Goodwill to Want-to-Be Locals
Last year I returned home after trying to live on the Big Island for several months. At the time I was relieved to once again feel the motherly embrace of Santa Barbara, and I soon found myself sharing coffee with Bob Burton’s round table of cronies.
An elegant slab of botoxed marble glided by as Bob boomed the millennium’s minutes. She gave us a haughty, disdainful look. Bob regaled her with morning salutations.
“Blah, blah, blah, ” she growled back through perfect fish lips.
