And then the bastard ate them all himself

Unloading groceries.  House is empty, kids at school. Husband saunters by, discovers newly-bought cookies. Husband, shocked: “Cookies, Anne?”  Sucks air between his teeth, eyeing them. “Naughty!” Me, eyebrow raised, best seductive voice:  “Yes.  I should be punished.” Husband, raising flirtatious eyebrow in return:  “I will punish you…”  Becomes serious.  “…by throwing
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Slow March of the Something-Bad

What happens now is a lull in phone calls.  There’s no firm, “Call on Tuesday by 10:00″ schedule between us, but six days will stretch to eight without Mom or Middle calling. Low dose nervousness ratchets up, so I’ll call, and no one will answer.  Those two information points are
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Lucky Thirteen

Took the train to Santa Barbara for our 13th wedding anniversary. Went to the museum of modern art. Walked around town.   Ate this giant goldfish. Drank four margaritas between the hours of 6 and 11 pm.  My husband tried to take me for a romantic walk on the beach,
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Then There Were Four

This week,  I came out to Little, Anne-wise.  (Sorry — ‘crossing the streams’ used to be the code phrase, but it started to sound like some golden shower/outdoor peeing kind of thing.) I sent her my first year of posts, since taken down.  Like boiling a frog, I figured if
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