Scenes & Beans

A Final Note After the Hostage Situation

2008-06-16T07:00:00.000-07:00

Hello, all, Bailey here. I'm sorry we've been away from the blog for so long. As you can imagine, we've needed time to rebuild our lives after the tragedy, both emotionally and physically.

All of us Scenes and Beans posters are coming along. Some are still healing physically. We have been very busy restoring Java Joint, as the interior was devastasted by bullets. The counter and the space around it has been replaced, along with the stools. Walls have been repaired. John and I have had a lot of help from townspeople, and of course, from the Scenes and Beans folks.

Wilbur wants you to know he likes his new stool even better than the first one. (He says he didn't want the first one back anyway after a certain man chose to sit on it.) As for S-Man, he's signing his contracts for the two-book publishing deal. With all the media attention after the horrible events here on Memorial Day weekend, his first book, Starfire, has received plenty of buzz already. I know you all will enjoy reading it when it's published.

I am not going to comment directly on the events. You all have read the papers and seen the news. There is little left for us to say. This post is a more personal one for you, our friends, who've been reading this blog for almost two years now. We have enjoyed you so much. We've loved meeting those of you who made the trip to Kanner Lake and stopped by Java Joint to say hi. We want you to know we will forever treasure the online friendships we've made here.

But after what happened, I'm sure you'll understand that we no longer feel we can post on Scenes and Beans. Does that mean if this blog didn't exist, the hostage situation may never have happened? I don't know. Perhaps the three men who were so desperate would have come anyway. Or perhaps they would have chosen to go somewhere else, and other people would have paid the horrible price for that decision. We only know that despite what did happen, God was with us. In the darkest of moments, He was there. We clung to him that afternoon, and we cling to Him now and thank Him for bringing us through.

As you know, the thousands of comments that came in after our last post taxed our blog. Many of you tried leaving messages on previous posts before the blog finally crashed. When we got the blog up and running again, I had to delete all those messages. (Of course there were some from that horrible day that we would have deleted anyway.) Please know we read your kind words and notes of prayer, and were so heartened by all of them. Thank you, thank you for your concern for all of us.

I will be leaving Scenes and Beans up for now, although comments have been turned off so the thing doesn't crash again. Maybe from time to time you'll reread some of the stories we've told you over the past two years. And we still hope you will come visit us in Kanner Lake. Although much has happened to our quiet little town in the past two years, we all sense that we're about to enter a quiet time again. Good thing. We need some rest. :)

Blessings and love to all of you.

--Bailey and the entire Scenes and Beans crew

A Java Joint Celebration

2008-05-19T07:00:00.000-07:00

We are all so proud of S-man for selling his novel! Plus a sequel!

The Scenes and Beans bloggers are going to have a special celebration for our star author this Saturday at 8:00 a.m. at Java Joint. What a great way to start Memorial Day weekend--by witnessing S-Man signing his contract.

The book business seems so slow, doesn't it? We have to wait until next year for Starfire to be published. We'll have another huge party then for sure. The whole town will be invited for that one. In the meantime we look forward to this weekend.

Three cheers for S-Man!

News of a Lifetime

2008-05-15T07:00:00.000-07:00

Shnakvorum Rikoyoch (Greetings, Friends). S-Man here with the news I've been waiting on for a long time. My science fiction manuscript, Starfire, has sold to a major publisher. As if that's not enough, my agent managed to get a two-book contract for me. I'll be starting the sequel to Starfire right away.

The timeline as it now stands: Starfire will be published around May next year, with the second book following around January of 2010.

I'm so overwhelmed I can hardly believe this has happened. I've been working hard on writing for a number of years now, as you know. This feels like a dream. If it is, I hope I keep on sleeping.

Thanks to all of you who have encouraged me along the way. I'm going to need more of it. Now I have to come up with a second book ...

-- S-Man

Chasing Eva--Part 3

2008-05-08T07:00:00.000-07:00

So there we were, Bev, Eva Longoria, and I, sprawled on the sidewalk.

Red-faced and nearly beside myself with fluster, I managed to shove my hefty body to my feet. I held out my hand to Eva (Bev could manage to get up on her own). "Oh, I'm so sorry! Oh, oh! Are you hurt?"

Eva untangled herself from Bev, assuring me she was fine. Bev said the same. I pulled Eva up, and Bev tottered to her feet, glaring at me with the darkness of a tempest storm. Boy, I did not look forward to being alone with her. We brushed the dirt off our slacks. My elbow smarted something terrible.

Next thing I knew, a blond-haired man was standing beside us, eyes wide. "Amanda!" He was looking at Eva. "What happened? I've been waiting for you in the car."

Amanda?

Amanda looked at the man, then at me. I looked at her, then at Bev. Bev just kept glaring.

Eva (Amanda?) grabbed onto Blondie like a drowning woman just thrown a lifeline. "I'm fine. I guess. I was just . . . getting acquainted with some of the locals."

Finally, I found my voice. "Amanda?" I squeaked. "You mean, you're not Eva Longoria?"

She laughed. "Oh, everybody says that. It's not the first time. But no, I'm Amanda Bellingsworth, a seamstress from Montana, here on vacation." She gave me a look. "Sometimes the mix-ups can be more dangerous than others."

Amanda. A seamstress. Not Eva. I'd chased her, knocked her down. Well, with the help of a fool dog. She was going to think I was totally nuts. She'd think the whole town was nuts. At first I couldn't think of a thing to say. Then once I opened my mouth it wouldn't shut again. I said something about how lovely it was to meet her and I hoped their vacation was wonderful, and really, Kanner Lake wasn't a town full of a bunch of idiots, it just looked like it, and I just knew my friend Bev was going to lay into me the minute we were alone . . . I'd have kept right on blabbing if Bev hadn't clamped her hand over my mouth.

"She IS crazy," Bev declared to Amanda. "It's ALL I can do to keep her in line." Bev pursed her mouth at me and grabbed hold of my arm. "We'll be going now." And with no chance for another word, she stalked away, pulling me with her.

I looked back over my shoulder to give Amanda and her man a tiny little wave. She shook her head at me, and they went their way, and we went ours. Bev didn't let go of my arm until we were in Java Joint. Even then she threatened to chain me to my chair at our table. We drank our coffees in silence.

Four days later and Bev's still mad at me. Probably because Wilbur won't stop teasing her about it. ("Chasing an actress, who'd a thought?") He's always looking to bring Bev down a peg or two. Anyway, would somebody out there tell her to lighten up? And Wilbur to shut up? Although it'll be a miracle if either one of them listens.

