This is why I don't believe in ghosts. Otherwise they'd be on news shows.
If I went to the Folk School every two months I'd be in top shape. I walk everywhere, but I don't mind because the view's nice and I'm going somewhere fun with good people. Plus when I navigate through the 60 yards of lighted trail to the meeting hall I feel like I've conquered a wild, untamed forest.
Aimee's taking a jewelry class from a retired man-hating nun. Power tools, no safety lecture, old ladies using bandsaws and jigsaws with no experience. It's the Thunderdome of folk art. Two crafters enter, one crafter leaves. Aimee's the only one who brought eye protection. Darwin's little helper.
I'm the only guy in cooking class. Learning how to make fried pies. More later.