Also, why do I have seven different versions of “The Boys are Back in Town” on my hard drive? Was Thin Lizzy’s not enough?

I’m getting ready to drive over to Quail Ridge Books and drop off some copies of Ellen C. Bush’s Licorice. You can get a copy over there, or you can always order one online. The book may need a second printing. That would be a blessing.

Julia, feeling sufficiently chided for not being feminine enough, sat for hours with her legs crossed, hoping the feeling would soon become familiar, hoping her legs could hold the pose as habit. She had practiced so hard at being Italian that it hadn’t occurred to her that she would ever need to practice at being anything else, as if learning to live in a new country had been all the masquerade and subterfuge a girl would ever need to master. Soon she imagined that she was a still life, being painted, no longer girl but fruit or vase. There was no pressure in being a fruit or a vase. They had only to be fluent in one thing. Their legs never ached.