Author: Eric Margerum

Margerumalia – Kittens!

Eric Margerum

Newsletter – June 19, 2026

About two months ago I promised pictures of kittens in two months. The little darlings arrived on schedule!

I was sitting on the welcome mat at the front door like I do every morning, petting Rocket while she eats, when a cute little face peered out at me from the plants.

“Debbie,” I hissed in a stage whisper, “Kittens!” She heard me from the kitchen window and checked the opposite end of the house to see more.

I went inside to get a bowl of kitten food and we waited by the windows to take photos and videos of their antics. My favorite was when the little imps jumped up onto the window well covers I had installed last month, using them like slides in a playground.

We eventually counted six of them, five tabbies—like their mother—and one black kitten. One of the tabbies has white ears and white fur between the black stripes. The other four are indistinguishable from one another.

You can just barely see the difference in the photo below. The dim light under the bushes makes it difficult to see.

Look at that cute furry face! Can you resist the impulse to touch those soft paws? Shall we reserve one for you?

Last year we sent five kittens to the Humane Society. We were glad to learn that they were all adopted.

My story does take a turn, though. The kittens showed up on a Thursday morning and we spent two days replenishing their food bowls, giving them fresh water, and taking more pictures.

On Friday night at ten o’clock there was a terrible cat howl from the front steps and I raced to the door, flicked on the lights, and stepped onto the porch. All was quiet but I could barely see an animal circling the bushes in front of the house.

Was it Rocket? A predator? Maybe a pesky raccoon looking for a bite of cat food? We’ll never know. 

The next morning I petted Rocket on the welcome mat but didn’t see any kittens. I asked her about what had happened but she didn’t have an answer.

Then from the shadows of the bushes I spied the little black kitten who had a few things to say. His mother replied and I moved the bowl of kitten food toward the edge of the deck. The little fellah decided to brave my presence, having seen me pet his mother, and jumped up to eat. After a few seconds I moved my petting hand over to the kitten and petted him for about a minute solid.

I can’t tell you how amazing that was. Kittens born in the wild are not inclined to trust people but he saw the lay of the land and figured if it was good enough for Mama it was good enough for him. 

Since he was watching from the shadows, I decided his name was Shadow.

Since that morning, only Rocket has arrived at our front step to enjoy a bowl of food, fresh water, and a good dose of affection. We figured that she led the litter back into the ravine where they were born. Hopefully their need to eat more kitten food will bring them back soon.

Stay tuned!

TTFN

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If you were wondering why the June 12th Margerumalia didn’t appear in your INBOX until later in the day, there were two reasons. 

First, I accidentally set the delivery for PM instead of AM.

Second, I couldn’t fix the problem because a storm took out the internet service for a large part of the county. Metronet got it up and running early in the afternoon and I sent it out then.

Apologies for my role in the delay.

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My middle grade novel, The Most Amazing Museum of Los Angeles is available through The BookBaby Bookshop at https://store.bookbaby.com/book/the-most-amazing-museum-of-los-angeles

Margerumalia – Deirdre’s Dreadful Day

Eric Margerum

Newsletter – June 12, 2026

A mother deer and her fawn—who I’m calling Deirdre—paid a visit to our neighbor’s backyard on Saturday, unaware of what the day had in store for them.

Deirdre was probably a newborn, one day old at most. She walked with a knock-kneed wobbly gait like the endearing animation of Bambi that Disney artists created for the 1942 movie.

Her mother relaxed in the shade, laying down in the cool grasses while her daughter explored the yard. Deirdre found many interesting scents and tasted a variety of plants with a nibble here and a nibble there.

The mother kept an eye on Deirdre as she trotted playfully between the houses and played in the border garden alongside the screened-in porch.

That was when the neighbors across the street pulled into their driveway and a big black dog jumped out of their SUV. Deirdre’s mother high-tailed it out of there, running in the opposite direction and down into the ravine.

The dog ran playfully around the yard across the street and had no idea there were any deer nearby. The neighbors called to their dog and the family went inside together.

Deirdre had no idea of what had just happened and continued to explore the long grasses alongside the porch. When she realized that her mother was no longer nearby she settled down to wait for her return.

Several hours passed and dark clouds approached from the horizon. The thunder rumbled in long deep drumrolls before the downpour began.

