Baked Eggs

as i've perused food blogs and tastespotting over the past few years, i'd see "baked eggs" pop up every now and then. it's something i've never had before or even really ever heard of before that i can recall, but the pics always looked nice. this week, jen yu at use real butter posted about baked eggs and i decided it was time to give this a try (if you've never visited jen's site, her photography is amazing, as is her food!). i totally get it now. easier than an omelet and just as versatile, but more elegant. as an added bonus, you get runny yolks! i've decided that it's the best way to eat eggs! and if you have a bunch of these little ramekins for creme brulee, they're even prettier and perfect for company (especially for a nice brunch). just ease your eggs into a buttered ramekin, gently top with whatever you want, then bake at 375 for 10-15 minutes, depending on how you like your yolks. i had some fresh parsley, fresh thyme, leftover roasted broccoli, leftover ham, a little tomato, and some cheddar (which, because of the color, keeps you from seeing the yolk in the photo). good stuff!

2011: The Year Of...

i decided earlier this year that i wanted to try pickling and use that as my blogging theme for 2011. but, even though i'm not the most consistent food blogger, that's still a lot of pickles & pickled items. so, i decided to expand the theme a bit: 2011, The Year of Scene Stealers. no, i don't mean foxy & benjamin franklin! i mean sides & starters & enders & any part of the meal that's not the entree. pickles certainly fall into that category!

Spicy Lemon Garlic Shrimp

the pioneer woman blogged about this today and i've already made it. guess i was inspired, huh? :)

and that's kind of unusual because, although i like shrimp, i rarely make it or any other seafood at home; when i eat it, it's usually at a restaurant. also, i usually don't care for shrimp or crab that i have to peal and pick and dig the meat out of as i'm eating it. but, as i said, this looked good to me today, and easy (unthawed frozen shrimp!), and--best of all--it looked like terrific bread-sopping liquid! all that butter and garlic and crushed red pepper and lemon and parsley and shrimp juices....oh my. yes, it was terrific! the bread-sopping, that is, and the shrimp were damn good, too. candy, you should do this!

Gingerbread Popcorn

another internet recipe, this time courtesy of culinary in the desert. when i saw this gingerbread popcorn, i knew i wanted to try it and i'm glad i did! think caramel corn with gingerbread flavors, although mine came out more crystal-sugary than sticky-caramely. at any rate, perfect for christmas and may become a holiday tradition...at least as much as my not-at-all-annual winter solstice party at chez burkie :)

next time i make this, though, i will use a little less popcorn. there were a few kernels (not pictured) that didn't get appropriate coverage.

Pub Crossword Puzzle

NOTE: sorry, you can't fill it out online. you can click on the image, though, then enlarge and print it out if you really want to fill in the answers.

ACROSS

2. which character tends to rrroll her Rs?
4. what is probably burkie's friend ava's favorite watercraft?
5. who was first described as "a dark and stormy knight?"
7. what is the Lurker's preferred vehicle for time travel? (two words)
8. what animal did burkie have s.a. hepzibah dress up as in order to help him win a blogging award? (it didn't work)
11. besides danny, burkie, and maddog, who is the only other character to have prepared food in the Pub?
12. which adjective is most often applied to burkie?
13. what body part did stoney karr have three of?
16. how many ex-boyfriends with nursery rhyme names does marian have?
17. when boom-boom guestblogged, who was the busboy?
18. who is the intergalactic king of rock 'n roll? (2 words)
19. what is the subject of the Lurker's screenplay?
20. according to The Ballad of Gavin Cardigan, what is gavin's home state?

DOWN

1. which character claims to be from Stow-on-the-Wold?
3. which character's roller derby name is L.N. Rage?
6. danny serves only two beers. one is Bass; what is the other?
9. which character believes that tina fey should play her in the Poor Yorick's Pub movie?
10. which character admitted to having a crush on roger rabbit?
14. which character is most likely to do this crossword puzzle?
15. what is the most-uttered vowelless, er, utterance in the Pub?

Bacon Mushroom Tacos

another recipe from the world's cheapest cookbook, the internet! and, again, it's mushrooms! this time, the mushrooms are paired with smoky bacon, sweet onion, and flavor-absorbing potatoes, roasted in a hot oven until done, then spooned into a tortilla and topped with delicious guacamole. so easy, and so good! and sure to please a bacon 'ho or a potato 'ho (should you happen to know any...). thank you, spiteful chef, for this one!

Garlic Butter Roasted Mushrooms

this recipe comes from the cheapest cookbook of all: the internet. this is a dish that deb recently posted at smitten kitchen. they looked great, and she says the dish makes a great bread-sopping liquor, which is one of my favorite things. so, i made some roast beast and sourdough bread just to accompany the mushrooms :)

quite good at 20 minutes of cook time, definitely a quicker dish than the pioneer woman's mushrooms here requiring 9 hours of cooking! they look good, too, so one day...

