BIG THANKS to all the people who prepared all this for another successful year at the Nebraska State Fair–Charlene Neely, Jeanette Bjerrum and everyone else who had a hand in the awesome booth set up.
If you go to the fair, and you don’t have time to participate sharing your work with the fair-goer world, please stop by our booth and show your support for our Nebraska talent. It’ll be well worth the visit.
The Nebraska State Fair runs now thru September 1st.
(Thanks, in advance, to Sabrina and Kathy for letting me Bogart their photo!)
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Who I am: Gauntlet thrower, WordPress wrangler, caffeine imbiber, word-sprinter extraordinaire…but I believe that my official title is Archivist and Historian for Pistachio, the Superdog
Where I am: Rural jungles of northeast Nebraska. Yes, Nebraska has jungles. A very good PR person decided that “Midwest jungles” just didn’t jive with the wholesome, good-natured branding they wanted to use for the area, so they chose “prairies” instead.
Tell you what: Don’t mow at all for six weeks, then you evaluate: jungle or prairies? I know my choice. The monkeys sunbathing from the roof of my car just confirm my beliefs. http://www.cjaiferry.com
What I write: Gritty rural stories (under the pen name C. Jai Ferry) plus a bunch of other stuff under various other pen names (pen names: best invention ever!).
What I do for the guild: Drive the board crazy with ideas. (I heard one of them—yes, I know who you are—even changed the email notification to play Beethoven’s fifth symphony when my emails land in the ol’ inbox). When I am not scaring board members, I scour the ends of the Internet looking for interesting, well-written articles to share with the guildies. (Insider tip: I don’t really scour. I have stuff delivered to me. If I had to scour, I’d never get anything done. Plus “scour” reminds me of cleaning [shudders], which I am deathly allergic to.) I am also keeper of the passwords for the Twitter et al. accounts.
How do I communicate: Via the NWG website’s messaging system is best to avoid getting lost within the piles (yes, I am a piler—who else? C’mon, lemme see those hands! Ahh, my people…)
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