The four women sitting at the back table at Crop Circles looked typical at first glance. If this were a movie, things would start off wide, beams of sunlight slanting down from the west, letting you know it's late afternoon. A big pan shot, showing idyllic rolling hills topped with brilliantly colored leaves of red and orange, surrounded by beautiful sprawling homes and ranches separated by white wooden fences that look like dotted lines from above, then the camera would scan right, past the little stream that is marked as Cosby Creek but everyone calls Casper Creek because of the ghost sightings, over the hills and then you would see the town of Tranquility. It's laid out in a perfect grid, with the Christmas tree factory to the north and the old rail yard to the south, highlighted by the depot that has been turned into a science museum for kids. The houses start off big, on tree lined streets, then get smaller and more dense the closer you get to the town square. The camera would zoom in, flying down Adams Street, drifting slightly right and left to give you the illusion of flight, dodging the cars parked on the left and right, in spite of the fact that parking isn't allowed on the right side. You'd pass a handful of businesses just before the square, the title company, a Ford dealership with a gleaming black Cobra sitting in the front window, a pharmacy and a pawn shop. When you finally get to the square, the camera pulls in tighter and you see the old courthouse, a stately stone square, squat and solid, with an old cannon outside, a tribute to fallen soldiers from Cedar County. That tells you right away that Tranquility is the county seat of Cedar County, a small town, yes, but big compared to other towns in the area, and important. This is where things happen. And the true center of activity, the pulse of the town is coming up on your right. The camera passes a sporty gray convertible Mustang, a racy red Mercedes coupe, a chic dark gray Cadillac and a worn out blue minivan with bald tires, among other vehicles, then the image zooms in on a storefront. The plate glass window is filled with goodies of all types, very retro and spacey looking, lots of circles and swirls, all showing off paper crafts, papers, paint cans, albums and other assorted ephemera related to the hobby of scrapbooking. The painted words along the plate glass window declare that this store is the Crop Circle. A large green alien head smiles beside the words. The glass door swings open with a merry jingle, the camera swoops past shelves and racks, past the center counter – an island of business in the chaos of the store – and to the large open area in the back of the store. A mural of the New Mexico landscape covers one wall, with Roswell identified in the background and a crashed space ship with a tall gray  alien laying beside it in the foreground. A black helicopter hovered in the air, frozen in time on the wall. The back wall was completely covered with chalkboard paint, and people had decorated it with all kinds of jottings and drawings and squiggles. The other wall was completely covered with a whiteboard, similarly covered with jottings and drawings and squiggles and notes from one scrapper to another. Several long white banquet tables are set up in the back area, with women gathered around them in folding chairs like hens around a pile of fresh grain. From the outside, men probably think that’s exactly what they are – a bunch of clucking hens. But look a little closer. Especially at the table in the back left corner. The table isn’t crowded. Four women sit together, gathered at the center of the table, two on each side, with their supplies on the ends of the table. There are four women, a pixie like blonde, cute as a button, with an upturned nose and everything. Beside her is a frazzled looking woman, older than the pixie. At least, she looks older at first glance, with her frizzy hair pulled back in a ponytail to hide the fact that it has no shape, no style. She wears no makeup. At closer look, they’re probably closer in age than you first thought. Across from the frazzled woman is her opposite, a tall, slender woman with a sleek bob. Her dark hair is smooth and chic, cut at an angle, longer in front, shorter in back. Stacked, the stylist called it. Everything about her is perfect, from her clothes to her makeup to her hair. Even the layout in front of her is perfectly laid out in a grid. Next to the sleek brunette is a redhead with long, flowing locks that fall in loose waves. Her makeup is applied with a much more liberal hand than any of the others. Her clothes are expensive, and her V-neck blouse is buttoned one button too many. Her breasts are large and worth every penny, she admits readily. The first thing most people notice about her, male or female, is her curves. Outside of the store, the four women might not have been friends. It’s not like they hang out together. But their Wednesday night cropping sessions had brought them together, and they attended the crops as religiously as most of the Bible thumpers in town attended Wednesday night church. One by one, they had found the store. One by one, they learned that scrapbooking was an exciting and fun hobby that brought them together. Their crafty creations were almost a byproduct of their time together.