Blue Egg

photo by Catherine Ledford

Linda and Tom,
Happy Easter from the Friendship Baptist Church in G'ville. I love the blue egg and hope you do, too.
Katy

Looking Out My Back Door

7:24 p.m.

A Package from the Publisher

I told you I had the sweetest damn publisher in the whole damn world.

We Miss You, Anna.

Anna leaves. The sky turns gray. A sad drawing appears on the beach.

My Author Copies Came!

Anna!

Walking in my colorful neighborhood   photo by msmasmushly

You will never in a thousand years believe who I finally got to meet: Anna. 

I've been following her blog for over two years. I'm crazy about her photos and her writing. She lives and works on a hill farm in the Finger Lakes region of New York. Her sister in L.A. just had a baby, so Anna flew over to see her and then made her way up the coast. Msmasmushly knew her first; and the three of us had the best time together. We walked, we talked, we ate, we took photos. We had our cake and ate it too, and then we walked some more.

Anna at Outerlands. We ate Outside at Outerlands no less. The big heat lamps did the trick.

Msmasmushly, Anna & me after eating the cake Aggles helped me with over the phone.

Standing behind Louis'  7:02 p.m.

Saturday Night Writer's Special

The Writing Salon readings at Progressive Grounds remind me of being read to as a child.

Reading Glasses

I'm reading The News from Spain by Joan Wickersham. A+

Back at our own Nitty Gritty City Beach

Somebody drew all over this rock!

Down the Coast

The woods above Moss Beach

Treasures found on Moss Beach

This is the second day of our 3-day vacation, which started on Sunday. Yesterday we drove up the coast and today we drove down the coast. Tomorrow can we stay home? Sleep, read Sunday's paper, have an egg sandwich for breakfast made out of leftover pizza? That would be heaven.

The world was our oyster

at Saltwater. Tom had oysters nephropidae with garlic butter, I had pizza margherita.

p.s. Oh no. I was afraid of this.

Everything you want to know about yourself can be found in your relationship with food.
~ Ashley Paquin (from Anna's blog today)

And from Jamie:

Am I to understand that you don't eat oysters? Oh Linda. I didn't until I was well into my forties, but with the gentle coaching of Eva B. one night in front of her fireplace, I learned to love them. And my heart breaks that you'd opt for a pizza. (This from the guy who once left Eva sitting at a restaurant alone, because I'd forgotten our dinner date and already "had a Tombstone pizza in the oven." No one in my group has ever let me forget that. They shouldn't!)