sleeping, there is a guy behind me talking to himself. Or is he?
Sounds like Mohammed Ali. The pretty, fashionably dressed young black
woman who got off, probably a worker at the department store.
On Christmas Eve, on the way back from the Japanese steakhouse in the
western suburbs, we stopped at my sister-in-law's house. She gave me
fat measuring scale she'd gotten.
--
David
www.schons.net