-- Angie

Chasing Eva--Part 2

2008-04-22T07:00:00.000-07:00

So there we were, Bev and I, trotting down the sidewalk to catch actress Eva Longoria. I tell you--that Bev protested the whole way. You'd have thought I was pulling her along to feed her to the lions.

"This is ridiculous!" she wheezed. "The things you get me into. And just what do you expect to do when you catch up to her?"

Well, she had a point. What do you say to one of your most favorite actresses?

Anything. It didn't matter what. I was just dying to meet her.

It didn't take long to catch up. Good thing I've lost so much weight. I just pulled Bev along. Eva paused to read a poster outside a shop window. It was then or never, so I called out to her.

"Yoo hoo! Hello there!"

She turned around, looking very flustered. Staring at us as if wondering if she was supposed to know us. I skidded to a halt and thrust out my hand. My tongue got all tied up. "Hi! Hello! I'm Angie. This is Bev. I'm dying to meet you. Angie's not, but she came along--wait, I didn't mean that. Of course she wants to meet you too."

Eva's eyes bounced from me to Bev and back. Slowly, she took my hand and shook it once. Then let go in a hurry.

"So how do you like Kanner Lake?" I gushed. ""We just love you here. I watch you all the time." A strange expression flitted across her face.

"You do?"

"Yes, yes, I just think you're so beautiful, and the way you stand up to that rat Albert on the show--"

Out of nowhere, a red blur bounded down the street. I knew at once it was Thelma Grady's Irish setter, Josie, loose again. Thelma lives just two blocks from downtown, and that crazy, overly friendly dog wriggles under the fence every chance she gets. Josie spied me and headed straight for the three of us at full speed.

"Aahhh!" Eva howled.

I stepped in front of her, protector of actresses that I am. Bev was left to fend for herself. Josie plowed into me with a vengeance, licking and barking happily. Well, my goodness, that dog knocked me clear off my feet! I fell into Bev, and Bev fell into Eva, and before you know it the three of us were sprawled on the sidewalk like Dominoes. Josie's tail went a mile a minute as she pranced right across Eva, then that idiot dog took off to find another victim of her excitement.

Oh, my! Eva Longoria, on the sidewalk--because of me! I thought I'd die of humiliation. Turned out, that would have been nice, given what happened next.

-- Angie

Chasing Eva--Part 1

2008-04-07T07:00:00.000-07:00

Angie here. Oh, my goodness, I have to tell you what happened. Embarrassed myself nearly to death, and now Bev's hardly speaking to me!

Bev and I were over at Simple Pleasures, looking at those beautiful oil wick candles Sarah has, when this woman walked in. As I lifted a jar to my nose, inhaling the deep berry fragrance, the woman sidled past me toward the back. I set the candle down and noticed her ogling a bracelet out of the corner of my eye. Dark hair, brown eyes, high cheekbones. She wasn't the usual sort of T (that's what we call tourists at Java Joint), but she looked vaguely familiar.

I whispered to Bev, "You see her before?"

Bev glanced at the woman, then shrugged. "Looks like that TV actress on Desperate Housewives, Eva Longoria."

She said it so calmly, as if such a thing happens every day. Well, I just happen to LOVE Eva Longoria. And Bev was right--it was her!

I grabbed Bev's elbow and pulled her toward Eva. "Oh, my, oh! We HAVE to go say hi." I was so excited, I could hardly breathe.

Something beside us crashed to the floor. I swiveled to see a picture frame and all its glass shattered. Sarah hurried from behind the counter and lifted the frame. Bev apologized, saying her arm had hit the frame as I pulled her along. She gave me 'the look' as Sarah went into the back to fetch a broom.

"I'm sorry. I'll pay for it," I whispered real fast. I was barely thinking. I was just dying to talk to Eva.

Bev glowered at me. "You certainly will. In more ways than one."

Sarah came back, a whiskbroom and a dustpan in hand. She began sweeping the pieces up and Bev brought the trashcan over. I had to help, or else I'd look completely uncaring. So I set to work furiously, and the next thing I knew, the bell over the door tinkled. I looked around. Eva was getting away! I pulled a twenty out of my wallet.

"Here." I thrust it at Sarah. "This ought to cover itSarah pushed it back to me. "The frame's only $15.99."

But I couldn't wait around to hear the rest of what she said. "That's Eva Longoria!" I cried. "I've watched her for years on TV, and I'll just die if I don't meet her!" I grabbed Bev's arm, and before she knew what hit her, we were scooting toward the door. "Keep the change, Sarah, we'll see you later!" I shoved open the door.

Of course about that time Bev dug in her heels. "I will NOT pursue an actress down the street like some mindless groupie; I don't care WHO she is."

Eva turned the corner out of sight. Oh, no! What if she got into a car and drove away?

"Bev Trexel," I whirled on my friend, "if you don't go with me, I'll never let you hear the last of it. Do it for me, if not for yourself!"

Well. Bev's lots of things, but most of all, she's a good friend to me.

"The things you get me into." She shook her head, then huffed mightily. All the same, she set out with me to catch Eva. She never would have done it, though, if she'd known what trauma was coming.

-- Angie

An Agent Enters the Picture

2008-03-06T07:00:00.000-08:00

Shnakvorum Rikoyoch (Greetings, friends).

After being quiet on this blog for a long time, I have amazing news. Last month I signed a contract with a literary agent for my novel Starfire. That agent is now sending the manuscript around to major publishers.

The above three sentences sound so factual. So easy. But how hard it has been getting to that point! I have written this novel, then rewritten and rewritten some more. First rewrites were of my own doing. Then when I finally decided it was ready to send to agents, I found a number of them interested, but I needed to do more rewriting at their request. I didn't know I could ever grow tired of my own novel, but after looking at its pages so many times, that's exactly what happened.

The day I signed with the agent was a major day of celebration around here. I showed up to Java Joint the next morning--with no laptop. That's right. I came just to enjoy the coffee and my friends. I figured I deserved some time off of writing. But half an hour after arriving, I didn't know what to do with myself. I found myself gazing at my table longingly, wishing for my computer. I must be a real author. Either that or I'm crazy.

(Wilbur says he knows the answer to that question.)

I will keep you posted about what happens. Unfortunately now it's another waiting game while editors look over the manuscript. My agent says I have a good chance of selling it, but I'm not getting excited about anything until I see my name on the dotted line of a publishing contract.

All right, maybe I'm a little excited ...

