Wednesday, November 16, 2011
I woke remembering a good dream. I was attending a writers retreat and hanging out with Vendela Vida. She borrowed one of my spaghetti strapped tops to go out one night (Yes, I know...do writers go out at night while attending retreats? One might assume, no, they are too busy working or fretting about not working, but I haven't attended such a retreat, so I don't really know. For me, the act remains completely plausible). She liked my top. I felt a little starstruck, but played it cool and pretended it was no big deal.