Chloe is back!
Please prepare your carefully manicured flowerbeds to be tromped on by big, ungainly feet.
Please post advisories on the shores of your Mainstream. Clumsy, gangly, but terribly well-meaning Ms. Stowe will be splashing yet again in your calm waters. Fish may be injured.
Please alert your purveyors of weather that a tiny, ragged cloud of panic and self-doubt may indeed litter your cornflower blue skies this afternoon. No need to run and hide; cowering in a spot of brilliant sunshine will do.
All silliness aside, I do plan to start back on the Six Brothers today.
As it stands at this moment, Leo still lives. Most likely the fate of the youngest sibling will not be determined for several days yet.
Perhaps my little forced sabbatical for Thanksgiving madness will have provided the much needed kick-in-the-butt to get things truly rolling? If so, Leo will survive. I like my gunsmith and his significant other. It would be a terrible shame to lose them to Author Ineptness.
So, please, wish me and the literary world well as we again collide. (And keep an especially good thought for the poor fish.)