Hiswaist was drawn in to an hour glass shape and he stood on histiptoes. It hurt to try to stand flat footed. His head wasovercome with blonde tresses...than hung to his waist and curledabout his face like an old Farah Fawcett hairdo from Charlie'sAngels. He could not see his face, but he knew, in his heart,what it looked like. He stared at the clock on the wall. It had reached thethirty minute mark and that meant his changes had ended. Hewaited in vain for her to return and release him.. ."I hugged her again. "You know I'm a safe driver." I know but..."Want to compare traffic tickets?" I asked with a grin. "We could go lifetime, the last year, the last three months, or just the weekend."Mom blushed. She'd gotten a ticket on the way to Seattle. She averaged three of four a year. "That's not the point," she protested."And the point would be?"Mom looked exasperated.Dad laughed. "Give it up. You haven't won an argument with him since we moved from California." You're a lot of. More

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