Growing up one block South of Lake Calhoun in the 1970’s meant two things:
1) Over-charging for watered-down Kool-Aid on the boulevard
2) Wearing a neighbor’s pilly-bottomed blue leotard for a swimsuit
Like little ducklings, we’d follow my mom down the block for a day at Thomas Beach; she’d stand ankle-deep in the water, hands on hips, plotting. And staring at the only skyscraper in the Minneapolis skyline.


and working on the book. Here’s a teaser:
PUT YOUR GLASSES ON.
and my prayers were sort of answered, because Jen came to search/tear the house apart.
Tib had means AND motive. She was questioned and released.
Poor Tib… We accused her of eating her weakest kitten. (True story.)
The kitten was later found, unharmed.
Oh, the cats? Never mind those. This place is crawling with them.
Fine, here’s this year’s Christmas tree.

See how intense she is?
(I was just as stoic as the woman in the above illustration while they performed my surgery. Eyes wide open, no tears.)