Pub Word Search Puzzle

Z T A J S E L Q A Q V T F C D
T V E G U U S R S P F U K A M
A A W I R D R M F V L C C R O
M W Y K L E G R E I I K O D O
O Z E L I U A E N R A E P I B
N R G S O N J D O F E R S G M
T I E J K R A Y B E P L J A O
E Q F L H A B I Z P E H D N O
J E I K R U B D A N N Y T A B
Q N S Q R F O X Y U D L R S L
S H A K E S P E A R E I E K V
K F U O M A R I A N S L T E J
L R A E P U I K N W S Y R Q A
A N X O U G R L X F H N A B M
J U G N S L D Q N A T X D L F


AVA
BOOMBOOM
BURKIE
CARDIGAN
DANNY
DARTER
ESMERELDA
FOXY
FRANKLIN
HEPZIBAH
JUDGE
JULIET
LILY
LINDA
LURKER
MARIAN
MONTE
PEARL
RUBY
SHAKESPEARE
SIERRA
SPOCK
TAYLOR
TUCKER
YORICK

Castoffs: Poor Yorick's Cafe Americain

Narrator: With the coming of the Second World War, many eyes in imprisoned Europe turned hopefully, or desperately, toward the freedom of the Americas. Lisbon became the great embarkation point. But, not everybody could get to Lisbon directly, and so a tortuous, roundabout refugee trail sprang up - Paris to Marseilles... across the Mediterranean to Oran... then by train, or auto, or foot across the rim of Africa, to Casablanca in French Morocco. Here, the fortunate ones through money, or influence, or luck, might obtain exit visas and scurry to Lisbon; and from Lisbon, to the New World. But the others wait in Casablanca... and wait... and wait... and wait.

taylor runs into Poor Yorick's Cafe Americain and grabs cafe owner danny blake by the lapels of his white dinner jacket.

"danny, you must help me!"

"help you?" danny shook himself free. "i stick my neck out for nobody, vampire. especially vampires."

"please, danny! you must take these letters of transit and hide them for me. please, i beg you!"

taylor shoves an envelope inside blake's jacket, then turns around and runs out the door. two gunshots are heard almost immediately, and blake walks outside. he finds taylor slumped against the wall outside.

"don't worry, danny. their bullets can't kill me, but they don't know that. i'll fake my death."

with that, taylor goes totally limp. the local police come to search taylor's body and drag him away. blake walks back into the cafe.

he looks around the busy cafe, the patrons laughing and drinking and eating, unaware and unconcerned about the shooting outside. he spots tucker finishing up a song on stage and walks up to him.

"tucker, hang onto your guitar," he whispers to the entertainer as he surreptitiously slips the envelope into the hole in the guitar's body.

"you got it, boss."

he walks away and hears tucker begin an interactive sing-along with the crowd:

say, who's got trouble?
(we got trouble!)
how much trouble?
(too much trouble!)...

at that moment, the cafe door opens and captain gavin cardigan of the local police enters.

"danny, what's for dinner tonight?"

"paella."

"danny, you have the best food in casablanca. it's why i come here every night."

"i thought it was because i let you win at roulete," danny reminds him.

"that is another reason. i'll take my paella after i run everybody out and search your place for taylor's letters of transit."

"what letters of transit?"

"don't insult my intelligence, danny. i saw taylor talking to you. remember, major rhaymes of the gestapo is in casablanca. i need to demonstrate that law and order reign in unoccupied france."

"but you have no grounds on which to close my place!" danny fumes.

cardigan raises his voice. "i am shocked, shocked to find that gambling is going on here! everyone out, now! this cafe is closed under orders of the prefect of police."

later, the two of them share a bottle of wine and a dish of paella.

"are you satisfied?" danny asks, referring to the fruitless search.

"danny, i'm sure you have those letters."

"i stick my neck out for nobody," danny insists.

"my dear danny, i suspect that under that cynical shell you are at heart a sentimentalist. and that brings us to our next order of business."

"what is that?"

"tomorrow you are to have two special guests in your cafe, arriving separately. one will be major rhaymes of the gestapo."

"that's business i can afford to lose," danny comments. "why can't he go patronize signor st. bishop over at The Blue Parrot?"

"because he will want to see me arrest your other special guest: benjamin franklin."

"benjamin franklin?" danny sits up straight at the mention of the great underground resistance leader.

"danny," cardigan notes, "that's the first time i've ever seen you so impressed."

"well, benjamin franklin has managed to impress half the world," danny points out.

"it's my job to see that he doesn't impress the other half and remain in custody here in casablanca."

"i'll be interested to see how he escapes," danny chuckles.


the next evening, major rhaymes strides stiffly into the cafe and demands the best table and brandy. he gets neither, but he can't tell the difference.

a short time later, while danny is in the kitchen checking the sauce, benjamin franklin enters the cafe accompanied by a Mysterious woman with dark red hair. they are seated near the stage.