Poor Deirdre had never seen or heard this kind of weather and she dashed into our front yard, running chaotically around the trees, bucking like a bronco and braying with fear. She was scared out of her wits. 

The rain fell heavily and Deirdre eventually took shelter by the side of the porch next door where the eaves and long grasses afforded her some semblance of safety.

She slept and waited for her mother’s return.

Six hours. Eight hours. Ten hours, and no sign of Mama.

Deirdre stood up occasionally and stretched but never left her little nest. That was a good thing, too, because another thunderstorm passed through later in the day sending down pebble-sized hailstones. The two houses protected her from getting pelted.

As we checked on Deirdre through the bedroom windows, I couldn’t help but think of guardian angels watching over us as we endure the hardships of life. If only she knew we were there and keeping an eye on her, maybe she would find some comfort in that.

We were aware that stepping outside might send Deirdre running from the very spot where her mother could find her, but what if the mother was injured and couldn’t get back? Heavy rains have sent stormwater rushing dangerously through the ravine and have even brought a tree crashing down the hillside.

We continued our vigil.

Dusk fell and the mother did not return. At ten o’clock I held a flashlight to the window and could just make out Deirdre’s body in the darkness.

I wished her well and went to sleep.

At dawn I raised the blind and saw the empty spot where Deirdre had been sleeping. I had mixed feelings because I wasn’t sure if she had just bolted or if her mother had returned.

I glanced at the neighbor’s back yard and in the pale morning light I had my answer.

The graininess of the photo is due to the lack of light, but it shows Deirdre nursing. Finally, her well-earned meal. Her mother is looking in the direction of the house across the street, keeping a lookout for the big black dog.

All is safe now. All is well.

TTFN

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If you received this email because it was forwarded to you by a subscriber, welcome. You can subscribe as well by following the link on my website: ericmargerum.com. A free story awaits you there.

Margerumalia – All I’m Asking For…

Eric Margerum

Newsletter – June 5, 2026

Photo: Yahoo! Entertainment

RESPECT. 

Aretha Franklin sang about it in 1967. “All I’m asking is for a little respect.”

It still holds the title as Rolling Stone’s Greatest Song of All Time.

Country singer Morgan Wallen recently demonstrated his frustration over a piano malfunction by flipping it over on stage. It broke. Now no one can use it. What a waste.

It was a wooden upright piano like you might have in your living room. I know I did.

Watching that video, all I could think of was the many professional musicians who so treasured their instruments that they set up charities to give young people the opportunity to have even a fraction of the joy and creativity that they enjoyed. Music is a gift. Having the resources to buy a piano, a drum set, a trombone, or a violin, is precious.

Someone who doesn’t appreciate that doesn’t deserve to be appreciated.

In my opinion.

Imagine a sous chef destroying his expensive knife collection because one of them slipped and made a faulty cut. Imagine a famous writer throwing down her typewriter because one key got stuck. Imagine a soldier bashing their weapon against a tank because it misfired.

Later, someone posted a video of Taylor Swift who also sat at a malfunctioning upright piano. What did she do?

She opened the lid and fixed the problem. Then she continued with her concert. 

RESPECT.

I can respect that kind of musician. I could even have respected Wallen’s choice to sing the rest of the song a cappella, which he did. I think that was a classy move. But then he ruined it by going back and destroying an expensive instrument, flipping it over so no one could ever use it.

“Hurry up and break things” is NOT an admirable path to success. It’s just an irresponsible approach to life. It’s childish. I cannot respect that.

Take a look around the room where you’re reading this…or the coffee shop, or the studio, or the reading nook…and appreciate what you have in your life. Now think of the people you appreciate in your life. That carries all the hallmarks of R.E.S.P.E.C.T.

TTFN

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My middle grade novel, The Most Amazing Museum of Los Angeles is available through The BookBaby Bookshop at https://store.bookbaby.com/book/the-most-amazing-museum-of-los-angeles

Margerumalia – The First Rehearsal

Eric Margerum

Newsletter – May 29, 2026

The first rehearsal usually begins with a “table read.” That’s exactly what it sounds like, the actors and director all sit around a table and read the script out loud for the first time. 

In a full length production, the table read might also include an assistant director, the stage manager, and possibly a dramaturg, costume designer, or choreographer among others. But “Out of the Abyss” is a short play in a festival of short plays so it was just the three of us. 

