These peaches were not slimy

For some reason my cousin and I used to say "slimy peaches" instead of "cheese" when taking pictures. I wonder how we came up with that. I don't think I've ever referred to peaches as being slimy. Last night's certainly weren't. It was one of those perfect writer dinner parties. I made the famous mango salmon and Mattie made an amazing salad with toasted walnuts and mandarin oranges and for dessert, we had broiled white peaches with a blackberry port sauce--a joint collaboration. The theme for the night was fruit, our version of Iron Chef. Mattie spilled the beans...we were going to have Reb and Chris guess. And of course the great poetry gossip, which will remain on the hush hush. But here are somethings to wet your whistles (depending on your whistle, take your pick...1. Reb brought me some fabulous French panties from her recent trip (KR, eat your heart out--no you won't find pictures of these) 2. looks like the reading series that Reb and I are co-curating is going to be a go at the Rouge. Spoke to the boss and she's on board and speaking of readings, 3. scored an invite (perhaps from my role as Dead Roses at the Lucipo reading about a month ago) to read at Red Emmas in Baltimore the first Saturday in November.

Today I spent the day working on my own writing (hence the absence from the blog) and took one of those sweet afternoon naps.