from his clothes and began laughing at the mud-drenched Almost Dragon's expression...

"How are you doing today," she inquired brightly. He had a headache. No, his head pounded. No, there were all seven dwarves, hammering molten iron into incandescent wires they called nerves. Without the plume and stench of cooling water. That didn't capture it either. His nerves were extending like antennae several feet beyond his skin, itching with sensitivity, curling and writhing in an effort to catch every nuance of sound and race it back to be amplified in his skull. Which was producing somewhat the same effect as putting an egg in front of the amp at a Rock concert - after an hour, it ends up soft-boiled. Eggs. The thought of eggs brought bitter acid up into his throat to burn like lava. Like a lava lamp, the blobs of pain moving and shifting slowly into fractal patterns, ever burning and never quite repeating enough to be acknowledged and ignored. He dreaded light, that harbringer of life and existence, which would drive away the soothing darkness and pound slivered barbed spikes into his left eye, igniting fireworks and streamers and Roman candles of exquisite sensation beyond pain. Rolling over, he replied, "Fine, be up in a moment Dear." ~~~~~ The moonlight kissed the flesh that had never seen sunshine. It glowed a silvered ivory in the dark, a beacon of desire contrasting with the deep tan. A hand moved, a caught breath... released slowly. A shiver without cold, hair rising, aching, to caress back the jasmine scented palm hovering over it. Butterfly kisses burning like fire spirals down the inside of a wrist to end lightly lipping lacquired fingernails. . Labored breathing, tension building, toes curling and clenching in uncontrollable reflex. Cuddling and whispering in the dark, the moon merely a memory of hours past.

Remembering Hitler is positive for the reason you state. I personally would not want to be remembered AS a Hitler figure... Good read! Thank you for posting.

Due to my personal belief system, I'm not afraid death itself. I really don't have much interest in world renown - everyone remembers Hitler, but is that a positive thing? I'd much more rather try to touch the lives, in a helpful supportive way, with whom I come in contact. Even if they don't ever remember me, hopefully they'll grow in some way and the touch will ripple out long after I'm forgotten. In a more immediate death-response, in my family tradition, when someone dies, we gather for the funeral. Everyone brings a picture, a memory, a story to share with those gathered, celebrating the deceased's life. Then the closest relative gathers all the memories and such and make a little "scrapbook" type thing and gives out copies to the relatives, so that future generations can know the person behind the name and pictures. I guess as long as the tradition and memento books are passed on, it's a form of immortality on earth. It also is a small incentive to be a little more patient at times, as the survivors get to write your book - at the funeral, everyone is *very* honest. Good thought provoking question!

When Peredhil stepped through a Portal into his chambers, he was struck motionless by a thought. It was worth pursuing immediately. He'd rejoin the others later.

The Dreamer found himself nodding back as Peredhil ambled away down the corridor. Such an oddly passive little Elf. Shaking his head, he closed Door and went back to his thoughts

As the Door's awareness flashed away for a moment, Peredhil immediately began closing down everything. Thanking each one, he sent a wave of love and affection wafting back down each river... stream... cable... rope... thread... channel... Potential... The Door opened and the last of the light around Vilya faded in the radiance that was the Dreamer. Peredhil hastily adjusted his eyes away from spiritual auras and back into the more normal views. For a moment, he thought he'd guessed wrong, but the unfamiliar expression contorting the Dreamer's scarred face was a smile. Peredhil beamed back a smile of his own. "I do hope you don't mind an interruption, but I wanted to ask you a question." The Dreamers eyes cycled briefly through yellow and purple before coming back to green. "Ya?" he asked warily. "Annael is missing and we're going to search for her. Before we began, I just wanted to ask if you were involved, so we wouldn't waste our time or chance interfering in your plans." The Dreamer mentally smiled as Peredhil managed to ask without asking. He touched his traps and checked his snares. None of his Enemies had triggered any by showing interest in the Pen. Eyes shifting, he frowned. "Naw, I know nothin' 'bout her absence, m'lord Peredhil, an' I 'aven't got any idea where she might be." Dismissing the issue to those more interesting in solving it, he raised an eyebrow at Peredhil who hastily responded with a chipper, "No, no. That's it, just wanted to ask. Have a good day!"

In his place of repose, the Dreamer stirred uneasily. There was a whisper on the edge of hearing, the memory of an itch, a remembered smell. His enemies were Powerful and Clever, Gods and Devils. He began to investigate even this minor irritation. Had something found him? His eyes began shifting colors as he concentrated, then flashed an wryly amused green. Power or no power, even he had trouble viewing the Ancient half-elf standing Politely outside his Door as a threat. A finger twitch, and the Door began to open.

