Kicking Off 2016: Strange Things Brewing at Coffee and Critique

 

Nick's last visit to C&C

The new year kicked off on a strange note yesterday at Coffee and Critique. As those present took turns going around the table at the beginning of our first session for 2016 --during which we shared our writing, publishing and other news--first up was Pat, who showed us a photo of her new puppy and mentioned she got an e-mail informing her she made it through the first hurdle for Chicken Soup for the Soul: The Joy of Less.

That prompted a comment from Jack, who was sitting at the far other end of the table, to say, "Did you say 'the joy of lust?'"

After we all stopped laughing out loud, we discussed how CS wouldn't publish an anthology focused on the joy of lust, although it would be an interesting read. Jack's comment was one for the books!


The readings by Doyle and Jack, "the boys," went well, as did critiques from the rest of us. With only six writers present, we wrapped up our critiques and discussions early and three of "the girls" stayed for lunch.



Bea in one of her many chapeaus

While Marcia, Jane, and I were eating, I began to discuss how much I missed Bea Siros and Nick Nixon, two of our members who had passed away a few years ago within one year (almost to the day) of each other.


Just then about a dozen glasses and cups fell off the drink counter near the cash register. No one was anywhere near the counter. One server was waiting on a table on the other side of the restaurant, and the other server was in the kitchen. The closest customer was at a table over six feet away.



Bea at her birthday party

Our awesome servers, Chrissie and Kim, quickly swept up the shattered glass, and the owners came in from their office to make sure everyone was okay.  C&K explained they didn't know how the glasses fell because no one was anywhere near the counter at the time. It was indeed a strange happening.

When Chrissie stopped by our table to top off our drinks, she said. "I swear there's a ghost in here."
Her comment gave me chills because right before the glasses shattered, we were talking about the deceased members of our group. Could their spirits be lingering at the restaurant?

It could've been a coincidence, but if you ask my opinion, it looks like our critique group will be in for a strange and an interesting year.