Life in the Bubble

Do you live in a bubble?  I do.  Not a prison, mind you, a bubble.  A nice, sunny, pleasantly-scented bubble.

My bubble is a beautiful suburb of San Francisco.  We don't have problems with major crimes or bad schools.  Most of the kids are high-achieving, well-educated athletes with very nice cars and passports stamped with multiple Eurozone and Caribbean entries.  There are a few foreclosures here, but not too many.  The foreclosures happen quickly and quietly.  Many of the moms stay at home with their kids, and many of the dads have high-paying jobs as stockbrokers, doctors, or software engineers.

People sometimes call our town "sleepy".  Which it is, but only on the surface.  Scratch a bit, and you'll find all kinds of juicy scandals and long-simmering resentments.  Skinny, well-dressed women approaching middle age would willingly launch surface to air missiles at a PTA meeting over something as benign as a change in the policy on lunch-time recycling.  (Hint:  you need to be in favor of recycling, at all times.)  Retirees will spend hours debating the stupidity of the city council at the local coffeehouse.  A few of them will show up at every city council meeting, outraged about something.

Stay tuned.  Life in the bubble is always interesting.