Under a hermit’s shell are many things.
Peek under mine and you will find the ever-growing scribblings of a Cozy Mystery, an anxiety-scarred spine, a startling dose of Prozac-ian meds and… wings.
Big, fat, feathery wings in need of the sky.
So, this monkish creature is climbing on a plane and flying solo to DC for 4 days.
I leave Thursday.
Things are about to get ugly under this hermit’s shell.