by Sheila Kinsella || Sadie flopped into an armchair and watched the solar-powered toy hula lady wiggling away on the windowsill.
by Sheila Kinsella || On a rainy Sunday afternoon in October, I pour myself another glass of red wine. Whiskey miaows and shifts on my lap, settling down as I sit back, glass in hand. The quizmaster on the TV prattles on in the background, a backdrop to my thoughts. Cocktail hour arrives earlier by the day.