I've started spring cleaning my office, and I've decided to get rid of all the extra author copies of my novels I have stowed away. I plan to donate some to the library and some to Goodwill next week, but most will go in the recycling bin. I do not expect my friends to take them off my hands, but if you guys want any print copies of any of my novels, now would be the time to let me know. I'll ship them to you for free, and even flat sign them for you so they'll be worth a little more. :)
This was our little Thanksgiving dinner last year, when it was just the three of us. Time keeps whittling down my favorite holiday; this year it will be just me and my guy, and we likely won't even have a turkey.* That will be a first in 35 years. I feel about Thanksgiving the way other people do about Christmas, and while it's a lot of work it's my favorite holiday. Of all the Thanksgivings I've had in the past sixty years, only three were truly terrible: one when I was a kid that I don't talk about (#1 most miserable); the time I roasted two turkeys together and hosted fifteen people whom I cooked for and served with zero help (the largest and #2 most miserable); and the one I spent in basic training (the #3 most miserable.) I have no pictures of any of those, thank heavens. In addition to doing all the cooking I'm the one who takes all the pictures, washes all the dishes and puts away all the leftovers. I suppose no one else cares because to them it...
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