The tale of Rue’s haunt of Tammond Dale is no more. It’s over, damn you, and done. The tale describing an undead lagomorph intent on rending Kyle’s soul has been concluded, and I can only hope I avoided being obvious. Now I must combine the hundreds of separate entries into one giant thing and format it as expected by publishers. I need to print, edit, and refine.
First, I’d like to take this opportunity to thank everyone who managed to come to the party on the 22nd. Richard and Bettina, you didn’t drink nearly enough, but you provided me with reading material, so all is forgiven.
At precisely 11:16PM tonight, I’ll have persisted upon this world for a grand-total of three decades. To understand the true significance of this, I believe I should clarify.
I never would have imagined, after meeting the man, that Patrick O’Lone would allow marriage to sully his reputation. But it’s true, and I’m happy for both him and Sarah. More Surprising, of course, is that Chris Murley is following his example a mere three weeks later. On September 29th, Hillary officially joins the disfunctional family I grudgingly left behind when I moved to Chicago. They’re all growing up so fast, it brings a tear to my eye.