I do not know how cold a witch's [fill in the blank] is.

I don't want to turn this blog into a weather report, but the cold does tend to preoccupy my thoughts. It was -13F when I got up this morning, and it's now warmed up to -3F.

As the saying goes, it's colder than a witch's whatever outside, except that I don't know how cold that is, and I'm not really willing to do the research necessary to find out.

Yes, the play I'm currently directing (Bell, Book & Candle) is all about witches, but the cast is acting, and as far as I know have no actual association with any local covens. In fact, one Gaslight board member suggested (tongue-in-cheek, I think) that we might try to get in touch with some local Wiccans just to make sure we weren't offending them -- and if we were offending them, we might encourage them to picket as a way of getting some free publicity.

Anyway, as I have discussed in a previous post, I have no reason to think that witches' body parts are any different from other human beings', in which case we can say that any temperature below 98.6F is colder than a witch's tit. Or nose. Or finger.

What I Read This Week

I did another manuscript cleanup this week, and continued to do a lot of rereading (which will go on for another week). But I did finish one very entertaining book:

Charlaine Harris, DEAD UNTIL DARK. I don't know why I hadn't read these books before, but my friend Matt and I had a "True Blood" mini-marathon when I was in New York last month, and it sent me back to the books. Sookie Stackhouse is a cocktail waitress with the power to read people's thoughts -- so when she meets Bill, part of the attraction is that she can't read his. The fact that he's a vampire makes things a little complicated, especially when someone in the small town of Bon Temps, LA starts killing off women who consort with vampires.