A mother and youngest son, residing somewhere in Sherman Oaks:
"What's your E.T.A.?"
"E.T. what?"
"Estimated time of arrival."
"Not too late."
"Can you be more specific?"
"Not too late."
"Not too late isn't a time."
"Not too late o'clock."
I write TV movies, plays, and humor blogs. I've got two menschy sons, a wonderful French daughter-in-law, two angel grandkids, a longtime hubby, and a Royal Rescue Pup of Questionable Lineage.
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