"tucker!" the woman exclaims as they draw near.

"oh, uh, good evening, miss Lurker," tucker stammers.

"it's been a long time, tucker."

"yes, ma'am. a lot of water under the bridge."

"where is danny, tucker? is he here?"

"oh, uh, no. no ma'am, he usually goes to The Blue Parrot at night. he's got a girl over there named sierra that he goes to see."

she tut-tuts him. "you used to be a better liar, tucker." she places a hand on his arm. "play one of the old songs, tucker. play 'as time goes by.'"

"i don't remember it, miss Lurker, please."

she smiles. "yes, you do. play it, tucker. for old time's sake."

"yes, miss Lurker."

you must remember this
a kiss is just a kiss
a sigh is just a sigh
the fundamental things apply
as time goes by

and when two lovers woo--

"tucker, i thought i told you never to play that song again!"

"yes, boss." tucker quickly packs his guitar away and exits as danny stares at the Mysterious Lurker.

"Lurker, do you know this man?" benjamin franklin asks her.

"yes, ben. danny, this is benjamin franklin. ben, this is danny blake. we...knew each other in paris, before the occupation."

benjamin franklin extended a hand. "one hears a great deal about danny blake in casablanca."

"and about benjamin franklin everywhere," danny counters.

"so, how are you, danny?" the Lurker asks.

"i'm still in one piece," danny replies.

"the last time i saw you was--"

"la belle aurore."

the Lurker smiles. "how nice, you remember. but of course, that was the day that the germans marched into paris."

"not an easy day to forget."

"no."

"i remember every detail," danny says. "the germans wore grey; your hair was blue."

"i hate to interrupt this happy reunion," captain cardigan walks up unexpectedly with major rhaymes. "but i'm afraid i must ask mr. franklin to accompany me."

"is that an order?" franklin demands.

"let's call it a request."

franklin turns toward the Lurker. "don't worry, Lurker. i'll be okay."

the three man walk off, leaving the Lurker alone with danny.

"of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, you walk into mine. why?"

"i'm sorry, danny. if i had known, we would not have come here."

"why did you leave me in paris? you were there one moment, then gone the next!"

"danny, i...i'm married to benjamin franklin, and i was when i knew you in paris."

"i see." danny lights a cigarette. "so you're that kind."

"you don't understand, danny. i thought he was dead! it was only that day, the day that the germans marched into paris, that i got word that he was alive. he needed me, danny. i had to go to him!"

"i needed you, too, Lurker. you kicked my insides out."

"oh, danny! this war...i hate it so much...and now, ben is in so much trouble here, danny. the germans will not allow him to leave casablanca, but neither can they allow him to build influence here, either. you must help him!"

"how am i supposed to help him?"

"i've heard that letters of transit can be bought on the black market here in casablanca. you must know how to get one, danny. with that, ben can leave casablanca and be safe."

"ben? what about you?"

"danny," she steps up and wraps her arms around him, laying her head on his shoulder. "i left you once in paris; i can't leave you again."

"i see. and you think ben will agree to leaving you behind?"

"i think...oh, danny. i don't know what to think anymore. you'll have to do the thinking for both of us."

"i will, Lurker. i will." he strokes her blond hair and tilts her face upward. "here's looking at you, kid."


the next day, danny goes to see benjamin franklin at the prefect's office.

"why are you here?" franklin asks.

danny lights up a cigarette. "i have two letters of transit. with them, you and the Lurker can leave casablanca for america."

"is that right? hey, don't bogart that cig. i haven't had one all day!"

he takes a drag on danny's cigarette, exhales. "there is something here i don't understand. when i saw you and the Lurker last night, i knew there was something special between you."

"there was," ben admits. "after they took you away last night, she pretended to still be in love with me, in order to convince me to help you escape. i let her pretend."

"then perhaps i do understand. the problem with your plan is that i seem to be in custody."

"easily remedied."

danny turns around and points a gun at captain cardigan. "gavin, call the airport and tell them to get a plane ready for lisbon."

"danny, you have you taken leave of your senses?"

"i have, now make that call."

"you have the letters of transit. where were they hidden?"

"in tucker's guitar. now make that call, gavin."

"hmph. serves me right for not being musical. okay, okay, i'm calling."

cardigan dials a phone ((note to readers: "dial" is an archaic verb, used to rotate a disc with numbered holes to a designated spot in order to make one telephone make a connection with another telephone. unbeknownst to danny and benjamin franklin, cardigan was actually dialing the number of major rhaymes, who asnwered.)) and begins to speak. "airport? yes, this is captain cardigan. please have a plane ready for take-off to lisbon for two passengers with letters of transit. there is to be no trouble about them. good."

they climb into cardigan's car and make for the airport. they pull up next to the raven-haired Lurker who is, um, lurking on the runway. "danny, ben. is everything all right?"

