Thursday, July 22, 2004

it's not the heat...

my sister and her husband are in escrow on a house on the westside of l.a. i'm so excited for them; they will live a teeny walk away from the only dive bar in l.a. where you can smoke illegally. i know where i'm staying for thanksgiving.

we talked on the phone a couple of nights ago and she gushed about a vintage wedgewood stove that's included (for $1) in the asking price. my sister is the only woman i know who can ramble breathlessly about a cooking appliance.

(it is cute, however - very lucy ricardo.)
it's the heat AND humidity. ugh. humidity at 90% and it's 80 deg. yuck yuck yuck.

madame is back in the office having beat back the tears of grief and i have temporarily shelved the Worst Romance Novel (at least until she's caught up and i can sneak back to it again). besides, i seem to be stuck at why my heroine is being such a bitch. i think my inner life is seeping through. not that i'm feeling partici--whoops. hafta run.

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