…of classes today is solemnly being covered up, mounded into a huge hill of snow, and snow, and more snow. The sky is building a quinzee of the earth. I must run out and stake an opening, mark the spot where I’ll sit with a few other writers (at least those that know how to dig in and dig out) and talk about the whether of writing, the cold reality of it, all the while warming the core of our crusted conversations with the sound of it.
manageable imaginations
something more or less
manageable imaginations 
Nice! I’m in.
Ah B–I thought you would seeing as I literally stole the idea from you, although I didn’t link you. You were my inspiration for the quinzee aspect to the post, as you’d previously written about such an aspect.
I was trying to bounce off of that post.
Cool!
Are there martini’s in the quinzee? If so, I’m in (even though I don’t drink spirits).
Hey Anita, it is cool.
Rhett, there will be martinis. Dry martinis, stirred not shaken.