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Regular Me

The video opened to Jim’s smiling face filling the screen.

“Hey, there! Here I am, at the Miller ranch, and it finally stopped raining! Let me show you around.”

He moved the phone away from his face to show a large rustic kitchen that was a complete mess.

“Oops. Cleaning lady’s day off, I’m afraid.”

He approached two women that worked at the sturdy wooden table in the middle of the room, their backs turned to him.

“Hey, girls!”

Both women turned to him, saw he was filming and waved hi at the phone. Jim put his arm around the older one, an African-American beauty in her forties,  that shrugged Jim away when he kissed her cheek.

“Meet Deborah Golan, the supreme commander of this mess of an army,” he said. “She also works as our full-time guardian angel.”

Jim went to the other woman, a pretty girl in her late twenties, her dark hair very short over the back of her neck and almond dark eyes. “And this is dear Jo, my wa

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