--S-Man

Bearly Here

2008-01-28T07:00:00.000-08:00

Hello, Wilbur Hucks here. I haven't posted for a blue moon, seems like. We're all kinda quiet this year. I gotta tell ya, life is different in Kanner Lake from when we started this blog. So much has happened here. I never did see a little town like this one make the national news so much in such a short time. Oh, things have calmed down again--for now. But after three different whopping events, we can't quite get the hang of settling down for good. Sort of like an itchy feelin' in your drawers. Keeps you wiggling around, not quite able to scratch the thing. Here at Java Joint we can't help but wonder what's coming next.

Anyway, I'm supposed to be the storyteller of this here group, so I'd better pull out one. Now of course, all my stories are true, even though folks'll look ya straight in the face and tell ya they ain't. I figure it's their loss if they don't want to believe what I tell 'em.

So here's the story when I took on a bear--bare-handed. Well, more like footed.

Since we were youngsters, old Wally Keller had been telling me he wanted to sneak up on a black bear and give him a boot in the pa-toot. Don't ask me where he got such a fool notion in his head. I told him from the start he was a downright idgit, but he kept on. Then he started calling me chicken 'cause I didn't want nothing to do with it. Nobody calls me chicken. Even at the age of eight. I told Wally if he and I ever got the chance, I'd be the one to give it to the bear. Fifty-some years went by. Wally and I grew up. Wally and me went off to war and came back. (Thank the Lord.) Wally got married; I got married. We both had kids. Had us some good times with our families and some bad. In all the ruckus of life in general, we forgot about that childhood promise.

Then one day when Wally and I were hiking, lo and behold out of the blue we came up on a big black bear napping in the sun with his head resting on his paws. Wally pointed at the huge critter and then aimed his finger at me. I was about to shake my head no when Wally mouthed "You're chicken." Well, he's right about that. But then I got to thinking, doggone, we'd waited over half a lifetime for that moment, and could this war veteran just walk away? Right then and there my decision was made.

I snuck up on that bear so quiet it would have made Daniel Boone proud. Got my feet set for running, hands up and fingers spread for balance. Holding my breath. Up came one foot while I made good and sure I was stable on the other. Then I let my boot fly. Tell you what. That bear let out a howl the likes you never heard and took off like he'd been shot out of a cannon. Likely didn't stop until he crossed the state line.

Wally and I fell on the ground laughing until we near split our guts. I came back from that hike with the proof I'm no chicken, though I suppose you could call me a durn fool. But I had me a good story to tell.

Wanta hear it in person? (It's a whole lot better with hand and food gestures.) Come visit us at Java Joint. Only--stay off the stool near the counter. It's mine.

Ink and Paper

2008-01-09T07:00:00.000-08:00

"It isn't the magnitude of an event that makes it news; it's the people reporting it."

Those are the words of my wise grandfather.

Suddenly in Kanner Lake we find ourselves in a new year. Where did the last one go? In 2006 and 2007 our town saw big news--national news--happen right here. Events we wouldn't wish on any town, much less ours. We all are looking forward to a quiet 2008. As owner of the Kanner Lake Times, I'll be happy to return to reporting on everyday stories of our town. Which brings me back to my grandfather's wisdom.

"Jared," he'd say, "The world's best golfer could be some Eskimo in Alaska, whacking a snowball with a stick. Big news, right? Wrong! Not unless some reporter finds him, and writes a story. Then it's news." He ended every conversation on the topic with the same line: "There's no greater power than that which is generated by the combination of ink and paper."

Grandfather started the Kanner Lake Times in 1944 and ran it with the enthusiasm of Wily Coyote chasing the Roadrunner. It didn't matter to him that not much interesting happened in Kanner Lake. The way Granddad reported things, every pie bake-off and fishing tournament was big news. He had a way of getting people excited about things that weren't exciting. He certainly got me excited. At eight years old, I could hardly wait to start working on the paper.

Actually, I couldn't wait, so I started my own. The first and only edition of The Moore Monthly, came out in November 1944. I'd written my newspaper on notebook paper, then painstakingly copied it over and over fifty times (that was in the day before Xerox machines). A lot of work for a kid, but I didn't care. I'd be making ten cents for every paper I sold, I hoped. It was a nice little paper, considering it had an editor with a second grade education. I started with what I knew. Made a comic strip about my dog, Elmer, in which he stole a hot dog off the grill. The thought-bubble above his head said, "It really IS a dog-eat-dog world." I cheated on the weather report, copying information out of the real newspaper.

Since all newspapers have obituaries and I didn't know anyone dead, I wrote a nice little piece about my friend Tommy's goldfish, Speckle, who'd recently taken a tragic suicidal leap from his bowl. I covered every inch of Kanner Lake on my ten-speed, seeking out news and scribbling any interesting tidbit I could find in a little red notebook. My paper had stories about the Anderson's new kittens, the big fish a fifteen-year-old kid named Wilbur Hucks caught that weekend, and the mysterious damage to the stop sign at the corner of Barley and Hillwood Roads.

All of that would have been fine, but I didn't stop there. I'd heard Grand-dad say that you could always count on politics to fill up blank space. He'd also told me that a good reporter always looked for a unique angle--something other people didn't know. That's why I finagled a sleepover at Martin Pulaski's house. His dad, Martin Sr., was running for mayor. I figured I'd watch and listen closely to find out some little known fact about Mr. Pulaski, and I'd have my politics column. Too bad I didn't know enough to refrain from publishing the fact that Mr. Pulaski wore a toupee and enjoyed watching General Hospital every day.

My papers sold out in one lunch period and I made a killing, but once my customers brought them home and they fell into their parents' hands, I was in big trouble. Mom shut down my business, and Mr. Pulaski blamed me for his landslide loss in the mayoral race. To his dying day, he scowled at me whenever I met him on the street.

Ah, the power of reporting.

Signing off,

Jared Moore

A Nose for Fishing

2007-11-19T07:00:00.000-08:00

Hi, folks. Pastor Hank here, with a story from my first summer here. (Some 16 years ago.)

It was slow making friends as the new pastor. Everybody figured they had to be righteous or something around me, so they didn't want to do anything relaxing for fear of doing something "stupid." They never worried about the pastor being the one to do something dumb! One Sunday, Wilbur Hucks came up to me after church. (I think his wife may have done a little prodding, but he came nonetheless.) He asked if I wanted to do a little fishing the next Saturday. Boy howdy, did I! I'd grown up in Idaho, and if it's one thing this place has, it's good fishing. I'd been too busy to get out and drop a line. Now here was a local, wanting to take me to some sweet spot.

