Writing from West Coast

 I am in Burbank, California, visiting a little cottage on Angeleno Avenue. This morning, I woke up to the fresh, balmy sea air since my brother Wes had opened all the windows. The scent of roses and newly cut grass wafted in on the temperate breeze.
Then the sound of rap music, loud and hard, entered the scene. I arose from my air mattress to look out the window, expecting to see a low rider with a tough looking man inside. Instead, it was the UPS guy! Ha ha! They never boom out the sound system like that in Arizona. I was delighted.

I slept in a tad because Maya woke up last night. She is my niece, about one and a half years of age. I went in her room to ask Lyndsay, my sister in law, if I could do anything to help. It turned out to be a knee-bouncing, dream sharing, middle of the night party for us girls. And it went on for some time.

Lyndsay just got back from Greece. While there, the "evil eye" found her. This is what the resident Greecian grandmother told her. She got terribly sick, and spent a great deal of time in foreign hospitals. She said they are not gentle when placing an IV in the vein.

I listened in horror to her account. What is this "evil eye" that the people of Greece speak of? Do I need a talisman, too? Did it really make my dear sister ill? Then I thought of a line from a song:

"I ain't superstitious-"

Where was I? Well, so this Greek grandma told Lyndsay that the "evil eye" found her and made her sick. Whatever it was, she was sure sick. She was so skinny I could tell I was going to have to start cooking for her. (I like butter.)

(Okay, the mailman just dropped the mail in the slot in the front door and nearly gave me a heart attack. I am never going to get used to that.)

Last night, we watched "The Young Victoria". I had had a rigorous day of making hot dogs, dodging T-Rex toys, and all in all being loved wholeheartedly by my niece and nephew. That is the only excuse I can offer for what I said. It went like this.

Lyndsay: "There is a lot of blue in this movie- especially in the romantic scenes." (She has a heightened awareness of all visual triggers.)

Me: "You are right. Oh, and remember what Albert was wearing when he taught Victoria archery? It was the most beautiful Canary blue." (I said this with such confidence that Lyndsay did not reply for sometime. She was just really quiet, like she was contemplating something.)

Lyndsay: "But... canaries are yellow."

Then we looked at each other, and began to laugh like we were tipsy. (Of course, we were not.) It got worse from there, but I can only say that I am tired of pretending like I know everything for the general public (my job), so I must have needed a reason to slip. Whatever the cause, it was a good laugh, and how many of those do we really get?

Lyndsay brought me honey from Greece. I am so excited to try it.