We also have limited access to rehearsal space so, for now, I’m making use of my membership in a co-working space where I can reserve meeting rooms to rehearse in. The meeting rooms all have one glass wall, but experienced actors are used to both accepting and ignoring distractions.

I gave some background to the inspiration of the play, which was Ray Bradbury’s “To the Chicago Abyss,” and the tone I was trying to achieve. They already intuited that tone and by the end of the read-through we were all in tears.

Keep in mind that the actors had never even met, but their instincts were spot on and they were entirely enrapt in the story. I told them as much while I tried to swallow back my emotions and I knew we were off to an exceptional start.

We moved the tables out of the way and began blocking the play. What side would Libby enter from? Did Sam absolutely have to sit on the floor? When she strikes him, how should that be staged?

Through discussion and following actor impulses we answered each of those questions and added a few additional moves that “just felt right.” Experienced actors and directors know that those feelings are always golden, and we followed them.

The actor playing Sam has bad knees that won’t allow him to sit on the floor and we agreed that a stage block—a two foot cube painted black—would be in keeping with the dystopian setting, especially if it was dented and battered.

We worked out all those blocking details about half a page at a time and then ran the play from beginning to end. Again—even with scripts in hand—we were choked up and the actors speculated that this will probably happen every time. 

I hope so, because that means they’re “in the moment” and not playing at the emotions. Of course, I’d like to see the audience equally moved. I’m pretty sure they will be.

Opening night is four weeks from the day this newsletter is posted.

TTFN

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If you received this email because it was forwarded to you by a subscriber, welcome. You can subscribe as well by following the link on my website: ericmargerum.com. A free story awaits you there.

Margerumalia – The Auditions

Eric Margerum

Newsletter – May 22, 2026

Auditions always give me a jittery feeling inside, even when I’m behind the director’s table. I always want everyone to do well so they can walk away feeling like they gave it their best shot. Actors in these auditions witness the readings of every other actor in their time slot, and read from at least two different plays.

We call it a reading because they stand up with script in hand, but we expect to see some eye contact and hear some expression. A little movement usually helps, too. Nothing like a good gesture to illustrate a point.

Our festival director reminded us that we didn’t need to see everyone read every role in our plays, or we’d be there all night. One experienced director scoffed at the idea, and assured those around him that he could cast his play even if nobody read for it at all.

No, that wasn’t me, but he was right.

With eleven short plays, the director’s table was well populated with directors. I knew about three-quarters of them and was interested to watch how everyone operated. I was pleased to see that they were all encouraging to the actors, applauding at the end of every reading, and generous with their laughter even after hearing the same punchline for the seventh time.

Hey, a good delivery deserves a good laugh.

I recently restarted my acting classes and gave my students a chance to practice a couple of pieces from the festival. (They were available to read on line.) Two of them came to the auditions and one of them was cast in a play. I was especially happy for him because he had auditioned for every Civic Theatre production for a year or two. His dogged determination to land a role finally paid off!

They both showed that they had listened to my instructions and I thought they performed well. I was a proud papa. So many people auditioned that a little more than half the actors got cast.

My play, “Out of the Abyss,” was one of the few dramas amidst a canoodle of comedies and I was glad to see actors treat it seriously. My male cast member is someone I’ve directed before and I’m fully confident about his abilities. The female cast member was someone I’d never seen before but it was clear she had talent and I was glad to be able to secure her for this play. 

Both actors complimented my writing of the play and had high praise for the subject matter. That was a nice topping to the whole process and I look forward to working with both of them.

First rehearsal is Saturday!

TTFN

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My middle grade novel, The Most Amazing Museum of Los Angeles is available through The BookBaby Bookshop at https://store.bookbaby.com/book/the-most-amazing-museum-of-los-angeles

Margerumalia – Myrtle The Turtle

Eric Margerum

Newsletter – May 15, 2026

On my morning walk a couple weeks ago I got the chance to meet this shy box turtle who wasn’t too keen on me getting so close. I thought about this turtle and as well as the knitted turtle I bought from my friend Em while creating another children’s poem.

I learned a couple things about turtles in my search for correct terminology and I want you to know about one before you read the poem. I use the word Testudines which has four syllables (tess-TOO-din-eez) with the emphasis is on the second syllable.

(Testudines are an order of reptiles made up of turtles, terrapins, and tortoises.)

Myrtle the Turtle 

#

Myrtle the turtle was known for her girdle, 

A fine looking girdle, they say.

