Warning: watching too much of The Sopranos can really mess with your head. Last night, just after finishing Season One, we headed to bed. Moments later, there were three loud bangs. We just looked at each other. It was a flashback 2005 style when we had our first drive-by just a week after moving in. A few seconds later, there were six more bangs.
"Those aren't fireworks," Matt said sitting straight up.
He was a little spooked obviously. I was more interested in sleep than safety. He dragged my half-dressed self down to the basement where the potential stray bullets couldn't pierce our brains. I think it was more a result of our TV viewing than anything. His brain was probably considering who could possibly be getting capped in our neighborhood. I made him watch "The Next Food Network Star" as a mild punishment.
p.s. Thank you MPR for broadcasting Bill Clinton over the lunch hour. I could listen to that man all the livelong day.
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