From: jmh@cipric.mn.org (Janet M. Huss)
Newsgroups: alt.callahans
Subject: Potstickers, Giants, and Goodbye
Date: 14 Apr 92 19:19:20 GMT
Organization: School of Computer Science, Carnegie Mellon
Originator: spok@MATHOM.GANDALF.CS.CMU.EDU

Dragon dreams are interrupted by the smell of potstickers ....

>The only thing that comes to mind is the smell of the potstickers, stronger
>than ever.  Birith manages a bow to the Gray Lady, thinking, <<Pardon me,
>but could I have some of those wonderful, delicious, scrumptious
>potstickers that you have there?>>, his huge eyes whirling a very
>appealing shade of blue.

"Of course!" she chuckles.  "I made them for you."  And the Grey Lady
watches the blue dragon start into his share.

>Birith looks up from his potstickers after hearing something about them being
>fried.  He pokes his rather large nose at one and sniffs carefully and then
>bites down delicately, chews a bit, and declares, <<No, these seem to be
>steamed.  I have seen fried potstickers offered, but steamed seems to be the
>most common type at least in Pern and Ohio...>>

The Grey Lady interjects: "Indeed, these are steamed, though I'll use
either method."

>Birith shakes his head at the sausage part, <<Shrimp or wherry is much better,>but most of the time I just eat them too quickly to notice what's inside.
>P'relan says that they vary quite a bit from restaurant to restaurant...>>
>Having made his comments, Birith returns to the infinitely more important
>business of filling the draconic stomach.

"Yes, but some humans are less fond of wherry than you are.  I think there's
probably some shrimp-filled ones at the bottom."

The Grey Lady then watches the antics of the plethora of Giants and the
VW bug.  By the time they are through, she's doubled over with laughter
and wiping tears from her eyes.  Nevertheless, she manages to compose
herself when the Giant returns for potstickers.

> He rushes
>towards the potstickers, bellowing at the top of his lungs, then notices
>(with more than a little awe) the incredible number of potstickers still
>left.  Nodding gratefully to the Grey Lady, and smiling benificently at the
>dragon, the Giant leans up against the bar, content to munch and share.

"Good thing I figured out the secrets to the bottomless pot."

The Grey Lady's manner turns more serious, then.  "Folks, I have come to
say goodbye.  Or, rather, hasta luego.  I find that the demands on my
time because of my promotion and my returning to college have put me in
the position of having to trim other things out of my life, at least for
a while, if I'm to have any time left over for someone really important --
my son.  I hope that, during the summer, I can once again join you.  In
the meantime, I hope that some of you will keep in touch with me via
e-mail -- I'd like to hear from you, and I'll still be reading mail.  But
I'm not going to be reading news for a good while to come.

"I've enjoyed the time here tremendously.  I expect to be back when I
don't have quite as many things warring for my time.

"Don't forget me, okay?"  With that, she walks through the room offering
hugs to those who will accept them, with a whispered, "I'll be back"
promise.

She opens the door to the place.  Outside, tendrils of grey mist
reach out to her.  She walks out until the mist surrounds her, and
she disappears.  Inside, a blue firelizard launches into flight and
dives out the door behind her.  The door swings closed.

A few seconds later, the teletype clicks on and a brief message is
printed out.  It reads:

          Of course, I might send Luth in for a peek
          at what's going on ... now and then. :-)

The Grey Lady
jmh@cipric.mn.org