Each time it comes, I run, filled with curiosity and glee, pick up the strangely light box; hopes not quite shattered. It is a box.
Like a rush of wind she strokes the keys, pluck, kluck, klunk Urgently racing the clock
Color My Palate. On the Road. Last weekend, my dear writing pal Karen (http://www.splatospheric.com/)asked me if I would participate in a blog tour about “My