There was a big blow here last night. Wind, rain, lightning, thunder. The house shook and shook. Listen we had hail the size of balls. I went out on the deck to grab my chilies and I could see funnel clouds dropping all around me. Trash and tree limbs and pieces of cardboard flying everywhere. I told Max I felt like that cow in Twister. He said I looked like that cow, too. Big comedian. Max ought to be on television. The History Channel. Ha! Now that's pretty good.
¡Hola!¡Hola!
¿Cómo está?


You are witnessing a momentous occasion here. I, Blanca Delgado, live and uncut, am writing my column directly into Max's computer. I am taking the bull by the horns and letting the cow chips fall where they may. And even though there is much danger involved, and I risk everything by doing this, we Delgado women are known as risk-takers and nothing if not dangerous. We can't help ourselves. It's in our jeans.

So maybe you haven't been keeping up with my column. Maybe you don't know why this is a risk for Blanca. I'll tell you. It's a risk because Max don't know I'm doing it. I imagine he'll have a brain seizure when he finds out, and that may happen sooner than I think cause he's already been gone an hour jogging the dog. So I'm sitting here on tender hooks waiting for the two of them to come dragging through the front door with their sand all over my clean floors. But I get ahead of myself. You probably missed some things.

Friday morning I persuaded Max to move my stuff into the spare bedroom. That took longer than we expected. Saturday we had extra keys made except for the car which he said I'd see hell freeze first. Sunday he made a list of rules and regulations for my staying here. That also took longer than we expected. So I'm laying low this week and keeping out of his hair and off the phone. I haven't been able to clean or cook because of my broken arm but my fingers work just fine. I can type a little, and I'm real good with the TV remote.

About my arm. Max didn't break it although he did threaten to wring my neck once. He's so grouchy. No, I broke my arm outside on the steps.

The beachhouse sits on stilts, see, and a few days ago I was running up the stairs when my foot went through a damn rotten plank. Max rushed me to the emergency room in Galveston and while we were waiting for the doctor I told him my landlady hated me and kicked me out of my apartment for no good reason. And there we were.

Anyway. Each day when Max is on the PC I been watching over his shoulder what he's doing. Paying close attention. But the sofa is in the middle of the room behind the desk and I have to pull myself up by my good arm to see what buttons he pushes. I nearly got caught four times. Still, since Max figures I'm not smart enough to learn innernet it was easy bluffing my way through those close calls. I just told him I was looking at the waves. Except for one time when I fell off the couch. That took a better lie.

Now I am sitting here and preparing for the worst. When Max gets home and sees my hands on his hard drive he's gonna have a fit. I'm hoping he won't stay mad for long, though. I'm hoping that after the yelling and screaming is finished we can discuss this like mature adults.

I know! I will offer my services to him as Personal Assistant! I cna type his plays for him and write his emails and there's no telling what else. He might even put me in charge of the website! Of course we will have to hire another maid because I can't do everything around here. Also my salary will need some increasing.

Uh oh. I just heard the dog bark. Now I am listening to sound of keys in the doorhole! My tension mounts. My heart beats. Suddenly the door is opening and Max enters the house. He takes the dog off the leash. He puts the leash away. He stops. He stares at me like he don't believe his eyes. There is a terrible expression on his face which makes my blood run cold. Now he is walking toward me and nflskl[;di;;///!!!!

Please excuse us for a moment. Blanca and I have a few things things to discuss.



MAX CITY