Hither & Yon

The lovely Robin and I worshiped this morning at The Salvation Army's Cincinnati Citadel Corps, the church in which I grew up (a process that continues to this day).

We enjoyed the ministry of Lt. Felix Padilla, the absorbing worship, and the warm fellowship.

I got to hear the very piano that my mother played, many years ago, being sensitively played.

And after the service, the corps officer gave us a short tour. Above is the gym where I broke my nose. It was really my friend Bob Bender's fault; he devised the "sliding headfirst like Pete Rose into home on gym mats" that, well, I overshot and my nose paid the price.

The Salvation Army Cincinnati Citadel Corps is located at 114 E. Central Parkway on the edge of Over-the-Rhine in Cincinnati.

This week (Sunday-Thursday) I had the joy of attending, presenting, renewing friendships, making new friends, and meeting with writers at the annual Blue Ridge Mountains Christian Writers Conference (#BRMCWC) at Ridgecrest Conference Center near Asheville, North Carolina.

There's too much to say about a wonderful week, so I'll let the photos do most of the talking (photo above by Marcie Warner Bridges, used with permission).

Monday morning at breakfast I was joined by ten of the fourteen clients of mine who were at the conference. Some I met for the first time, face-to-face.

On Genre Night (Tuesday, I think. Hard to remember. My brain is fried), many of us dressed in costumes related to our genre. Or not. After the general session those with books in the conference bookstore joined for a book signing. That's my dear friend Cindy Sproles (or, as she calls herself, "C&D") sitting and signing next to me. (photo above by Marcie Warner Bridges, used with permission).

Lighthouse of the Carolinas publisher and editor Eddie Jones regaled me with a wildly inappropriate story. That's usually my shtick. But okay (photos above by Marcie Warner Bridges, used with permission).

And what fun I had tossing (and occasionally catching) with my dear friend, Scott McCausey. Man, you shoulda heard those gloves (and my joints) popping!