i thgh mg t s septeer. shngvi i d live in his house for free, or from somewhere god knew i'd never return. eventually, a friend asked meo shid hri cgnd ofhe rynd w m like eve each other and that we had some things in common. the day before i decided that the next woman i dated needed to have been the daughter of a waitress. i'd ted the daughters of doctors and lawye and bankers nere w ndtas etaeap mexican place. i hadn't been since -- for few months. this woman, this is the first time that i met christa, and i knew that she would be in my life for a hg tim pps fl,l s top and cowboy boots. here at the end of summer she was dark, but i could tell in winter her skin would turn a luxuriouwhite. she said funny things about hippies and monks and yoga a cehild eryme s e stof college she'd worked at this mexican restaurant. when she said this, i must have stared at her both stupidly and longingly. she might be the one. but not only had christa been a waitress at thisame man au, mrace enaisa lejeune, and as a child