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O you gypsy wonder! Such a marvelous tale. And maybe better that I never met your mother since I myself am rather fond of rodents (except the Squirrel(s) at my birdfeeders). Whirl away, m'dear!


Danger Girl is really a Gypsy Princess. Of course! It makes sense to me. When do you get to bring music and dancing back though?

And how did your father claimto know the story? He was sent by the Gypsies to keep an eye on things? :-)


I am speechless. What a legacy, what lore belongs right in your very own blood. No wonder you are who you are. Write on, darling. Use your recuperation time to type without looking and knit without counting stitches. What richness of passion and talent you possess! Thank you.


Your father gave you a great many gifts, dear Greta. All hail the wild Gypsy Princess.



I realized when I got to the end of your story that I had been holding my breath. You have clearly inherited your father's storytelling gift (to the point where I was able to hear different voices for each person...and NO, I do not hear voices in my head all the time), and as for picking up any instrument...throw caution to the wind.

Now, Danger Girl: please take care of Greta and yourself while you both recuperate from surgery. We all want you at undiluted full strength.

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