I was pretty excited to get my waders out and get my feet wet. Wilbur seemed a cantankerous sort, so I didn't want to set him off. I hoped to show him this "man o' God" could get right in there. I didn't know the best lure for this area, but I picked out some of my favorites. Wilbur drove up in his Chevy before the crack of dawn, and we were off. It was a quiet trip except for Wilbur always "honkin' his horn" as he put it. I'd never seen a man blow his nose so much. He said he was having trouble with allergies and never could seem to break open the dam in there.

We started into some small talk until we parked at the trailhead, and then we hiked a little ways to one of the tributaries that feeds Kanner Lake. Lovely area, with trees lining the shore. Wilbur was chatting a little more, telling me about life in town. He also started bragging about his fishing prowess. "I always land the big one," he bragged between nose wipes with his handkerchief. Our lines started dancing over the water, testing the fish to see what they'd bite. All the while, Wilbur couldn't stop blowing his schnoz. I couldn't take it any more after awhile.

"Wilbur, you're gonna scare the fish away a mile around if you keep it up!" I declared. He glared at me as if to say, "You young pup, who are you to be telling me to hold my honker."

In my peripheral vision I saw a big fish splash in the water. They hadn't been biting earlier, so I was determined to get this one. Just about the time I went to cast, Wilbur took a step toward me--and I hit him right square in his snoot. My line flew out just so--right where the fish had landed. Wilbur yelped and threw his hands to his face. "Wilbur, are you all right?" I asked. All the same, I didn't set the pole down. I wanted to catch that fish.

"Oh my node!"

I glanced over and saw blood on his fingers. I hadn't realized I'd hit him that hard. About that time I felt a powerful tug at the end of the line. Wow, what a fish it must be! He almost pulled the rod out of my hand. I look back at my wounded companion. I figured I was in big trouble now. I could read the headlines Jared Moore would be writing: Clumsy Local Pastor Gets Tied Up in Own Fishing Line. So much for making a new friend. Wilbur pulled out a handkerchief to stem the flow.

Instead of threatening me, Wilbur waved me back toward the stream. "Don't worry aboud me. You git dad monster!"

We were a sight, let me tell you. I was reeling in what would be the largest fish to come out of Cooper Creek in twenty years, according to the locals, while Wilbur cheered me on with his head tilted back, trying to stop the bleeding. I wrestled the beast to the shore, and after getting him secured, I packed up all the gear. I tottered down the trail with Wilbur leading the way, the occasional drop of blood escaping to mark our path. We reached the truck and got some ice out of the cooler.

After another 10 minutes or so, the flow slowed to a trickle, and then stopped. Wilbur was quite the vision, with blood and dirt smeared across him. I was sitting there as contrite as I could be, feeling awful about ignoring him while hauling in my prize. That is, until Wilbur slapped me heartily on the back. He sat on the tailgate, beaming, then pointed at his swollen nose.

"Hey, I can breathe! I can't remember the last time I didn't feel stuffed up. You knocked it loose just great." He looked me up and down before commenting, "You'll do good here in Kanner Lake, Hank Detcher."

Wilbur and I have been friends ever since.

We're Back

2007-11-12T07:00:00.000-08:00

Hi, folks, from Bailey--on behalf of all the Scenes and Beans bloggers. I know we've been quiet for a long time. But you all know why. We simply needed time to heal from the latest trauma in Kanner Lake.

We're going back now to our regular schedule of running stories from the lives of the S&B bloggers. Hope you enjoy them.

I know you all are wondering about Carla. She's doing fine. Right now she's vacationing far away at an undisclosed location, thanks to the gifts of some friends. There was simply no getting away from media here.

Greetings to all you reporters who spent time in Kanner Lake and are now back home--or somewhere else on the road. Wilbur wants you all to know if he snapped at you in Java Joint, he's sorry. He says come back and he'll try to behave better. Just leave your camera and notepad at home. And don't forget the fourth stool at the counter is his.

Love to you all. Thank you for your patience during this time of silence.

We're Alive and Thankful

2007-10-01T07:00:00.000-07:00

Hi, everyone, this is Bailey. I hardly know where to start.

I know you've heard the news by now. I suppose that's rather silly to even say, given that the whole world apparently is talking of little else. We had so many comments on our last post I actually had to delete them all. So sorry about that. They were sticking up our system, and it was the only thing I could do. Now the phone is been ringing off the hook.

I know I don't sound very with it. That's because I'm not. Neither is the rest of our crew. You have to understand we were as surprised at all the revelations as everyone else. But there's one difference here. We know Carla. We love her. We know the person she is, and we've seen how this whole thing is just about to pull her under. I do believe we have every person in the national media here in Kanner Lake. I know you've seen plenty pictures of Java Joint in your newspapers and on TV. This third time around, you'd think we'd be used to it. But not really. We just want our town to go back to normal. Again.

Wilbur's about to pitch a fit. Carla's his special buddy. They argue all the time, but he loves that. Carla's one who can give it right back to Wilbur. He's told three to four dozen reporters where to get off already. If I don't watch him, I do believe the man will start standing guard in front of Java Joint with a shotgun. Please, please, if any of you reporters make it into the coffee shop, don't sit on Wilbur's stool. I don't need any more grief in here.

And grief is certainly the operative word. We got enough of it to go around the whole state and then some. Carla's ... well, can you imagine being in her place? Her whole life's been turned upside down. I'd just like to ask all of you--can't you just leave her alone for awhile? Put yourself in her shoes. Imagine the stress. Really, she just needs to be left alone while this all sorts out.

Thank you all for your concern. We do appreciate it. We're just a little tired right now. Haven't had a lot of sleep. And we have a lot to deal with in the town. So please give us a few days to regroup. We're strong here in Kanner Lake. We always do bounce back. But I admit our bounce is feeling mighty slow right now.

-- Bailey, for all the bloggers at Java Joint

Fishing with Wilbur

2007-09-26T07:00:00.000-07:00

Hi, folks. It's been quite awhile since I posted. Bailey is right--we had plenty of tourists visit this summer. It was great to meet many of our Scenes and Beans readers! So why is Kanner Lake such a great place to visit? Oh, we've got the beautiful lake and the mountains around, with plenty of places to get in touch with creation. But there's more to this little town than a pretty postcard. This is a place where the stranger becomes family.

Let me tell you a story from my first summer here. It was slow making friends as the new pastor. Everybody figured they had to be righteous or something around me, so they didn't want to do anything relaxing for fear of doing something "stupid." They never worried about the pastor being the one to do something dumb! One Sunday, Wilbur Hucks came up to me after church. (I think his wife may have done a little prodding, but he attended that service nonetheless.) He asked if I wanted to do a little fishing the next Saturday. Boy howdy, did I! I'd grown up in Idaho, and if it's one thing this place has, it's good fishing. I'd been too busy to get out and drop a line. Now here was a local, wanting to take me to some sweet spot. I was pretty excited to get my waders out and get my feet wet.

