And now, a few words from Chris Erskine
Our Man of the House, Chris Erskine, has moved to Saturdays along with the rest of the Home section. On Thursdays, we give you a teensy peek into his fevered, suburban brain:
It’s raining steadily -- in the key of B-flat –- the drops pinging against the windows and burping down the downspouts. Honestly, I don’t know how much more of this winter weather I can take.
“What’s that sound?” the little guy asks.
“A nor-easter,” I say.
“Dad, we live in L.A.,” says the little girl.
“We do?”
Love the rain. Without fail, the first real rain of the year comes just after I clean the skylight or wash both cars. For dads with a god complex -– and that’s most of the ones I’ve ever met -– washing the skylight is a surefire way to take complete control of the nation’s weather systems.
“I think,” says Posh, with a shiver, “that I’ll put a fire in the fireplace.”
Spreads heat everywhere she goes, that woman. Bad enough she’s started wearing sweaters again, in broad daylight, with children around.
She’s my Bond girl. My muse. My very best pal. When she puts on a sweater and starts a fire in the fireplace, it’s almost more romance than I can accommodate. “What do you want for dinner?” she asks.
Yarn! That sweater! You!
“How 'bout hamburgers?” Posh purrs.
Can't wait to read the rest tomorrow? Try cooling your heels in the Erskine Archive.
