Stella here.
Cold's all gone. An' good riddance, I say.
Harvey's about over it, too.
Molly's been runnin' back an' forth 'tween her house an' Webb's. He's only had it mild... but she's been carryin' on like he had th' plague 'r somethin'! I hope she's gonna settle down some once they're married. I can't remember her bein' like that with Frank... but then he jest keeled over one day with no warnin' s' mebbe she's worried it'll happen again.
Still an' all, I bet ol' Webb's soakin' up all th' attention, him havin' been a bachelor f'r so long. An' since there ain't been no snow worth mentionin' f'r some time, he c'n just hole up an' let her bring him soup 20 times a day - there bein' no call f'r snowplowin' at th' moment.
If y're gonna be lookin' f'r somethin' t' do t'morra night, Pat G's gonna be tellin' one o' those stories she's got about me an' Harvey over t' th' Side Door Coffee House there in Brunswick.
An' on Sat'day she's gonna be tellin' one o' Ruth Moore's poems at someplace called the Theater Project, also in Brunswick. Said she might even slip in a story 'bout Harvey an' me if there's time.
Well, that's all f'r now.
Love,
Stella
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Sahry that I prob'ly won't be comin' t' the side doah to heah Pat's stoahries about you. But, 't's a great place, and the rest of the folks readin' this blog should go. My friends and I may be comin' to heah her Sat'day, an' I'm real 'cited, since 't's environmental songs an' stoahries. Hope also to heah about y', if theah's time, as Pat says.
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