Wilbur seemed a cantankerous sort, so I didn't want to set him off. I hoped to show him this "man o' God" could get right in there. I didn't know the best lure for this area, but I picked out some of my favorites. Wilbur drove up in his Chevy before the crack of dawn, and we were off. It was a quiet trip except for Wilbur always "honkin' his horn" as he put it. I'd never seen a man blow his nose so much. He said he was having trouble with allergies and never could seem to break open the dam in there.

We started into some small talk until we parked at the trailhead, and then we hiked a little ways to one of the tributaries that feeds Kanner Lake. Lovely area, with trees lining the shore. Wilbur was chatting a little more, telling me about life in town. He also started bragging about his fishing prowess. "I always land the big one," he bragged between nose wipes with his handkerchief.

Our lines started dancing over the water, testing the fish to see what they'd bite. All the while, Wilbur couldn't stop blowing his schnoz. I couldn't take it any more after awhile. "Wilbur, you're gonna scare the fish away a mile around if you keep it up!" I declared. He glared at me as if to say, "You young pup, who are you to be telling me to hold my honker."

In my peripheral vision I saw a big fish splash in the water. They hadn't been biting earlier, so I was determined to get this one. Just about the time I went to cast, Wilbur took a step toward me--and I hit him right square in his snoot. My line flew out just so--right where the fish had landed. Wilbur yelped and threw his hands to his face.

"Wilbur, are you all right?" I asked. All the same, I didn't set the pole down. I wanted to catch that fish.

"Oh my node!" I glanced over and saw blood on his fingers. I hadn't realized I'd hit him that hard. About that time I felt a powerful tug at the end of the line. Wow, what a fish it must be! He almost pulled the rod out of my hand. I look back at my wounded companion. I figured I was in big trouble now. I could read the headlines Jared Moore would be writing: Clumsy Local Pastor Gets Tied Up in Own Fishing Line. So much for making a new friend.

Wilbur pulled out a handkerchief to stem the flow. Instead of threatening me, he waved me back toward the stream. "Don't worry aboud me. You git dad monster!"

We were a sight, let me tell you. I was reeling in what would be the largest fish to come out of Cooper Creek in twenty years, according to the locals, while Wilbur cheered me on with his head tilted back, trying to stop the bleeding. I wrestled the beast to the shore, and after getting him secured, I packed up all the gear. I tottered down the trail with Wilbur leading the way, the occasional drop of blood escaping to mark our path. We reached the truck and got some ice out of the cooler. After another 10 minutes or so, the flow slowed to a trickle, and then stopped. Wilbur was quite the vision, with blood and dirt smeared across him. I was sitting there as contrite as I could be, feeling awful about ignoring him while hauling in my prize. That is, until Wilbur slapped me heartily on the back. He sat on the tailgate, beaming, then pointed at his swollen nose.

"Hey, I can breathe! I can't remember the last time I didn't feel stuffed up. You knocked it loose just great." He looked me up and down before commenting, "You'll do good here in Kanner Lake, Hank Detcher."

Wilbur and I have been friends ever since. This story just shows how this little quiet town takes in family. We take all kinds. It reminds me of one of my favorite verses, Psalm 68:6, "God sets the lonely in families."

God bless you all.

-- Pastor Hank

Angie's Reflections

2007-09-24T07:00:00.000-07:00

It's hard to believe over a year has slipped by since our lives were forever changed July 22, 2006. It is one of those dates that I'll always remember where I was and what I was doing when I heard the news. It's just as etched in my mind as other major events, such as the day that JFK was shot. My, how things have changed in Kanner Lake, and even my own life, this past year.

In July, the press was back re-capping the events of a year ago. We came out of church to news vans and reporters. It was really a mess. Most of us simply pushed past the mob and went home. Of course, Milt Waking came to town a month before and shot a story for one of those Sunday night news shows. Maybe you saw it. I didn't watch it. I've lived it and don't need any reminders. However, I'm sure Milt did a tasteful job. I did have him over to dinner again, along with the family, since he and Frank Jr. have maintained their friendship. Poor Leslie, she was out of town on vacation with her family and missed all the excitement. We had Milt sign a picture for her, but of course it didn't replace meeting him in person.

As to the past few months since I last posted, they've been quite busy. We've had more T's (tourists) than ever in town this summer and I think everyone has been impacted. I've been helping Dimples at her gym since it seems that even people on vacation work out. I can't say that I've regained my Goldie Hawn figure, but I'm in much better shape than I was last year at this time and feeling great.

As for David and me, we're enjoying our relationship and having a lot of fun.

Cosmo continues to be my faithful companion and friend, although I do get tired of cleaning up the mess. I love him, but I would never have chosen to have another dog. Bev is still convinced that she did the right thing, but trust me, never give a pet to an unsuspecting friend. Of course, she and her husband dote on Talkatoo. She has that silly bird quoting Shakespeare at times.

As for Frank Jr., I've sworn off trying to get him married. Of course he's helped the situation by finally courting a wonderful young woman from Coeur d'Alene. She has no problems with squirrels. I can't say any more...

And I'm going to be a grandma again! Melissa and Reggie are expecting a baby boy next month. That will make four children. I don't know how she does it sometimes with soccer, ballet, home-schooling, and working part time in their business. I'll be spending some serious time in Coeur d'Alene helping for the next couple of months.

My goodness, how time slips away. I've got to run and help Dimples at her gym. Just one more thing, I forget to tell you, I've finally started my children's book.

Catch you next time.

--Angie

Great News from S-Man

2007-09-14T07:00:00.000-07:00

Shnakvorum Rikoyoch (Greetings, Friends).

Big news on the agent front. Two weeks ago I got word from an agent that he's interested in representing me. Which is quite exciting! But there's a bit of a snag. He wants me to make some changes to Starfire first, and only after those are made will he make his final decision regarding the manuscript.

Many of the changes aren't anything big, some wording issues and such. But there are a few I'm not sure how I feel about.

The first isn't necessarily something I disagree with, but it does feel quite daunting to me. Character descriptions. The agent thinks I need to cut back on the specifics on many of the descriptions because they drag on too long. I can see his point, but part of me rebels against it. I mean after all I'm dealing with ten-plus characters and dozens of different Saurian species, all of which are drastically difference in size and appearance. I need to make sure the reader can see that. But at the same time I suppose that if I let the descriptions go on too long then the important parts get lost in the mix. So I need to find the right balance and flow. Hopefully I can do that to the agent's liking.

