As close as you can become to life in Tacoma is marked with rumors of ancient myths of Monday nights where you dance in cars, chain smoke, and roam freely as if this could be your last chance to engage. Where have you gone, where are you going and why do we do this? The dime you once picked up from the floor has become a trail that you blocked with boards and nails.

The girls met a man named Ira at Pacific Grill tonight. He hugged us goodnight and told us to live dangerously. Ira was a man who owned his own software consulting business. Ira offered us jobs and told me to send him my resume. He was just passing through. I do believe tonight he wanted to stay in Tacoma with the girls but, we had other important things to attend to on this Monday evening. Ira, huh...a strange name for a man who ordered two meals.

Tomorrow, get crafty, take some time to relax and Melanie, finish cleaning your bedroom.