"everything is fine, Lurker," danny assures her. "now, cardigan. i want you to fill out the names on the letters of transit, to make it more official."

"you think of everything, don't you, danny?"

"and the names you will write are 'Mr. and Mrs. Benjamin Franklin."

"danny, no!" the Lurker grabs his arm. "last night you said--"

"last night we said a lot of things," danny tells her. "you told me i had to do the thinking for both of us. well, i've done a lot of it since then and it all adds up to one thing: you're getting on the plane with ben where you belong."

"no, danny! i..."

"no, you listen to me! if you stay here, nine chances out of ten are that we'd both end up in a concentration camp. isn't that right, gavin?"

"i'm afraid that major rhaymes would insist upon it, danny."

"you're only saying this to make me go," the Lurker accuses him.

"i'm saying it because it's true. inside of us, we both know you belong with ben; you're part of his work, the thing that keeps him going. if that plane leaves the ground and you're not with him, you'll regret it. maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but soon and for the rest of your life.

"but what about us?"

"we'll always have paris. we didn't have, we'd lost it, until you came to casablanca. we got it back last night."

"when i said i'd never leave you," she recalls.

"and you never will," he tells her. "but i've got a job to do, too. where i'm going, you can't follow. what i've got to do, you can't be any part of. i'm no good at being noble, but it doesn't take much to see that the problems of three little people don't amount to a hill of beans in this crazy world. someday you'll understand that. now, now..."

the Lurker's eyes fill with tears as he lifts her chin up. "here's looking at you, kid."

benjamin franklin walks up to shake danny's hand. "welcome back to the fight."

ben and the Lurker take the letters of transit and board the plane. as the plane begins to pull out, major rhaymes pulls up. "what is going on here?"

cardigan points. "benjamin franklin is on that plane."

"stop it!" the major demands.

"i can't," cardigan then points toward danny.

"then i will!" major rhaymes stalks off toward the telephone.

"don't do it, major. i was willing to shoot cardigan; i'm definitely willing to shoot you."

"i don't think so!" major rhaymes suddenly pulls out a dart gun from under his cape and blows a dart at danny. danny, however, was standing 15 feet away at that moment, well out of the range of the major's weapon. unfortunately for the major, danny's gun was deadly accurate from that range and he fell to his death. guards came rushing up at the sound of the gunshot.

"mon capitaine!"

"major rhaymes has been shot!" cardigan glances at cardigan, then back to the guards. "round up the usual suspects."

"oui, mon capitaine!"

as the plane roars off into the horizon and the guards drive off with rhaymes' body, cardigan and danny walk down the runway, each smoking a cigarette.

"danny, you're not only a sentamentalist, you're now a patriot."

"i figured it was time."

"i think you're right. you know, i think you should leave casablanca for a time. i can arrange passage for us to san francisco in america."

"us?"

cardigan nods.

"gavin," danny tells him, "i think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship."

Plodding Periously

Dear Readers,
I, the nefarious Professor Poopypants, have hacked into Burkie's blog and changed the names of all the characters in this chapter, bhah ha ha!!! Now, on to the story!


fluffy gigglechunks walked into Doofus Gorillabutt's Pub, shaking off the cold.

"hey, be careful with that stuff! i just swept up over there!"

gigglechunks glared at the Pubkeeper, gidget toilettush. "it's a figure of speech, gidget! now, what's on the menu?
Hi! This is the Mysterious Lurker and you've discovered the hidden contest!
"fluffy gerbilhiney's chicken," gidget told him as he handed him an ale.
Just send Burkie an email at burkie47 (@) gmail (dot) com and tell him
"really? you know that's not authentic chinese food, right? aren't you worried about losing credibility with lumpy's readers?"
who your favorite character is. include your mailing address and you will
"trust me, gigglechunks. when it tastes this good, nobody cares about authenticity."
receive a personalized post card from that character. Of course, it will probably be me,
gigglechunks raised his glass to gidget, then walked back to join his friends.
but it's okay if you want to hear from somebody else. even Dat. i guess.
"fluffy! come look!" pinky girdlechunks called him over.
Happy holidays from all of us!
"what's up, chuck?"

"er, my name isn't chuck. it's pinky." she placed the back of her hand against his forehead. "are you feeling well?"

he sighed. "it's a figure of speech, pinky. what am i supposed to be looking at?"

"i'm hosting a charity auction for the holidays," snotty gigglefanny told him, pointing at a flyer. "do you have anything you'd like to donate?"

"what's everyone else donating?"

"i'm donating an antique transylvanian walking stick, with a silver wolf's head on the handle," falafel gorillapants said.

"i knitted a scarf with matching gloves and beret," pinky told him.

"i'm offering dinner for ten," gidget noted as he delivered gigglechunks' food.

"everyone is being very generous," snotty pointed out as her chopsticks snagged a hunk of chicken from gigglechunks' plate.

