Sunday night was Oscar night and we’d decided to have a little fun with it, co-hosting a party with Cindy and Mike, our too wonderful to believe next door neighbors. They’ve been in our life for close to three years now, and have become my closest friends in Seattle, where I still feel like a visitor at times. Home is where the heart is, however, and my heart belongs to Kay above all. The venue shifted back and forth during the week, from our kitten filled house, to their rather funky abode, perhaps more suited to a night of celebrating Hollywood excess. In the end, it came down to a game of Roshambo and yes, I went Zen with paper, rather than edgy with scissors or in your face with rock and… Cindy won. Oh, well. I was never all that good with competitive games. I just liked to play and the outcome never bothered me as much as it does most, something that bothers Kay more than a little when we’re playing board games. ‘You’re not taking this seriously, Rach.’ She’d admonish me from. I was a nice sunny day out so they did their makeup lighter than usual and dressed in short skirts and short-sleeved blouses, tan tights and blonde or brunette wigs. Lightly accessorised and wearing high-heeled sandals the girls came downstairs and Mama immediately doted on them.“Mama Mia! Such bella femmenielli!” she cooed and poured them a glass of chilled Chianti each.Without the taxi driver to translate, most of the conversation consisted of smiles and hand gestures but the girls got the gist that Mamma saw herself as the girl’s assistant and protector. She doted on them offering them cigarettes and another glass of wine. She interrupted their little party to make a brief phone call and tried to explain to the girls the substance of the call; they couldn’t understand but they were enjoying themselves regardless.About twenty minutes after the call a handsome bronzed-skinned young man with wavy black hair came into the parlour. He was wearing tight black jeans, a spotless white.
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