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    <title>Mind, Body, Spirit</title>
    <image>
      <url>http://asset3.pnn.com/graphics/show_square/44993/40/image.jpg</url>
      <title>A PNN Broadcast by: laurieboris</title>
      <link>http://laurieboris.pnn.com/9072-november-novel</link>
    </image>
    <link>http://laurieboris.pnn.com/9072-november-novel</link>
    <pubDate>Wed, 05 Nov 2008 01:46:53 GMT</pubDate>
    <description>A PNN Broadcast by: laurieboris</description>
    <item>
      <title>NaNoWriMo Excerpt 4</title>
      <link>http://laurieboris.pnn.com/articles/show/29945-nanowrimo-excerpt-4</link>
      <description>&lt;p&gt;Finally, my sister arrived, not a wrinkle in her lovely suit or in her lovely coif, but a little out of breath, I&#8217;m sure for effect. The waiter pulled out her chair and she sat down prettily, with a smile. &#8220;Have you been waiting long?&#8221; she said as she picked up the menu.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&#8220;No, not at all,&#8221; my mother said breezily, but flashed a look in my direction that warned me to hold my tongue.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once she was settled in with her glass of wine, my sister began explaining why she had called this meeting. &#8220;I&#8217;ve been doing a bit of investigating with Roger&#8217;s lawyer,&#8221; she said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Somehow hearing the word &#8220;lawyer&#8221; caused part of my brain to tune out. I had dated a lawyer once. It did not end well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&#8220;I asked him what happens when someone dies intestate.&#8221;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mother&#8217;s mouth tightened. &#8220;Really, Allison. Is this proper lunch conversation?&#8221;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My prim and proper sister rolled her eyes. I don&#8217;t think I&#8217;d ever seen her do that. I didn&#8217;t think she was capable. Maybe I had misjudged her. &#8220;Mother,&#8221; she said. &#8220;There are certain practicalities that we, as his surviving family, need to address.&#8221;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mother closed her menu and folded both beautifully pampered hands atop it. &#8220;I don&#8217;t want one red cent from that man. I know how he&#8230; passed&#8230; was a horrible tragedy. But I made my peace with him years ago. I didn&#8217;t want anything from him then, and I want nothing from him now.&#8221;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My sister turned her gaze at me, but still addressed my mother. &#8220;Well, that means, according to the state law, that since he had no other family or dependents, that everything in his estate is to be split between me and Penny. Or, Penny and I, rather.&#8221;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My stomach tightened. He was even trying to buy my love from the grave. Or, not really trying. It was the state&#8217;s fault this time. Shoving it at me, what I didn&#8217;t want from him when he was alive. And I felt my throat start to close up. My father was dead.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&#8220;I know it&#8217;s very difficult to talk about things like this right now. But the police are useless, and we have to be practical and do something about his estate. God forbid any of his other &#8211;&#8220; I was sure she was about to say something to the effect of the women that had drifted in and out of his life, but she stopped yourself, out of deference to my mother. Her face went prim again. &#8220;I mean, it&#8217;s only practical, and then we can close the book on the whole thing.&#8221;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Forget that previous nice thought I&#8217;d been having about my sister. Now she was really starting to piss me off. &#8220;Close the book? On our own father?&#8221;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&#8220;Well,&#8221; my sister said. &#8220;It wasn&#8217;t like there was any love lost between the two of you.&#8221;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The bitch. But, I couldn&#8217;t think of anything to say. She was right. &#8220;I don&#8217;t want any of it. You and Roger can keep it. Start a foundation or something.&#8221;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&#8220;There&#8217;s no need to be sarcastic.&#8221; My mother said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&#8220;I knew there would be no dealing with you,&#8221; my sister said. &#8220;And I know you. Eventually, you&#8217;ll change her mind. You&#8217;ll feel bad, and you&#8217;ll wish you had accepted. Besides,&#8221; she said with a little sneer, &#8220;Roger and I are fine. We&#8217;ll take our share and put it away for our children&#8217;s college fund. And you&#8217;ll get what&#8217;s legally entitled to you. And you can do with it what you damn well please.&#8221;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&#8220;Allison, really,&#8221; my mother said. &#8220;Such talk, is it really necessary?&#8221;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This was new, my mother sticking up for me. But then, we had something in common. We had both told him to shove off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&#8220;At least take a while to think about it. Consider your financial position. You don&#8217;t know how long you&#8217;ll be going from one temp job to another. And what could he likely be making, teaching elementary school in his district? What, 20 or 30 grand at the most? Talk to Eli about it.