"well, i'm not donating this," gigglechunks hmph'd as he moved his plate beyond snotty's reach.

"you should offer yourself up for a night on the town with a lucky lady," Pinky Liverbuns suggested as she appeared out of nowhere.

"what, like a bachelor auction?" gigglechunks considered as he chewed. "i don't know about that."

"i think it's a great idea," snotty approved. "you're quite the catch, you know. tall and broad-shouldered, but not so broad-shouldered that it makes your head seem disproportionate to the rest of your body. plus, you're a private detective; that's sexy."

"well, thank you for noticing, gigglefanny," gigglechunks winked. "i do cut a dashing figure at that."

"be careful with the cutting, mate," falafel told him, pointing at a Twilight band-aid on his own finger.

gigglechunks groaned. "it's a figure of speech, falafel."

"so you'll do it?" pinky asked. "you'd finally get a date this way, you know."

"pretty sad that i have to sell myself to get a date. don't they have a word for people like that?"

"charitable?"

"not quite the word i had in mind."

"if you have need of a word, friend gigglechunks, perhaps i could be of assistance," oprah pizzatush offered as he came forward to collect dirty dishes.

"that won't be necessary, pizzatush. i'll go ahead and do it." he drained his glass and set it down with a thud. "damn the torpedoes!"

"damn thee, torpedoes! damn thee and thy damnable--"

"it's a figure of speech, pizzatush," gigglechunks sighed.

Turkey & Dumplings

i'm not really a turkey guy. i'll eat it but, for me, turkey is a side dish at thanksgiving and dressing is the real star of the table. and the pecan pie. the turkeys were really cheap this year, though, so i bought a big one (21 lbs). it came out good, but then i had this huge carcass with plenty of meat still hanging to it that i was too lazy to bother with. so, i hacked it all up and put the carcass pieces into two stock pots and made a rick turkey broth with it. i also was able to pull plenty of meat off the bones (after they cooled) to add to the broth so i could make turkey & dumplings from Emeril's TV Dinners. this was a cheap cookbook because maddog gave it to me (i think she wound up with 2 in her possession, for some reason). i made two adjustments to emeril's recipe. first, obviously, i used turkey instead of chicken. the big alteration is that his recipe is called spicy chicken & dumplings because he adds jalepeno to the dumplings. i don't think this dish needs to be kicked up notches untold, so i left them out. what i like about this recipe is that you take some of the boiled aromatics (onions, celery, carrot) out of the pot after they become soft, mash them up, and add that to the dumpling dough (along with emeril's jalepenos, if you wish). oh, this is so good. a bit of work, yes, but so good. far better than the turkey on thanksgiving.

Snapshots: Academic Pursuits!

she was oblivious to the palpable thumping of every male heart in the ballroom as she strode across the floor.

"dr. charles! you look absolutely divine!"

foxy smiled at the dean of the anthropology department. "dr. dean, you're too kind. and the ballroom looks lovely! i'm so glad that we're hosting the annual conference this year. it's good publicity for the department and the school."

"dr. dean!"

the new voice was low, deep, and self-assured, and foxy found herself turning toward it the way a cobra obeys a snake charmer's flute.

"brett, my boy!" dr. dean reached out to embrace a tall young man with wavy, jet-black hair, steely grey eyes, and a noticeable scar running jaggedly from the outside corner of his left eye down toward the ear lobe. the scar enhanced rather than detracted from his primitive good looks; the broad shoulders and lean hips didn't hurt matters, either.

"dr. charles, allow me to introduce dr. brett cobalt. brett accompanied me to Papua New Guinea five years ago to help me study the wedding rituals of the aboriginal tribes there."

"enchanté," dr. cobalt bent to kiss foxy's hand but his eyes never left hers. "your work on immigrant influences on american culture is both fascinating and unprecedented."

despite being caught off-guard and more than a little breathless, foxy managed a winning smile and comeback. "but nowhere near as exciting as your recent research on the impact that illegal drug trading is having on south american farmers. very dangerous work, indeed!"

dr. cobalt ran a finger down his scar. "well, it certainly has its moments." he held out his hand. "shall we dance?"

"oh, we shall. we certainly shall!"

foxy's feet were as light as the butterflies in her stomach as the dashing dr. cobalt twirled her across the dance floor. she sensed the raw heat and strength that his body could barely contain. he was a man of action, yet also a distinguished scholar in her own field. he was her intellectual equal, but his physicality had no rival.

when the song ended, he noted, "you dance beautifully, dr. charles. would you join me for a glass of champagne?"

"i'd be delighted, dr. cobalt."

her knees weakened slightly as his hand gave hers a squeeze. she found a wall to lean against and compose herself while he walked off to find champagne. she smiled when he appeared again in front of her, a fluted glass of golden bubbles in each hand, when suddenly her arms were wrenched behind her!