Most every turtle is known for their shelling,

The patterns that turtles display.

#

“Not Myrtle,” the other Testudines said,

“She flounces her girdle with poise,

And she’ll lift up her beak to give you a tweak

If you make any impolite noise.”

#

The date of the scute competition arrived

And Myrtle showed up in her girdle.

But how could they tell if her scutes were all cute 

With the girdle creating that hurdle?

#

“Get rid of the girdle,” the judges told Myrtle,

“In order to show us your shelling.”

Embarrassed and shy, she moved to comply,

In her eyes the tears began welling.

#

Every Testudine looked on in shock 

And saw what the girdle was hiding,

All Myrtle’s scutes were totally plain

With no pattern or marking presiding.

#

“The Unadorned Queen!” the judges exclaimed,

All kneeling as best they were able,

The whole shelling crowd then hoisted her high,

To make Myrtle the head of the table.

#

Queen Myrtle reigned longer than forty-nine years

Then passed on her girdle to Mortise

His reign lasted almost for ninety-nine years 

Because he, of course, was a tortoise.

#

Like the last poem I shared, I added hashtags to separate the stanzas.

I hope you enjoyed it. I was tickled when I discovered the ending. I hadn’t seen that coming.

I had no idea where this poem was headed when I began, just the rhymes of turtle, Myrtle and girdle. It developed as I was writing it and searching for additional rhyming words for the end of each line.

If you want to get into the poetic weeds with me, the stanzas are pretending to be four lines alternating between four and three feet, but are, in fact, two lines of seven feet each. That’s where the rhymes fall. The very first line informed me how the poem wanted to sound.

Here’s the original turtle my friend knitted.

She sits on our dining room table and lends her soft shell to support my phone. 

Myrtle, they say, is a very good friend,

And she is a really cute turtle.

TTFN

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If you received this email because it was forwarded to you by a subscriber, welcome. You can subscribe as well by following the link on my website: ericmargerum.com. A free story awaits you there.

Margerumalia – The Proctor Factor

Eric Margerum

Newsletter – May 8, 2026

I’m proctoring AP tests this week for local high school students seeking Advance Placement for college credit. If they make a top score of 5 they have one less requirement to complete in their college career.

I complimented one student on her crisp new Stanford sweatshirt and asked if she had already been accepted. She had and was very pleased to hear my congratulations. 

I hope her parents didn’t have the same reaction as my mom when I said I got accepted to the University of Southern California for grad school. “So far away?” she asked with disappointment. I appreciated her wanting me nearer to home, but really wanted to hear that congratulations.

Proctoring exams takes a bit of training to be aware of sophisticated methods used to cheat. No longer do students sneak crib notes cradled in the palms of their hands. Nor do they write answers on their arms or their jeans. No we’re talking about technology here.

“Everyone must place all electronic devices on the table at the front of the room. Powered down. Not silenced or in Airplane Mode. This includes tablets, smart watches, and phones.” (I expect by next year they’ll include “smart glasses” on that list.)

The students use a laptop to take the test, but the software will cancel the test immediately if a student leaves the Bluebook Platform for any reason before the test is completed. 

The second part is a written component collected by the proctors.

I wonder if any of them were told to practice their penmanship. I remember reading years ago about an experiment where educators were asked to evaluate an essay. Some were given a version with poor handwriting and some were given a version with good handwriting. Same words in both cases.

Want to predict the outcome?

You’re right. The essays with good handwriting were universally evaluated with high scores while the ones with poor handwriting were lower. Same essay.

My wife and I are currently watching “Suits” on Netflix and those high powered lawyers are all dressed to the nines in every episode. Their clients trust the well dressed lawyers because they look successful. I can’t help but compare that to the penmanship experiment.

On the second day I was the only proctor in a small room of three and I read aloud all of the instructions with very few stumbles. I’m pleased to be able to say my speech is slowly improving, especially in comparison to my Father Of The Bride speech a year ago. I’ll take the win.

TTFN

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My middle grade novel, The Most Amazing Museum of Los Angeles is available through The BookBaby Bookshop at https://store.bookbaby.com/book/the-most-amazing-museum-of-los-angeles

Margerumalia – The Happiness Advantage

Eric Margerum

Newsletter – May 1, 2026

Look at that happy baby soaking up the summer sun in his oh-so-debonaire plastic pants! That’s Baby Eric running across the backyard to Mommy who’s holding the camera. He’s a little out of focus but my folks wouldn’t know it until they got the film developed. Today my iPhone would’ve captured the un-blurred enthusiasm in that boy’s face.

