"Renegade priests and treacherous young witches..."
I'm picking barley out of my teeth; never mind. It snowed again. Or is snowing, rather. Everything out there is varying shades of the same color, even if I'm not precisely sure which color. Maybe someone will, someday, weave something useful out of all the breath I've wasted expressing my hatred of winter. But it won't be me. The sky looks like spoiled milk. Yesterday, Sirenia Digest #107 went out to subscribers. That's one hundred and eight issues since November 2005. There wasn't much else. Kathryn made chili. That was that.