"buenas noches, señor cobalt," a sinister voice behind her said.

cobalt's face hardened and his eyes gleamed like sharpened flint. foxy could sense the untamed animal inside him overtaking his scholarly veneer.

"let her go, carlos."

"why should i?" the sinister voice retorted. "your research exposed a very profitable operation for my family and caused my brother to be killed." foxy felt something cold against her face. "how is it you americans say? 'revenge is served with cold cuts?'"

foxy shook her head. "no, carlos. it's 'revenge is a dish best served cold.' it's very common for people who learn english as a second language to--"

"stop it! cierra la boca!"

cobalt took that moment to throw the champagne flutes at the sinister carlos, who took the bubbly full in the face as foxy, anticipating cobalt's move, threw herself to the side. cobalt rushed forward to grapple with the villain. they rolled back and forth across the floor, writhing and growling in a tangle of taught tendons and bloody, exposed flesh as each man had a hand on the knife and used it against the other alternatively. suddenly, carlos grinned and, releasing the knife, reached behind his back.

foxy screamed, "brett! he's got a gun!"

she saw the knife thrust down toward carlos' throat as the gun went off.

"NOOOOOOOOOOO!"

she rushed forward and knelt beside cobalt, rolling him off of the lifeless carlos.

"no, please...." the red froth at cobalt's mouth matched that at the wound in his chest, and she knew there was nothing anybody could do.

his flinty eyes softened as he looked into her face. he brought his fingers up to her lips. she kissed them gently and he brought them back down to his own lips as the light faded from his eyes and his chest stopped moving.

dr. dean dropped down and placed a comforting arm around her shoulder. "are you okay, dr. charles?"

she nodded. "i am unharmed, dr. dean. but poor brett..."

the dean nodded. "yes, a tragedy in every sense of the word. a brilliant mind who quite literally gave his life in pursuit of greater understanding. he's an example for all of us to follow, young and old. come, let us let the authorities tend to their duties."

"let me in. i'm a doctor!" a woman with a black medical bag knelt down opposite foxy and placed her fingers against cobalt's neck. "he's still alive. here, place this over the wound!"

foxy applied the plastic sheet to the gaping chest wound and held it in place while the doctor attached strips of tape to three sides of the patch, leaving the fourth side to open.

"that's to let the bad air out, but it won't allow any bad air in," the doctor informed her. sure enough, she saw the open side flap open as cobalt exhaled, and flatten against his skin as he inhaled again.

"is he going to live?"

the doctor rolled him over on his side. "yes, i think he will. he's strong and we got to it pretty fast. now, clear the way for the paramedics."

as foxy stood to get out of the way, she realized with a blush that she seemed to have ripped her bodice somehow...

Snapshots: Meanwhile...

she woke with a shudder, hoping the wail of terror she had let out in her nightmare did not carry over into the real world.

it didn't.

she lay still at her end of the cab, giving no sign that she was awake. the roar of the semi-truck's engine and wheels as they sped across some random state was oddly comforting, as was the deep voice of the giant truck driver singing along with the music from the speakers.

she pulled the trucker's green, woolly army blanket around her closer. she knew it was still summer, but her young body felt as if it would never be warm again.

her slight movement drew a glance from the trucker. "you okay over there, little girl?"

no, she wasn't. she'd never be okay again. but she was alive. "yes, sir."

"would you like to listen to some different music? rock, or country music?"

"no, sir. i've never heard these songs, but i like listening to you sing them."

there was a touch of tenderness in his voice as he replied, "you're older than your years, aren't you, little girl? most of those songs are older than me."

she listened to the song:

i see trees of green
red roses, too
i see 'em bloom
for me and for you
and i think to myself
what a wonderful world...

the words broke her heart and made her smile at the same time. her mother had loved flowers. the First Day of Spring was an official holiday in their family. their mother would take them out of school and they would drive around all day planting flower seeds in random places: parks, roadsides, even houses that had "For Sale" signs in the yard. donnie would play fetch with yorick while she and their mother would place the seeds in the soil and pour some water from a plastic milk jug over the soil. it was their tradition; she didn't know anybody else who did this.

she resolved then and there that she would carry on her mother's tradition every First Day of Spring, no matter where she was. this sudden decision about her future made her sit up. she had a future. this was the first time since that terrible day that she had thought about the future. it had all been about how to survive the current moment, or missing her family. she had something to look forward to, now. a purpose.

"sir, where are we?"

"missouri," he told her, then added, "and i told you not to call me 'sir."

"i'm sorry, sir." she giggled. "sorry! what do i call you, then?"

he hmph'd. "i have a niece about your age who calls me 'uncle mack.' you can call me that, if you like."

"uncle mack," she tried it out. "i like that. you look like an uncle, although i've never had an uncle before."

he glanced at her. "since we're on the subject of names, i can't really continue to call you 'little girl,' little girl. want to give me yours now?"

she shook her head. "i can't. i can't let him find me again."

