Brandon. And stuff.

The town of Brooklin, population 900, turned out in droves Saturday for a public supper to benefit Brandon Higgins, a teenager with an inoperable brain tumor. (That's him at right, working in the Brooklin Youth Garden last summer.) At roughly $10 admission, the supper made around $6,000, or so they announced as things were winding down. I'm not saying all the 600 were from Brooklin, but still...pretty impressive. (A yard sale and auction swelled the proceeds to around $8,000, last I heard.)

I love my little town. Even when it's covered with slush, as it will be a few weeks from now.

Brandon, by the way, just got back from California , having spent a long weekend out there with his family attending the NBA All Star game and attendant festivities. Yay, Make A Wish Foundation.

For more info, here's a story about him in The Ellsworth American.

That's how it goes sometimes: It never fails--just when you're writing with hands tied behind your back and a mouthful of dental appliances, A Fuse #8 Production goes and devotes a whole post to your measley little book. Did me the world of good. Betsy Bird is a goddess--or a librarian, which is essentially the same thing.

On the other hand, today I wrote a scene involving a large bowl of poisonous spiders. Could have used a dental appliance or two for that one. Euugh.

In other business: The Bangor Daily News reviewed SMALL PERSONS! Right here. And The Ellsworth American, on top of all its other lovely coverage, also posted a lovely review on its web site. I do love newspapers.

The knitting report: Mid-foot, nearing the toe. I have yarn for a pair of cotton socks, but I'm feeling slightly tempted by a cotton sweater. God help me. Rob, however, has grown deaf to swearing and has stopped asking, "What? What? What's wrong?" when I get wound up. So he'll probably survive a sweater nicely.

Don't forget there's a contest on. I didn't set a deadline, did I? Let's call it a week.