The issue I’m less accepting of is that the agent thinks I have too much of the Saurian language in the book, especially words without clearly stated definitions. Removing Saurian words is something that I think would greatly impair the feel of the book and the sense of seeing an alien culture in action. And I can't be stopping for every word to give a definition. Especially since I have a glossary included with the book. And how do you use an English word for something that is completely alien anyway?

But then this is a question of whether I’m willing to give some in order to be represented and hopefully published. So I suppose I will have to go back and look at exactly how I'm using some words and the frequency of usage and the contextual clues to definitions. I must admit I have found a few places where I think I've been able to be gentler on the uninformed reader, and hopefully that is mostly what the agent is looking for.

Thanks to all of you for your encouragement. I hope you all get the chance to read Starfire for yourselves one day.

--S-man

Wilbur and the Bear

2007-09-13T07:00:00.000-07:00

Hello, everybody, it'll been awhile. Wilbur Hucks here. Good thing Bailey finally got the blog fixed. We all thought we'd be lost forever in outer space. (Oh. Someone just told me it's "cyber-space." Whatever in the heck that is.)

Carla's typing this for me 'cause I can't type or spell a lick. If you want to know how old I am now, it's 78. Let's just get that out of the way, and don't say you weren't curious. Been married for as long as I remember and survived it. So far. Also survived a war and just last year, heart surgery. Got the scar to prove it--the surgery, I mean--and it's a mighty fine one. More on that another day.

Might as well say something right up front. As you know, Bailey's reason for starting this blog last year was to make visitors to Kanner Lake feel welcome. That's fine I guess, and a lot of you are good folks and have even stopped in to see us. But don't expect me to be all-out friendly to everybody. Figure you better know what you're stepping into if you're gonna drive all this way to see the town. For every saint like Bailey you've got one of me. Come if you like. Take us as we are. We were here first.

Bailey suggested I tell you about the goings-on hereabouts, like the hunting, fishing and hiking. As the best fly fisher in Idaho, I expect she's got the right man for the job. We got fish in Kanner Lake so big you can ride 'em like a horse. For hunters, we got elk, white-tail and mule deer thicker than fleas on a dog's back. We also got ducks, geese, wild turkeys, and bear.

Took me on a bear once. Bare-handed. Well, more like footed. But the foot wasn't bare.

Since we were youngsters, Wally Keller had been telling me he wanted to sneak up on a black bear and give him a boot in the pa-toot. Don't ask me where he got such a fool notion in his head. I told him from the start he was a downright idgit, but he kept on. Then he started calling me chicken 'cause I didn't want nothing to do with it.

Nobody calls me chicken. Even at the age of eight. I told Wally if he and I ever got the chance, I'd be the one to give it to the bear.

Fifty-some years went by. Wally and I grew up, went off to war and came back. (Thank the Lord.) Wally got married; I got married. We both had kids. Had us some good times with our families and some bad. In all the ruckus of life in general, we forgot about that childhood promise. Then one day when Wally and I were hiking, lo and behold out of the blue we came up on a big black bear napping in the sun with his head resting on his paws.

Wally pointed at the huge critter and then aimed his finger at me. I was about to shake my head no when Wally mouthed "You're chicken." Well, he's right about that. But then I got to thinking, doggone, we'd waited over half a lifetime for that moment, and could this war veteran just walk away? Right then and there my decision was made.

I snuck up on that bear so quiet it would have made Daniel Boone proud. Got my feet set for running, hands up and fingers spread for balance. Holding my breath. Up came one foot while I made good and sure I was stable on the other. Then I let my boot fly.

Tell you what. That bear let out a howl the likes you never heard and took off like he'd been shot out of a cannon. Likely didn't stop until he crossed the state line. Wally and I fell on the ground laughing until we near split our guts.

I came back from that hike with the proof I'm no chicken, though I suppose you could call me a durn fool. But I had me a good story to tell. Half the people don't believe it, even with Wally as my witness. Too bad, I tell the story anyway. Tell it to you in person, too, when you visit Kanner Lake.

So come on see us at Java Joint. Make Bailey happy. Just stay off the fourth stool at the counter. It's mine.

Summer's Gone

2007-09-12T07:00:00.000-07:00

My, I can't believe we're almost to mid-September already. We've had a beautiful summer in Kanner Lake. And still now the weather is terrific. Clear, sunny skies and temperature in the high 70's to low 80's. What a gorgeous time of year. Soon the fall chill will come, and with it, the turning of the leaves. Although our forests will stay green all year long, of course.

Let's face it, every season in Kanner Lake is lovely.

One of my frustrations this summer has been with this blog. Did you notice it got slower and slower to load? Because of that, I've been unable to post. We've been dealing with a tech person for help on this, and it's looking like the load is now faster. Let's hope so. This post is really a test. If it goes up, I'll be happy!

Almost a Year

2007-06-18T07:00:00.000-07:00

Hi, all, Bailey here. I was just looking at the calendar. Hard to believe that as of July 5, this blog will be a year old! My, where has the time gone?

A year ago I started this blog hoping to tell more people about Kanner Lake. I wanted to bring more tourists to town and more customers into my coffee shop, Java Joint. Who'd ever have guessed how things would change. A year later I have so much business, it'll be days before a new post is put up. All the Scenes and Beans bloggers are still around, but they seem to be busy doing this and that. Or maybe it's that all their best stories have been told. (Except for Wilbur. He's always got a story to tell. If he runs out of true ones, he'll make one up. :)

As you all know, it wasn't long after this blog began that tragedy struck our town. The date was July 22. Just when all the drama from that day was finally over (in February of this year), new tragedy struck in March. This town has come through a lot in the past year.

As a result, Kanner Lake is now known across the country, as I'd hoped--but for reasons I'd never dreamed of (and still wish hadn't happened.) With national media turned on our town twice, Kanner Lake is now on "on the map." This last year we have really seen a difference in the amount of tourists. Now that the weather's warm, they're really coming in droves. Java Joint is jumping all day! It's been so wonderful to see all of you readers who've come in. Most of all, people want to meet Wilbur and S-Man. Seems there are two photos our new visitors always want: (1) Me behind the counter, (2) Wilbur sitting on his stool, (3) S-Man at his computer. (Although now that book #1 has been sent off to agents, he's taking a break from writing.)

Something else has recently happened here. The controversy all last winter about the proposed hotel next to the city beach has now been settled. The hotel will be built. In fact, it's supposed to be done sometime next summer. Wow. Will Kanner Lake be different then!

