Have any of you received your invitation to Chelsea’s wedding? Ours must still be in the mail.
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This just in! I don’t know which tickles me more … that this psychic has been “communicating, for many moons now, with the late King of Pop” … or that the local blat considered it to be headline news.

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In Montana, my favorite billboard advertised an Italian restaurant named Spaghetti Western. And my favorite town name was Pray. What a story must be behind a name like that, right? A woman crying for mercy who simply couldn’t walk in high button boots any further west? An innocent man about to be hanged from the only tree for miles around? No. Turns out there was a guy whose last name was Pray. Sometimes, the truth can really ruin a good story.
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One of my books has a character who is raising Paso Fino horses. I wanted to do more than internet research and actually go touch a few noses. The owner of Dancing Horses ranch gave my friend Lee and me a wonderful chance to ask all the questions we had. The horses are an American treasure, from the same Conquistador stock that eventually led to the mustang as well. Appropriate that this handsome lad is named Tesoro.

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My weekend will be spent avoiding the traffic for the Sequim Lavendar Festival. How about yours?