He moved through the Pen without meeting any of the others. Coming at last to the passage, he paused to catch his breath. Just finding the passage was difficult enough for most Pen inhabitants. Not that it was hidden, that would provoke curiositly. It was a subtle pressure, which worked from within, a tiny voice saying, "I think it's shorter to go this way over here." No one walked down the corridor by accident, and never without an act of will. He stopped before the blank wall. Not smoothly blank, but weathered like the rest of the stone. It wasn't halfway down the passage, in the middle, and sometimes it wasn't on the same wall. Peredhil had a feeling that the Pen moved, but the Door stayed constant. Like most Doors in the Pen Keep, this Door liked him. Most Runes, Sigals, and Wards tended to like him. It wasn't anything he did on purpose, it was just a side effect of who he was, and how he related to whatever Plane he was in. Everyone knew that Yui Temae was a Planes Walker. And Valdar of course. As a point of fact, most of the Pen members had their own little ways of slipping between world, dimensions, universes, and Planes. A Planes Walker worked with the primal energies which were common to all existences, and some things which didn't exist. The most powerful and obvious of the Planes Walkers was the Dreamer. It was usually overlooked that Peredhil was a Walker as well. Although he and his boys called it Adept Magic, it had the same roots. Annael was missing. If the Dreamer was involved, then there was nothing at all the rest of the Pen could really do about it. Before he began searching in other places, he'd decided to slip away and Politely ask the Dreamer to avoid potentially wasting everyone's time. He realized he'd been standing letting his thoughts wander for an indeterminate amount of time. As he gathered his thoughts, one of the minor Wards winked at him. He smiled back and let his appreciation for its subtlety show. It twinkled happily and he stealed himself not to become lost in its glamour once more. To ask the Dreamer a question, one first had to attract his attention. Attracting the Dreamer's attention could be instantly fatal. A pretty conundrum. Peredhil thought he had an answer. He began gathering Power. A silent inflow from a thousand thousand links throughout his journeys. Small potentials became channels, routed through the fabrics which separated the Planes. Strings and cables, ropes and roads, they began to gather existence. He wasn't drawing any power yet, just opening the potentials to gather it. Like a storm on the horizon his power drew near. A Sensitive in the corridor might have sensed the inflow. The Door murmured its appreciation even as it prepared to guard and defend the privacy of its Master. Like gold wires, channels began to trickle the smallest amounts of Power. Threads seated in dying stars, expanding universes, mana-rich volcanos. A slumbering Entity called Growth sent a sleepy tendril of Plant Life to its old friend. Vilya was beginning to shine with a harsh actine light, as the channels met at the Ring and were filtered into the Ring's master. Peredhil began to glow, painfully bright. His grey eyes darkened with the stir of memories he'd left behind; possessing such power, it took great restraint and wisdom not to use it. He'd not always been wise enough, or controlled enough. The Power pooled and crackled around him, small worms of raw energy writhing away from his aura to be eagerly consumed by the Door. The inflow washed, pooled, came to a stasis. All he'd done was open the potentials, all he worn was the shadow of a shadow of Power. Unless he released it, he could hold no more. And so he waited.

Very vivid Imagery on these. You know, if you'd put "weenie" in the subtopic, any one of these soul-tearing poems could've bought off that "weenie award".

Ha! Advance notice! I'll move you up my prayer list.

Peredhil pops back in from five hours of driving, eating a belated Thanksgiving meal, and debugging code with a flash. Thus far, the Ring is returning him from Life quickly, but he hopes if it becomes a struggle, others will carry on until the Ring's magic returns him. Stick, excellent idea! I suggest we eliminate the immediate and obvious before we try the delayed and obtuse. As long as there is a group with one more person than all the rest (counted singly rather than as a total), we should be able to active the Rings and return to the group. The only drawback I can see is that the Rings return you from the group to where you were when you used them (or were plucked away, as Life keeps ceasing me). I'm thinking that Tanuchan should lead a party to explore the Inner Guild areas, Gyrfalcon should take someone other than Salinye to explore the Tower. (we DO want your eyes sharp for Annael, dear friend, but when you're around her, you have eyes for no other woman, no offense intended.) I'll take a person or two and search the FAQs and Inner Walls. We'll meet back at the Courtyard. If anyone else comes late, Elrohir will wait here to brief them on what's happening, and offer them a Ring. Is that okay with y'all? The Butterflies whirled like a living rainbow into the air, and settled on Elrohir like the finest of raiment, signaling their assent.

With a flicker Peredhil blinks out and after an hour is back. Well, dealt with Sweet Potatoes, Anti-virus updates, moving a couch, and a moment at a Magi BBQ. I guess the Rings *DO* work. Of sorts. I'm still here with the majority of worn Rings! I'll leave the rest of the Rings here - that way others can join as they desire and have time. If any of us are dragged away by Life, we'll be able to rejoin the group. Speaking of which...He takes an extra ring for Annael for when they find her, I'll just take this one for our angel. Looking around, he beams happily. What a marvelous group we have so far! With Knight and Gnarlitch along, (you ARE wearing your Rings in case we're separated, yes?) I feel safe in leaving Guido and Nuncio behind. Anyone have an idea where Life could've hidden Annael? At his words, the Butterflies took flight and milled about in a twister of dismay. Tracking their angel was THEIR job, and they felt guilty at having lost her.

Peredhil looked around at the hands and sadly noted that Life was making serious inroads into the Pen Membership. Many had signs of the malady that no Ring of Healing could assuage. If he could've looked in a mirror at that point, he would've (under the butterflies) seen symptoms on his own visage as well. Sending Elrohir (for Elladan was in The Reincarnation running armies) to his chambers, Peredhil had El' place a chest on the table. Given all the time restraints placed on us, I propose we use these. Blowing dust off the cover of the coffer, he unlocked and opened it. Small shimmering Rings glimmered in black felt. Curious butterflies descended to investigate and suddenly there were a winged rainbow of rings. Each of these is an unkeyed Ring. Now that the Butterflies have so nicely Keyed themselves, I propose we each take a Ring with its butterfly. What this will do is provide teleportation from whereever a person is, to the largest cluster of rings, and back to the individual's starting point. They wax and wane and have odd side effects, not fully researched. This was the Beta set. But this will allow us to participate in the Hunt for Annael as we can afford the time to do so, popping in and out as we have time. Taking a ring, he put it on. The sapphire blue butterfly batted its wings nerviously, but hung on like grim death. It was willing to make sacrifices for its mistress.

Sounds like Salinye, bless her heart.

Happy Birthday - and GET WELL!!!

For the time-challenged, could we see a list here at the bottom of who still owes dates?

It was an "I'll search the bodies" thing It had chocolate frosting, so of course I sucked it. Hey, cook another one with the Manticore topping. Two Dwarf burgers and a coke please.

Ooooooh. Way to grill that weenie award!