As the summer progresses, I just may re-run some of the favorite stories from last year. In the meantime--keep coming to see us! We love to have you visit.

-- Bailey

Send Off

2007-05-30T07:00:00.000-07:00

Shnakvorum, rikoyoch! (Welcome, friends),

The day has come. Finally I'm ready to send my completed novel, Starfire, off to the agents I've targeted. Who would have thought there were agents out there in this day and age who still wanted you to correspond with them via snail mail? But there are, plus a few publishers I figured I'd try as well.

Most seem to only want a simple query letter, but a few asked for some chapters, one publisher even wanted the complete manuscript printed out and mailed to them! So just as soon as this post is finished I'll be headed to the post office to send them all off.

This whole process has been a very interesting learning process. I used to think that publishing a book was as simple as finishing it and just sending it off. But the more I looked into publishers and agents the more I discovered I had to come up with such vile things as synopses and queries (can you imagine stuffing all the nuances of a 100,000 word novel into a paragraph?)

Thank goodness for the Internet and various writing books to help with research on all that. Otherwise I'm not sure what I would have done. But I pushed on through and here's what I ended up with as far as a summary for Starfire:

Rathe of Yanguch has fought his entire life to rise out of his low hatch status. When he wins a spot in the Imperial Light Infantry, he hopes his days of struggle are behind him. But when he discovers an ancient artificial intelligence (A. I.) that imprints him as its protector, he finds himself at the center of a fierce struggle as opposing forces seek him out in hopes of turning the A. I. to their own ends. Ultimately, Rathe is faced with a terrible choice: Destroy the artificial intelligence and doom his Empire, or use it to activate the mysterious Starfire, and doom his world.

I'll be sure to keep everyone up to date with how my path to finding an agent goes.

-- S-man

Wilbur's Eight

2007-05-21T07:00:00.000-07:00

Howdy, Wilbur here. In the last post Bev wrote this crazy list of "eight random facts" about herself. I gotta say, that's the most boring list I ever read. I told her so, and naturally she got all huffy on me. Said I should write my own list rather than "impugn" hers. (I have no idea what the word means, much less how to spell it. Good thing Carla's typing this for me.)

So I'm answerin' Bev's boring list. Here's my eight:

1. I can count to ten in English. On a good day.

2. Who's Shakespeare?

3. Sure I been outside the U.S. Went to Korea. In the army, from 1951-1953. Let's just say I did a little more than sightsee.

4. Who in their right mind collects African violets? I don't collect nothin' other than good stories.

5. My middle name is nobody's business.

6. I don't believe for one second Bev killed a rattle snake--in her backyard or anywhere else. As for me, I lost count of the number of critters I bagged over the years.

7. No wonder Bev's elevator don't go all the way to the top. Anybody who's corrected over 75,000 essays oughtta be google-headed. Only thing I ever corrected is kids when they're not actin' right. Which is most of the time. Don't get me started on kids these days.

8. What in tarnation is lutefisk? For Christmas I got a new shotgun. And I aim to do a whole lot more with it than let it sit in my pantry.

There, Bev. Now stop yappin' at me.

-- Wilbur

Bev's Eight Random Facts

2007-05-14T06:00:00.000-07:00

Since the tagging comment was left on my post (what was that person thinking?), everyone at Java Joint insists I must go first. As if I want to play some silly electronic game of tag. But Angie, in typical fashion, won't let me be until I do. So here it goes:

The rules: 1. Player start with eight random facts/habits about themselves. 2. People who are tagged need to write their own blog about their eight things and post these rules. 3. At the end of your blog, you need to choose eight people to get tagged and list their names. 4. Don't forget to leave them a comment telling them they're tagged, and to read your blog.

And my eight random things:

1. I can count to ten in five languages, including Greek and Latin.

2. I've read every Shakespeare play at least three times.

3. My husband took us to Victoria, British Columbia, for our twenty-fifth wedding anniversary. That was the first and only time I've traveled outside the United States.

4. I collect African violets.

5. My middle name is Elin.

6. I once killed a rattle snake in my backyard, only to have my husband yell at me for not cutting off the head.

7. I've corrected over 75,000 essays.

8. A friend sent me some lutefisk for Christmas one year. It is still sitting in my pantry. If anyone wants it, they can have it. I'll deliver it myself, if I must.

There. I've done my eight things. Now it's somebody else's turn.

--Bev Trexel
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A T Comes to Visit

2007-05-07T07:00:00.000-07:00

Hello, Bailey here with you today. Last Saturday we had fun meeting one of our blog readers. I will call her T--the name we use around Java Joint for tourists.

T is from Mississippi, and her accent shows it. She's absolutely darling. She brought in her husband and two children for coffee drinks and pastries, and they ended up staying in the cafe for almost two hours, talking to the various people who post. T brought in a printout of posts--one from each blogger--and had as many signed by the author as possible.

T's two sons, 10 and 12, took to Jake and Wilbur like fleas on a hound dog. The kids sat on the two counter stools left after Jake and Wilbur took their usual places, and the two men regaled them with one tall tale after another. I had a hard time keeping a straight face with some of the stuff those guys were dishing out. They sure know how to take a real story and streeeetch it until its almost unrecognizable. The caught fish and hunted deer got bigger and bigger.

S-Man and T's husband talked science fiction. T's husband has read it all his life, and is very knowledgeable about writers and plots. I don't know who taught whom more. I know that the conversation was fascinating enough to cause S-Man to stop typing for almost an hour. Now that's something.

Bev and Angie were also there to sign posts for T, who asked them if they really argued as much as their posts implied. Bev looked as Angie and replied, "Argue with her, are you kidding? She’d never be able to keep up with me."

After T and her family left, they went across the street to Simple Pleasures to meet Paige and Sarah--and ended up buying gifts for their friends back home.

Summer in coming to Kanner Lake--the best season of all, and the time when we see the most tourists. We hope more of you can come visit!

The S-man Posteth

2007-05-01T07:00:00.000-07:00

Shnakvorum, rikoyoch. (Welcome, friends) I apologize for the long silence from me, but I've been buried up to my tail in editing Starfire to get it ready for submission to agents. I must admit I wasn't ready for just how much work there was to be done after writing Starfire. I really do feel like I've re-written almost the entire thing. It was a daunting task, and there were times where I wondered exactly what I had gotten myself into. But also it was an incredible experience for me to go back and read through this story that sprang out of my imagination. To re-live once more the journey of Rathe, Selae and Karey Or.

