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Leavenworth

I did, in fact, eat a bratwurst while I was there, and looked at lots and lots of faux-Bavarian tchochkes. However, I resisted the siren call of the Nutcracker Museum.

The signing and the reading both went well. The latter was held in a cozy private banquet room at Visconti's, an Italian restaurant just up the road from A Book For All Seasons. Leavenworth is the kind of small town where everyone knows everyone, and my dinner companions' story of how they were all related -- through business, friendship, marriage, or blood -- would have made an interesting novel in its own right. I came home well-fed and happy.

P.S. Snowhopper, Brigitta, and Snowball say hi.

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