Mr Wicker smSo it really was a broken air conditioner, or rather a blown fuse in the air conditioner.  It’s fixed now.  We survived. We spent one night at my mother’s because our house, after being closed up all day while we were at work and school, was well and truly uninhabitable–96 degrees indoors and stifling, with outdoor temperatures up to 105.

Today–which was balmy by comparison–our friend Maria was signing copies of her first novel, Mr. Wicker, at Dark Delicacies  in Burbank.  Sundown tonight: 6:52.  That gives me a little time to read the first chapter or so while there’s still daylight. (I have a strong sense this isn’t a book to read in the dark.)

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