Kids have decided I must move. For Christmas east coast contigent brought New York Times red cookie jar, Library's lion bookends, and a variety of 7th Avenue treats. West coast insisted on touring LA with a "just to look at" side trip. Thimble-size Spanish cottage in Toluca Lake (sunflowers in the courtyard) where the realtor's bible is current week's shooting schedule. "Sixty seconds and we're going live!" (Remember). Next, a tiny glass-fronted bungalow in the Hollywood Hills with a 9% grade gravel driveway and a fall-away road to get there. They argued east and west pounding their fists on the table. I stayed complacent in the kitchen. Stu, comfortable by the fireside, didn't even look up from his crossword puzzle. I love them all, and...they have jobs and lives to go back to... soon enough.
Love to Newburyland!