Saturday, with rules of order

After the first twenty miles, the road narrowed unexpectedly.

In the median, yellow tractors were pulling out the last remnants of trees.

There was some consultation of the map in order to readjust the route.

The meeting room was in a lower level of the clubhouse; there were no windows.

Two coffee urns: black lid for regular, orange for decaf.

The sun shone where golfers braved the cold.

In the room, the president periodically asked people to speak louder.

At lunch, members were seated in random groups around soups and salads.

A woman took notes; some talk circled around the words contest and website and recuse.

Pink and yellow flyers were distributed.

Only one man from the local university left his on the table when the meeting adjourned.


In response to Via Negativa: Cooked.

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