Sadie Jay

I hate the time change. (And that's all I'm going to say about that!) I hadn't noticed until yesterday that my forsythia is blooming. A sure sign that spring is nearly here! Snipping again from When Silverfish Dance , we get a further glimpse at Barry and Morgan's first meeting:  Bracing his arm on the table, Morgan's unasked-for visitor rested his chin on his closed fist and looked up through heavily mascaraed lashes, fluttering them a few times before asking, “So, what is your type?” Tilting his body to look around the table at the piece of fluff sitting across from him, Morgan appraised him from his bare feet to hair-sprayed ‘do before answering. “More meat, less makeup, for starters. So, Twiggy, how old are you, anyway? 17?” Hopping up, the young man stretched his arms up in an elegant ballerina pose, neck stretched gracefully with his nose pointed towards the ceiling. “I can be 17 if that’s your thing. Or 27, if that’s more your style.” Lower

So much to do, and so little time to do it! But I think that's all of us, isn't it? My list never seems to get any shorter. And I'm not the most organized, which doesn't help! (A bit out of nowhere, I know, but that's where my mind is this morning!) Our little miss, Silver, likes to wrap up in the curtain and watch everyone. She's gotten quite good at twisting herself in there! This week's snippet continues from the opening page of When Silverfish Dance , a story about two strangers in 1973 who meet by chance and then their lives become intertwined:    Slipping the offending boots off, the kid rubbed the arch of his foot and moaned loudly with pleasure. Morgan tried to not watch, but the silver dress hitched up enough to highlight sinewy thighs encased in the dark hose and he wondered, for only a moment, if the guy shaved his legs or was naturally hairless. “Quit looking at my legs and buy me a drink. Please.” The kid flashed a wide, toothy smile, amusement