Side note: that’s my dad crouching over the garden at about half the age that I am now.  Time is such a surreal phenomenon.

Other side note: look at that old automobile in the neighbor’s carport! That’d be in a classic car show today. 

“You were a very happy baby,” my mom told me.

I was. I am. Happy, that is, not a baby. I’m not wearing waterproof undies anymore. Not yet anyway.

I’m currently reading a book called The Happiness Advantage that the chair of the Communication Department recommended when I was a dean at Vincennes University. The book is all about the advantages of positive psychology and the seven principles of a mindset that “fuels success and performance at work.”

I heard a woman in a recent podcast telling about a job she had as a teen making smoothies for people. She confided to her boss that she was bored and just wanted to go home. The boss suggested that she see every customer as an opportunity to make someone’s life a little better.

When she embraced that idea by being helpful and enthusiastic, looking for the opportunity to bring a smile to the face of every customer, her whole perspective of the job turned around. She enjoyed going to work. To this day, she still remembers that job as her favorite. That’d be the happiness advantage in a nutshell.

I haven’t finished the book but so far it’s been reinforcing my own worldview—the one I was born with. I look forward to reading about how the seven principles can be applied to life in general. Like everyone, I’ve had my share of bumps and bruises that life dishes out. I’d like to learn the way to keep those setbacks from getting the best of me.

I want to know how to help others accomplish that, too.

Here’s another picture of me a few years later that tells you a little bit more about my personality.

My imagination said, You’re flying, and so, of course, I was. It also helps to have your eyes closed. The reality behind closed lids is even more vivid than the one surrounding you. 

So vivid that my dad would accuse me of playing stupid when I suddenly exited my dream world and wanted to know what people were talking about. I knew better than to explain that I wasn’t playing stupid, I just wasn’t paying attention to the conversation. There’s no good path out of those woods. Either I’m stupid or you’re boring.

Look at the photo again. See how the sleeves are rolled up to accommodate my little five-year-old arms? I continued wearing that costume for years, growing into those sleeves and the rolled up pants. Family friends started calling me Super Eric. I’ve had very few nicknames in my life but I think I like that one best.

“You were such an easy child,” my mother told me, “I could set you down in the middle of the living room with a box of toys and you’d entertain yourself for hours.”

I gave free rein to my creativity and that was always a great experience. I’ve done the same for years in the theatre, and am applying the same approach to my writing. I hope my writing entertains you and keeps you out of boring conversations.

I also hope your creativity gets a chance to play.

TTFN

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If you received this email because it was forwarded to you by a subscriber, welcome. You can subscribe as well by following the link on my website: ericmargerum.com. A free story awaits you there.

Margerumalia – My Play Was Chosen!

Eric Margerum

Newsletter – April 24, 2026

I’m pleased to announce that my 10-Minute play “Out of the Abyss” was chosen for this year’s Civic Theatre Play Festival in June. There are so many talented playwrights on this list and I am both honored and humbled to be among them.

“Out of the Abyss” is an homage to Ray Bradbury’s short story “To the Chicago Abyss” which he also adapted into a one-act play by the same name. In it, an old unhomed man is muttering memories of brands of coffee, cigarettes, candy bars, movies, and fresh fruit when someone tries to shut him up for fear he’ll get taken away. Remembering things is not allowed in this dystopia.

I thought I could capture a similar feeling by having my unhomed man muttering the words of famous documents and speeches that define who we are as a nation. He, too, is in danger of getting hauled away by the authorities so a social worker desperately tries to make him stop. My title suggests a hopeful outcome if it’s received as I imagined.

My daughter read the play and commented that the feeling of my short play is “uncanny” and I like that description a lot. She said it feels like something out of 1984. I agree.

The festival director asked if I wanted to direct my play and I enthusiastically said yes. I’ve directed short plays in the festival for the past three years, and one full-length play for the youth theatre. I’m particularly excited because the atmosphere is mutually supportive, generous, and encouraging.

After auditions, for example, directors discuss who they want in their plays, and follow up with alternate choices in a give-and-take process to help every play to achieve its best.

