The phone rang several times before I lunged for it. After the long April break it was a thrill to hear her voice.
“Sydney, Sydney, Sydney,” I droned in my best Cary Grant imitation. “How’s it hangin’?” I pulled a stool to the kitchen sink, which afforded me an excellent view of the birdfeeder on our back deck. But I was in arm’s reach of Mama Kitty whose bowl of kibble was now relegated to the counter given Beansie’s proclivity for eating cat food and farting the night away. So, I pushed it away from my nostril zone and pulled a human snack-treat toward me
“Everything’s hanging low these days, Clar, and getting lower with every passing year. How are you? How’s my girl?”
“I’m good. Fat and happy after a week in Minnesota.”
“Yeah? You got to recharge those crazy batteries of yours?”
“I did. Sorted my head out a bit about this Bidwell-Coggin stuff. Finally stopped having that nightmare where I’m drowning in a fish bowl that DeNutti is holding up to his face while laughing himself silly. How ‘bout you?”
“You know, I did as I always do. Hung out with my mom in L.A. while the boys wasted an entire week with their father. But hey, I can’t go there and my mama always feeds me. Plus she does my laundry.”
“What is it about you and me, Sydney, that we seem to be the only women at B-C who go home to their mothers on holidays? How come we aren’t going to Majorca or Monaco?”
“Money, baby girl, money. It’s that simple. Anyway, I was wondering if I caught you at a good time or if you were busy?”
“No, I’m good. Just doin’ a load of darks and flipping through the new Ikea catalogue. Zeppo’s watching a video in the other room. Why?”
“I need to talk to you about a couple of things. Well, two things actually. Are you sitting down?”
“Sydney, Sydney, Sydney,” I droned in my best Cary Grant imitation. “How’s it hangin’?” I pulled a stool to the kitchen sink, which afforded me an excellent view of the birdfeeder on our back deck. But I was in arm’s reach of Mama Kitty whose bowl of kibble was now relegated to the counter given Beansie’s proclivity for eating cat food and farting the night away. So, I pushed it away from my nostril zone and pulled a human snack-treat toward me
“Everything’s hanging low these days, Clar, and getting lower with every passing year. How are you? How’s my girl?”
“I’m good. Fat and happy after a week in Minnesota.”
“Yeah? You got to recharge those crazy batteries of yours?”
“I did. Sorted my head out a bit about this Bidwell-Coggin stuff. Finally stopped having that nightmare where I’m drowning in a fish bowl that DeNutti is holding up to his face while laughing himself silly. How ‘bout you?”
“You know, I did as I always do. Hung out with my mom in L.A. while the boys wasted an entire week with their father. But hey, I can’t go there and my mama always feeds me. Plus she does my laundry.”
“What is it about you and me, Sydney, that we seem to be the only women at B-C who go home to their mothers on holidays? How come we aren’t going to Majorca or Monaco?”
“Money, baby girl, money. It’s that simple. Anyway, I was wondering if I caught you at a good time or if you were busy?”
“No, I’m good. Just doin’ a load of darks and flipping through the new Ikea catalogue. Zeppo’s watching a video in the other room. Why?”
“I need to talk to you about a couple of things. Well, two things actually. Are you sitting down?”
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