may have ritually sacrificed under any given full moon when she owned the land were flattened under mid-winter college panic. It was a lot easier than you might think. Every professor at the school decided to punish us for daring to enjoy holiday festivities and I had missed the beginning of the homework avalanche to attend the old bat’s funeral. By the time I was caught up, my brain felt like it was made of three-day-old oatmeal and there was just no room in its crusty mush for four acres of land unless it was ocean front and full of sunshine and umbrella drinks.

     And so my life trudged on for the next year. The only real change was holiday dinner without the Queen of Mean. My sister’s creepy kid inherited her chair – a fact he gloated about on his homepage as it co...

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