I remember realizing one year that a young man hadn’t been cast in anything even though he did a good job in the auditions so I volunteered to give him a role in the play I was directing. He did a good job and has continued to be involved in Civic Theatre since. That’s the outcome we want! 

The last time I directed my own play in this festival I was encouraged by fellow playwright Steven G. Martin to submit it to other festivals and competitions. That play, “Just Book Club,” ended up getting collected in The Best 10-Minute Plays 2024. (You can see the book cover on my website at ericmargerum.com.)

The county library Spring Author Fair was sparsely attended due, they said, to an all-morning rain followed by a university bug fair that drew a lot of attendance. 

Ever eat a bug? Not on purpose! Me neither. Apparently scorpion pops have been a big draw in years past. Eww.

The one book I did sell was to an old friend of my parents who told me that he belonged to a play-reading group and they had read my play “Just Book Club.” He said it was very good and he and his wife plan to come see my next play in June.

TTFN

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My middle grade novel, The Most Amazing Museum of Los Angeles is available through The BookBaby Bookshop at https://store.bookbaby.com/book/the-most-amazing-museum-of-los-angeles

Margerumalia – The Birds & The Bees

Eric Margerum

Newsletter – April 17, 2026

Photo: Debbie Margerum

Spring has sprung, as they say, and the woods are full of life, so I thought I’d share a bit of it with you.

Debbie is so good at getting nature photos that I’m using some of hers. I tried to capture a bee on a purple flower from just two feet away, but I wasn’t close enough, so she let me borrow hers. It’s an art! The uncredited photos are mine.

This pair of Mallard ducks arrive every year about this time and enjoy paddling around in the stream. I’ve never seen them with youngsters, but this is their mating season. Fun fact: the Mallards are a sub-family of ducks called dabbling ducks. Isn’t that cute? 

Question: Are you a real duck?

Answer: Naw, I’m just dabbling.

The Redbuds are the big show-offs every spring because, you know, they can. Hillsides are covered with these audacious blooms, bringing a symphony of color to the woods before the maples, oaks, and birches can break out their greenery and soak up all the sunlight. 

As I was walking, I was wondering how to describe the color of these trees using only words. It can be really hard to capture—as are taste and smell—but I think I gave it a pretty good go with this sentence: 

The blossoms are a jubilant shade of pinkish purple normally exclusive to the domain of children’s toys and clothing.

Photo: Debbie Margerum

The squirrels are dashing everywhere digging up acorns they buried last fall. How do they know?! They must have a built-in geolocation app. This photo is from a couple years ago, back before we had to have the old oak tree removed. It’s like he posed for this portrait, it’s so perfect.

That old white oak was situated on the lot when my parents decided to build the house so they had the architect draw up plans in an L-shape to preserve the tree. We estimated that it was about 250 years old when we took it down. The hollow inside made it a danger to the house, but it lived a long grand life.

On my morning walks I constantly see red squirrels chasing away grey squirrels like the one in the photo. “Hey,” I say, “why can’t we just all get along?”

The bluebells opened up the other day. Can you tune in your faery senses to hear them ringing? It’s a subtle tinkling noise that calls to the pollinators, “We’re here! We’re here!”

I love that I could capture the morning dew glistening on these flowers. I’ve learned a few things from my talented photographer wife.

And just as the Easter egg is a symbol of fertility for this fecund spring season, our outdoor cats went into heat a couple of months ago enticing several tomcats to haunt the premises. 

That’s Tabitha on the left eating from the bowl. She’s brought us eleven kittens over three years. We’ve found them homes or had them taken to the Humane Society where they were adopted. She’s walking with a distinctive waddle now. We think she’ll give birth any day.

Her daughter Rocket—from the second litter—is seated on the Adirondack chair where the old oak tree used to stand, watching the early morning activities of the neighborhood. 

She’s also got a full womb. I know because I pet her every morning while she eats, and I talk to her about finding a good nesting spot away from predators but not too far away so she can still come to eat every morning on our front porch. Gotta be able to produce enough milk. 

It’s her first litter so I figure any information is only going to help.

From past experience we know we won’t see the kittens until about two months after they’re born. So watch this space for some adorable kitty pics in June!

TTFN

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If you received this email because it was forwarded to you by a subscriber, welcome. You can subscribe as well by following the link on my website: ericmargerum.com. A free story awaits you there.