Echo Court--what what

I love living on Echo Court.

And not just because of the drummer kid that can't keep a beat. Not just because of the neighbor's children that have a thousand questions waiting for you when you leave the house, including "Can I have some of whatever you're holding?"

Monday night I was making a homemade pizza for dinner, and wanted to surprise Marty with it when he got home. But my weak woman arms wouldn't let me open the jar of spaghetti sauce. Hence, my love for Echo Court. I simply walked down the street, knocked on a door, and some muscles were standing there, ready to help. Way to go, Billy. My pizza would have been sauceless without you.

I guess location, location, location really can make a difference.