Ahh, the memories of a carefree time fraught with intrigue and reckless passion for enterprise! Let's catalog a few reminiscences, shall we? Abandoned carriage house. Check. Crumbling gas station and man wrapped in old bathrobe. Check. International espionage. Definitely. Sir Percy Blakeney, Baronet. Of course. Marcus Gilbert. Double check! Skinny Dipping? I can't reveal all our secrets!
The Blonde Brigade! Doesn't the name itself conjure up romance and excitement? That's certainly what we, the founding members of the Blonde Brigade, think! My readers may be wondering how a handful of Scandinavian descendants in Northern Utah could possibly be involved in such adventure. The answer is simple: imagination!
Long live Ang, Trish, Kay, Jules & Kate (and me, of course)! Long live the Blonde Brigade!
(Now you just have to look at the pictures and guess who is who. Who is the dancing Devonshire Maiden and who is merely represented by a few thousand pixels of color?)
1 comment:
...and I have Scarlet pimpernel memorized. So very sad. Can a brunette be a closet member?
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