I Do Not Smell Good Textures

This afternoon's thesis reading in Mankato was fun. All three readings were good, but as predicted, Kassie's was great. She read a story she wrote after she handed in her thesis, and it was hysterical and voicy and strange--like all of Kassie's stories. And like Kassie, for that matter. One of her characters, a Moldovan girl named Tatiana, actually said, "I do not smell good textures." I'm sure it was funnier in person than it is here, because of the voices Kassie was using, but it's had me chuckling since we got back.

After the story, Diana turned around and whispered, "I forgot how much I love Kassie." It really was great.

The party afterward was at Terry Davis's place, and it was the typical party at Terry's: a ton of food, about seven coolers of beer, a table full of margarita-fixins, and too many people to fit in the house. Good thing he has a couple of sizable porches. It was good to see familiar faces again. Diana, Terry, Kassie, Nick Healy, Ed Micus, Nate, Phil, Reed, Nicole. It was great to be among writers. Man, I miss that atmosphere.

But then we left, drove home in the dusk. Saw deer grazing in St. Peter and along the Minnesota River. Now we're home, and I think I need to write for a bit before going to bed. I haven't felt this peaceful in a long time. Good things are accumulating.