I was relieved; to me, a handgun was a tool to be mastered and used when needed for its intended purpose, no different than a chainsaw or a hammer, no... something to have endless discussions about. I suspected that Julia felt the same, but we avoided finding out just then.I set the table as she put spaghetti pasta into boiling water. I lightly touched her shoulder as I walked up behind her, my fingers at the base of her neck so that I could read her. “This may sound like a weird question – maybe. The resulting wet wall was perfect for fresco painting. Enter David Bromstad.David was an artist. He had used my whole house as his canvas. I was very grateful he was good at it, though a couple were a little crazy. Since he was there, showing me his work, I realized he craved validation like every other artist. I told him he was going to have to leave the frescoes in place. Pulling whole walls for a museum exhibit was not going to happen. He took me seriously for a moment, then started. More

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