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To Prevent Fallapart

Well, it was a good holiday. T-day dinner was lighter in attendance than in previous years (only nineteen twenty-three attendees), but it was the usual anarchy. Ian did as well as could be expected: brought him inside to see everyone and he promptly burst into tears. Oh, the humanity. He eventually warmed up, but it took a while. Even so, a baby is an unstable thing. We had three family meals over the last three days, and were the first ones to leave every time. Just the way it is.

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Tangent just reviewed two more pubs I'm associated with: Flytrap and Aberrant Dreams. Sure, they didn't talk about my poetry in the Flytrap review, but it was still lovely all the same.

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I will close here, as it is hard to type with a 24-pound cat on one arm.

Reading: Hundred Dollar Baby, by Robert B. Parker.