Transitions

A while back, I wrote about change, and how even while it can be painful, it is ultimately a good thing.

So, I guess it's a good thing that I changed my plans?

Yeah. It is.

I was fortunate enough to be invited to spend a few more days at the amazing retreat where I have gotten so much work done in the last week or so. For this, I owe thanks upon thanks, upon thanks. Seriously. If there is such a thing as a karmic debt, which I doubt (and for which suggestion I will likely be lectured at for hours by a particular person who knows who he is), then I owe BIG.

However, this opportunity comes with a small price -- I've had to say goodbye to the writers and agents and editors with whom I have bonded over the last week, and prepare myself to find something in common with a whole new group.

I found what that thing is, or things -- we are people, and we all write, and we all love words.

And I must say, this new crew strikes me as quite cool and fun and interesting. They showed up with tequila, which, really, is the hallmark of all really cool people....Patron Silver to be precise.

And so, while it may continue to be a word party, a party of word slingers all slinging words, with tequila tossed in, I only see myself embracing this latest change, after welcoming it with open arms.

And for some of my compatriots who have gone back to their lives, I say this:

Naked Hot Tub Guy: Get some swim trunks
Ms. Gale: Yes, we do quite like our new arrival a lot, and on your scale he gets the elusive compound: sex and popcorn
Girl Robin: Even a low maintenance hairstyle is a hairstyle and I can't wait to live according to your theory
Ms. Randall: Your found poetry is only slightly less exquisite than your written poetry
House Hemmingway: Thanks for the pliers
Mr. Hoffman: Yes I will bear your math-genius children...SET!
Ms. Fairbank: limericks are always appropriate, as are gnomes
Ms. I Can Make Anything Sound Like Sex poetess: never have herbs been so...appealing
Ms. Musician: keep reading out loud and keep writing your heart.

And I remain: Deb, in the Kitchen, with the giant Potato Masher.

Wonder what impression the next crew will leave?

The final snippet: "Oh, my. I think I need rubber gloves for this..." (don't ask. Really. I won't tell anyway.)