Some scenes were sparkling already, some were rubbish and needed to be trashed. I even found myself having to re-write significant portions to incorporate a new character that came about through the re-writing. But it also gave me a very touching funeral scene that I think showcases a bit of Saurian culture as a backdrop to what is going on inside of Rathe very poignantly.

In the end after this editing pass I believe in Starfire more than ever. It seems impossible to me that it won't get picked up by an agent and then a publisher.

Especially after the recent events, I feel like this is a chance to leave something lasting behind, something that will impact lives beyond the reach of my mortal coil. And what more could a man want?

-- S-man

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A Surprise Party--Part II

2007-04-26T07:00:00.000-07:00

Bev here again. As I was saying a few days ago, Kanner Lake threw a surprise birthday party at Java Joint for Angie. I left off my story with the presents. The best part.

It took several minutes to calm the ruckus down. Goodness, I honestly don't know how Bailey deals with it every day, running everything so smoothly, keeping everyone happy, and always holding onto that smile and sweet disposition of hers. And without her, I don't think we ever would have gotten to the presents.

But Bailey made calm out of chaos and expertly directed Ted, Pastor Hank, and a couple of the other men to the packages stored in the back, like she threw big parties every day. Meanwhile I settled Angie at the central table, David at her side, of course.

Angie couldn't understand why Bailey needed four men to help her get a bunch of cards. Cards! As if any one of us was so cheap. No, that would never do. Everyone had brought something.

So the packages kept coming and coming, and Angie's eyes got wider and wider. Then she started dithering as she twisted a paper napkin to shreds and babbled about how we shouldn't have or some such nonsense. As I said before, she would only turn seven--oops. There I go again.

Finally, David calmed Angie down (did I mention the man is a lifesaver?), and the opening commenced.

What a huge assortment of gifts! Yet every one was perfect for Angie while still reflecting the giver. A gift certificate for Java Joint coffee from Bailey. Sparkling earrings that Angie had admired at Simple Pleasures from Paige, with the matching necklace from Sarah. A free year's subscription to the Kanner Lake Times from Jared. A plaque from Ted with an inspirational quote about growing older and wiser written in that special language of his.

Next Wilbur supplied a huge box. I am told I turned rather pale at that, but what do you expect? I half-feared he'd given Angie a stuffed fish! Thankfully, it was only one large bouquet of silk flowers. Who would have ever thought it?

So on and on the presents came, Angie gushing the whole time. Or until she reached the last present--mine.

She picked up the long thin envelope and eyed it rather suspiciously. I can't imagine why. I've never done anything except what's best for her. Then she looked at me, one penciled eyebrow raised. "What are you up to now, Beverly Trexel?"

"Why do you think I'm up to anything?"

"I saw that post about your shopping trip. You said you got two of something. This envelope"--she waved it at me--"can't contain two of anything. So what else is there?"

"I promise you. There is nothing else."

She didn't believe me, I could tell, but she opened the envelope and pulled out two reservations for a dog-training school--during the same week.

Angie glared at me. "There's absolutely no way I'm taking on another dog!"

"Goodness me. I hope not."

"Then why two?"

I glanced at David. "Let's just say I thought Cosmos should meet any future roommates."

Perhaps for only the second time in her life, Angie didn't have anything to say.

Now that's what I call a successful surprise party.

-- Bev Trexel
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A Surprise Party--Part I

2007-04-23T07:00:00.000-07:00

Hello, everyone. Bev Trexel with you today. It has certainly been a trying few weeks. First the ruckus about building the hotel. Then those horrible murders here, and everyone looking over their shoulders. (See, Angie, I told you having a dog was a good idea.) Now the shooting at Virgina Tech, where one of my friends used to teach. After all that, who couldn't use some cheering up?

So Kanner Lake threw a surprise birthday party for Angie.

Barely. Wilbur tried to ruin the surprise by yapping that party or no party, the fourth stool was his. As if any of the regulars would even think about taking it. But Angie overheard the word party and everything would have been lost right then if David hadn't walked in--about the only subject that could distract Angie from thoughts of a party.

But somehow we made it, and Bailey rented Java Joint to us for a whole afternoon, no tourists. We decked up the place with balloons and streamers--even got a pink one tied into a bow around Wilber's stool--and everyone squeezed inside. All the regulars were there. Bailey and John. Jared. Ted Dawson in his corner with Leslie nearby ... hmm, I might have to look into that one. Carla. Pastor Hank and Janet. Wilbur on his stool with Jake right beside him. Sarah even closed up Simple Pleasures for a few hours so she and Paige could join us. And oh, yes, David. I delivered that invitation by hand myself.

Then I had the pleasure of half-dragging Angie from her home. She complained every step of the way, couldn't understand why I was so insistent that she had to join me for a cup of coffee. But when she walked in and everyone jumped up (well, everyone but Wilbur, him being so worried about that stool of his) and yelled "Surprise! Happy Birthday!" in two languages (thanks to Ted Dawson)--well, it was worth it.

We served up the world's best coffee and sandwiches, followed by chocolate cake and old-fashioned strawberry ice cream, just like my father used to churn when I was younger. For a long time I debated whether cake and ice cream were such a great idea with all of Angie's health fuss. But what is a birthday party without cake and ice cream? So I decided Angie would have to live with it; only once in a lifetime can you turn seven--oops. Angie would skewer me if I let that out to the whole world.

After that, sometime during the chaos, we decided that since all the bloggers were gathered in the same place at the same time for once, we would try to create a joint blog for Scenes and Beans, like our first day. But things got a bit, shall we say, out-of-control? So I think Bailey might have wisely locked it away someplace where it'll never be published. Unfortunately, I've heard rumors that Wilbur and Jake have started a petition for its publication. Don't be surprised if they try to get all of cyberspace clammoring for it.

Then Ted Dawson (S-Man) was persuaded to do his first public reading of the novel he's always working on. Outside those parts you can't understand, the writing wasn't bad. No Shakespeare or Hemingway, of course. But I highly doubt that was his intention anyway.

Unfortunately, Jake slapped his thigh and he said he could tell a story as good, promptly launching into his latest tale about his pup, Duke. Next, Wilbur decided he had to out-do him with one of his fish tales. That spurred Jake into one of his.

Thank goodness for David, or the party would have been a disaster for sure. But he stepped in and proposed a coffee toast for Angie. I always knew I liked him. Angie, on the other hand, turned bright red. She tried to tell me it was because Java Joint had become so warm, but although it was warm (what do you expect with all that hot air?), I knew better.

Finally we got to the presents--but that deserves a post all its own.

-- Bev Trexel
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