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“Before we call this meeting to order, a wee round of applause for our dear Jayne for this lovely box of ridiculously fattening treats that we will all live to regret tomorrow when we have to add three hundred crunches to our morning workouts,” Gretchen says.
She might have to add three hundred crunches; I have a small Piewalker box hiding in our fridge for my morning workout.
Though this is only my second foray into Gretchen’s Tuesday-night writers’ group, it’s clear that a pattern is followed here: wine, snacks, more wine, a little writing stuff, and then wine.
They should rebrand themselves as budding sommeliers rather than wishful wordsmiths.
Suzette did change her sweater from the last time I saw her—this one’s red—but a moth has made dinner out of the lower edge. After seeing
