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I got up and started pacing around the room, looking for a way to escape the sudden breakout of a UFO hunters’ convention.
“Give me one freaking break,” I said, trying not to shout or descend into hysterical hysteria. “Please don’t tell me this is all about Roswell and big government cover-ups.”
“No,” Stella said. “It’s not about Roswell. Well, only to the extent that Roswell is part of the cover-up.”
“What in the hell is that supposed to mean?” Continue reading
I saw a quote recently that said nothing ever goes as planned – you wind up where you are by accident no matter what your big plans are. It’s a variation of the proverbial John Lennon quote, “Life is what happens while you’re busy making other plans.”
And so, as I review my announced plans for 2017 for this month-late update, I don’t feel terribly bad about saying, well, Life happened. Continue reading
(scene 1, part 1) (scene 1, part 2) (scene 2)(scene 3)(scene 4)(scene 5)(scene 6)(scene 7)(scene 8)
Pete Bratcher walked out of his barn as I clattered up in my pickup truck. Stella, or Kathleen or Whoever Her Name Was, stepped out behind him. It didn’t feel reassuring that both were cradling rifles. They seemed to relax when it became clear no one was in the truck with me and no one was following me. What, did they think I’d bring the law with me, or that the law would insist on coming along?
Maybe it was me putting airs on Pete now that I had some idea he was more than he seemed, but I felt like there was a sharpness and an edge to the way he carried himself this morning, as opposed to good old rumpled and relaxed Peter who was everybody’s pal.
The girl – why after the last 30-40 years is it still OK to call a young woman a girl? – wore her ever-present baseball cap with the ponytail through the back and the thin line of a mouth. The T-shirt and jeans showed how trim she was, as always, which I admit would be distracting if not for her firm “can’t touch this” attitude and the fact that I was too upset to notice that sort of thing just then. Continue reading