"who, little girl?"

"the bad man." she shivered as she recalled his face, evil even when lying there motionless, covered in blood as she made her escape. she wished he were dead but knew he wasn't. she may be only 10 years old, but she knew that evil like that couldn't be killed. he'd come looking for her again. and for donnie. she prayed that he'd never find donnie. she knew she couldn't look for donnie because that might lead the bad man to him.

the worry lines in the trucker's forehead creased even deeper. she had captured his heart and soul when he spied her behind the truck stop cafe, crying as she held her sneakers under a water faucet, trying to scrub blood off. when he knelt down and offered to help, she threw herself into his arms and sobbed uncontrollably into his chest. he could tell that she was in trouble--bad trouble--but she wouldn't tell him what it was, nor who she was, nor where she lived. when he mentioned the police, she had screamed and tried to run away from him. he saw the pain and terror in her face and just couldn't let her run away, so he promised to take care of her and not call the police. he took her to a Wal-Mart to buy some clean clothes, then they came back to the cafe and ate pancakes. when she begged him to take her far, far away, he couldn't say no to her. he still didn't know what to do, but he would not abandon her.

"well, if you're not going to use your real name, i guess you need to pick a new one."

she perked up. "i get to pick my own name?"

he shrugged. "you'd look pretty silly being called 'little girl' when you're 50 years old, wouldn't you?"

she laughed. "yes, that would be very silly!"

"so, what's it going to be? bertha?"

"yuck, no!"

"thelma?"

"no way!"

"well, what do you want to be called?"

she put her finger to her chin, thinking hard. "this is an important decision, isn't it?"

mack nodded. "very important. you're going to hear this name for the rest of your life, so you'd better like it."

"hmmm." she thought about her promise to herself to continue her mother's tradition of planting flowers. "what about...lily?"

mack grinned and started to sing:

who's got eyes that sparkle like a lily sprinkled with dew?
lily belle.
who's got lips that's fresh as autumn rain when summer is through?
lily belle...

lily clapped her hands in delight.

Great Exhumations

"i smell a life-changing meal in my future, danny boy!" gavin cardigan said as he entered Poor Yorick's Pub.

"i don't know anybody who needs it more," danny grinned as he poured an ale. "chipotle chicken tacos will appear on your table shortly."

cardigan grunted his thanks and walked back to join his friends. "what's going on?"

"we're wondering about the ghost," sierra charles told him. "you know, what's his story."

"what ghost?"

"that ghost," marian elfman pointed over his shoulder. "sitting at the end of the bar over there."

cardigan turned around and saw the wispy image of a tall, well-built man with a lion's mane of hair and a full beard to go along with a full tankard of ale.

"did you ask the witches?" he indicated the three crones at the other table.

"not our ghost," pearl, the white-haired harridan, stated.

"we're not that kind of witches," ruby added.

"what kind of witches are you, then?" danny asked as he delivered cardigan's tacos.

"the sexy kind," esmerelda winked at him.

the ghost suddenly guffawed. "ho, ho, ho! ho, ho, ho!"

cardigan and the others exchanged glances. after determining that they didn't fit anybody else, they returned the glances to their original owners.

"you can talk?" cardigan asked the ghost in surprise.

"of course i can talk!" the ghost boomed out. "come, come and know me better, man!"

taylor's eyebrows arched and he raised his hand, attempting to snap his fingers. "damn!"

"what is it, taylor?" marian eyed him quizzically.

his fingers elicited a few more phwff sounds until finally they made a legitimate snap sound. "got it!" he exclaimed triumphantly, knocking a beer glass over.

marian made a face. "got what, taylor?"

"i know that line," he said to the spectre. "you're the ghost of christmas present!"

"ho, ho, ho, right you are, young man! right you are!"

"but, it's october," the orange-tressed Mysterious Lurker pointed out. "it's not time for you, yet. we should have a scary ghost for halloween, like lizzy borden or the olsen twins."

"we spirits of christmas do not live for only one day of the year! nay, we live the entire 365¼!"

cardigan groaned. "a vampire, a dead founding father, witches, and now a ghost who speaks in fractions. i think burkie is getting a little carried away."

"i think he's cute," linda nulo commented. "you know, for a ghost."

"he's definitely got some definition," sierra agreed.

"ho, ho, ho!" the ghost ho'd. "i owe it all to Bowflex®!"

"ghosts work out?"

"we spirits of christmas don't work out only during life but throughout eternity!"

cardigan rolled his eyes as he chased down a bite of his taco with a swig of his ale. "tucker, why don't you sing us a song and restore a little normalcy here?"

tucker strummed a guitar chord and grinned. "you got it, hoss!"

my baby casts a fetching figure
she's got a face i can't remember
she don't cook but she's a winner
she's got a little spirit in 'er

she's the ghostess with the mostest
she's the best from coast to coastest
so raise your glass and make a toastest
to my ghostess with the mostest

"ho, ho, ho!"

