Seat belts

A suburban desert, 110 degrees, fireball sun, every slice of metal, silver, gold, rusted car parts about to drip onto asphalt lava, and we have to run errands…Pipsqueak shields his eyes from the afternoon UV rays in a spastic contortion that nearly knocks us both off balance, while he starts to say his new favorite words over and over, "Nice!" "Mice!" "Nice!" "Mice!"…Dear God, I'm thirsty--it would be wrong to drink whole milk from a sippy cup, right? There IS a Starbucks in here. But, I haven't wasted money on a chic drink since my days of working full time. It's been a year and a half--I don't remember the size chart for overpriced, ice-filled drinks…He better not pull a Jetson's maneuver and wheel out a robot to whip up my liquid dessert…I'm such a good decision maker (lick, sizzle on my tushie--well, that's how the movie version will capture it)! Read More »