A few years ago, a thirty-something couple moved into the house behind us. They had two girls under age five and another baby on the way. When the mom told me that her husband once danced and sang on a table, I assumed she was indulging in nostalgia rather than foreshadowing.
Until festive lights went up in the backyard. This was followed by a disco ball, loud music, and the chanting of “Drink, drink, drink!”
Another neighbor called and asked where the frat party was.
I’m still on ski vacation, while Andy drove back LA. He’s enjoying some “alone time,” and promised to take down the Christmas tree and decorations before I get home. I’m having a girl’s week with my friend M. She has a timeshare, and we’re using her points for a place up at Cedar Breaks Lodge. (Don’t ask me how timeshares and points work. All I know is that I owe her dinners, lift tickets, massages, and probably my firstborn. ) Continue reading The Mystery of the Fire (#107)
I’m a light sleeper. This is a great trait for fending off nocturnal predators. As there are no leopards in Los Angeles, waking at the slightest noise is now merely useful for moving a cat before it pukes on your new rug at 3 AM. Continue reading Midnight Caller (#88)