Since today is one of those days, I'm a little bit irritated that I have to stop by St. Agnes, my little brother's school, and talk to his principal. ... pull up to his office. His name is Mr. Grant. He was the principal when I went to middle school here, and I vaguely remember him being attractive, but I was too young to care much at the time. I suddenly become conscious of the fact that I am clad only in my workout gear. Don't get me wrong - I have nothing to be ashamed of. My perky 36 C's are. But as usual, her absence outlasted the real brunt of my ire. By the time she sauntered in, both the indignation of getting stood up again and my fury with her for putting my oils up without asking had dwindled. Her apologies were honest and effusive. My tea had cooled. And once more I was just glad to see her back safe.I was somewhat less glad, however, to meet the culprit who’d kept her away all evening. ‘Serge’, she told me gleefully, was a noted choreographer, an aspiring impresario, and. More

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