&#8221;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That did it. &#8220;You think I&#8217;m just some brainless Stepford wife who needs her husband to make all her decisions for her? Just because you do doesn&#8217;t mean that other women aren&#8217;t capable of using their own brains &#8211;&#8220;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mother clamped her hand over mine. &#8220;Girls. Girls, stop this right now. This is getting us nowhere. What ever your&#8230; feelings&#8230;about your father, you are the only two legal heirs. Now, let&#8217;s settle this like adults. You&#8217;ll split it down the middle, and then, if you so please, you can throw it off the bridge. But I will not let this damage my family.&#8221;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I let out my breath. &#8220;Whatever,&#8221; I sighed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&#8220;Just think about it,&#8221; Allison said. She actually looked hurt. Then, in a masterful move, her face morphed into a professional mask. She pulled a manila folder from her briefcase. &#8220;Now. Let&#8217;s talk about the details. First, there&#8217;s his investments, his pension from the University, his liquid assets, and of course, the two properties&#8230;&#8221;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As she talked and talked and talked, she began to sound more like the teacher from the Charlie Brown cartoons. Just that trombone drone. I looked out the window at the busy North End lunch crowd. And all I wanted to do was leave.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I had a thought. &#8220;What about the car?&#8221; I asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alison waved a hand. &#8220;It&#8217;s all yours. We&#8217;ve already got three.&#8221;&lt;/p&gt;</description>
      <pubDate>Wed, 05 Nov 2008 01:46:53 GMT</pubDate>
      <guid>Wed, 05 Nov 2008 01:46:53 GMT</guid>
      <author>Laurieboris</author>
    </item>
    <item>
      <title>A Disclaimer</title>
      <link>http://laurieboris.pnn.com/articles/show/27594-a-disclaimer</link>
      <description>&lt;p&gt;This novel in progress is just that -- a novel in progress. Which means, it is a beautiful mess of a first draft, and I post for you, warts and all. Although it is a frog now, hopefully when the editing process begins (after November is over) it will become a handsome prince. Or, at least something that won't hurt your eyes to look at.&lt;/p&gt;</description>
      <pubDate>Mon, 13 Oct 2008 00:13:36 GMT</pubDate>
      <guid>Mon, 13 Oct 2008 00:13:36 GMT</guid>
      <author>Laurieboris</author>
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    <item>
      <title>NaNoWriMo Excerpt 3</title>
      <link>http://laurieboris.pnn.com/articles/show/27527-nanowrimo-excerpt-3</link>
      <description>&lt;p&gt;When I woke up the next morning, I was alone. I didn&#8217;t know how long I&#8217;d slept until I saw the fuzzy red diodes of Eli&#8217;s bedside clock. I couldn&#8217;t believe it was almost noon. As I was blinking my blurry self awake, the front door opened and I heard a familiar scrabbling of claws. Almost as if he could sense my presence, Chipper bolted through the apartment,&amp;nbsp; barking in strangled whines, until he found me in the bedroom, jumped on the bed and cuddled into my arms, whimpering. I held him, feeling his warm, quivering furry body and his heartbeat like a drum. &#8220;You poor, poor, boy,&#8221; I whispered into his velvet ear. &#8220;It&#8217;s okay. It&#8217;s okay now. Mommy&#8217;s got you now. And I&#8217;m not going to let anything happen to you.&#8221; This didn&#8217;t seem to calm him any, but it made me feel better. I looked up and saw the length of Eli, smiling gently down at me. He sat down on the edge of the bed and put his hand on my hip.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&#8220;You found him,&#8221; I said, then realized how idiotic a sentence that was. Of course Eli had found them. Otherwise, why would he be here?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&#8220;I woke up really early and couldn&#8217;t get back to sleep, so I made a few calls. One of the detectives had taken a shine to him, and had taken him home. He wasn&#8217;t too disappointed to let go of him, especially after he chewed up one of the detective&#8217;s shoes.&#8221;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&#8220;Thank you,&#8221; I said, half my face buried in Chippers soft fur.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He gave my hip a pat. &#8220;I&#8217;ll put on some coffee,&#8221; he said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;---&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With each sip (Eli liked his coffee strong. One of the things, among many, that we had in common.) I felt my memory returning. Some of the memories were disturbing. Others, merely embarrassing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&#8220;Did I really tell one of the detectives to piss off?&#8221;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Smiling, Eli sat down across the kitchen table from me, and set down his mug. I watched the oily film on top swirl around in his mug. Also, like me, he took his coffee black. &#8220;Yeah, you did.&#8221;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I muttered a couple of obscenities under my breath. &#8220;I must&#8217;ve been out of my tree.&#8221;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&#8220;Well, I&#8217;d expect someone who found their father&#8217;s body might be a little bit upset, especially when the police started to interrogate them.&#8221;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&#8220;It was like they thought that I was a suspect. How could I possibly have killed my own father?&#8221;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eli gently tipped his head to one side. &#8220;People have done worse.&#8221;&lt;/p&gt;</description>
      <pubDate>Sat, 11 Oct 2008 19:40:56 GMT</pubDate>
      <guid>Sat, 11 Oct 2008 19:40:56 GMT</guid>
      <author>Laurieboris</author>
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