And before you ask, no, I don’t know why Brandy insists on breaking up my chapters by inserting one of her own in between, which completely discombobulates my forward momentum. (Isn’t that a wonderful word, discombobulate? ) Furthermore, it further chips away at my precious word count (editorially enforced) by the need to remind you, dear reader, where we were when last we were together. As a matter of fact, I can’t remember where that was myself! Oh, yes. I had just had a most interesting and informative lunch with the Romeos, where I was able to confirm persistent rumors that the Eight of Clubs was, in fact, not a bridge club but a . . . shall we say . . . swing set. (Clever, no?) (Note from Brandy to Mother: Clever no.) (Note from Mother to Brandy: Clever yes!) (Note from Editor: Ladies . . . ) Even though the afternoon stretched out before me in seeming infinity, I had plenty of places to go, things to do, and people to see. Which meant I needed to get cracking and seek transportation.