"woo-hoo!"

cardigan signaled danny for another ale. "when will i learn..."

Pumpkin Bread

i've been sooooooo ready for fall (it's been a brutally hot summer), and fall means pumpkin! i turned to mark bittman's How To Cook Everything and decided to try his version of pumpkin bread. it's an interesting recipe for two reasons. first, it's a generic recipe for a quick bread with slight modifications whether you're making an apple bread or banana bread or zucchini bread or pumpkin bread. secondly and more interestingly, it calls for a mixture of white all-purpose flour, whole wheat flour, and corn meal (though he says you could use all white flour). i opted for the mixed flours/corn meal version and i'm glad i did. the bread has the warm spices of cinnamon, nutmeg, ginger, and cloves, flavor & moistness from the pumpkin, and the mixed flours give it lightness and make it more of a real bread than a large, loaf-shaped muffin, which pumpkin "bread" most often resembles. i could even see toasting this. it's good! it's not as good as this, of course (as it is the best pumpkin "bread" you'll ever eat), but good!

Koolickles!

yep, koolickles. what are they? dill pickles soaked in cherry kool-aid. i found the item & recipe in alton brown's Feasting on Asphalt: The River Run, which i picked up for about $3. i had never heard of these things, but apparently they're popular in the delta region. alton was skeptical, but admitted that it worked: still tart & crisp & vinegar-y, but sweet, too, and hits the spot on a hot afternoon. he's right. these really aren't bad! they're a hit with the boys, too. i'm thinking of doing pickles for 2011...stay tuned!

Snapshots: The Skewp On Sierra's Secret Birthday Beau

Three sources close to video vixen Sierra Charles inform The Celebrity Skewp that the raven-haired temptress spent her 23rd birthday in the company of one of the stars of the ‘80s and ‘90s sitcom Growing Pains. Trouble is, each source claims it’s a different star!

“It’s Leonardo DiCaprio,” according to a long-time friend. “They met on an airplane. He was working on a crossword puzzle and asked her if she knew a 7-letter word for ‘a love affair.’ It was like love at first flight!”

A member of the crew of the video that Miss Charles is currently shooting for the band Linkin Park says otherwise. “It’s Kirk Cameron! They’ve gone down to Acapulco for cliff diving.” When reminded that the former teen heartthrob is now an evangelical minister who has been happily married for over 10 years and has six children, the crew member admitted that she may had been mistaken. “Wait...we’re talking about Kathy Griffin, right?”

Still, a family member who wished to remain anonymous insists that the starlet is stepping out with none other than Alan Thicke, who played the father on Growing Pains. “Sure, there’s an age gap (over 30 years!), but he’s very interesting. Did you know that he was once in a Fruit Of The Loom underwear commercial?”

So, one birthday but three different stories. Who is the mystery man in Sierra Charles’ life? When will she come out and tell the world who it is? It looks like pop culture’s latest D-list celebrity is going through some growing pains of her own!

Lemon Shortbread

so i had planned to make deb's peach shortbread from smitten kitchen (there is no cheaper cookbook than the internet, after all!), thinking that i had a couple of peaches. turns out that i didn't. i wasn't in the mood to go back to the store, so i found this easy shortbread recipe in How To Cook Everything and added some lemon zest to it to freshin them up. tasty, and a nice way to finish off the meal posted below. my only complaint is that they're just a little too tender & crumbly.

Carbonnade

carbonnade is a belgian dish of beef braised in beer & onions. not exactly seasonal, but the grocery store had a really good deal on blade steaks, which are suited perfectly for a braise, so i brought them home and found this carbonnade recipe from cheap cookbook How To Cook Everything by mark bittman. this is a very easy dish, cooks on the stove, and i think the fact that you cook it in beer rather than stock or wine keeps it light enough for late summer meal, and all those onions add just the right sweetness. some fresh corn, oven roasted potatoes, no-knead bread, and salad round it out. see the next post for dessert :)

Peach-Crystallized Ginger Blender Clafouti

so, today's seasonal dessert comes from cheap cookbook Cooking From The Hip by cat cora. no, i didn't forget the photo. it just doesn't photograph well. you'll have to imagine it. i had bought some peaches and was looking for something to do with them, and found this easy dessert. i loved crystallized ginger, and i like peaches + ginger, so this sounded great. so easy. slice some fresh peaches, chop some crystallized ginger and throw them into a baking dish together with some sugar. throw some eggs, milk, four, and a little more sugar into a blender and blend well. pour the batter over the peaches and bake. i had to bake it about 10 minutes longer than it said, and it's not the best looking dessert i've ever made, but it's pretty good. i've never had clafouti before. if you've never had it, it's very egg-y. think of fruit baked in a lot of crepe batter. not bad, even if it doesn't photograph well. if i make it again, though, i'm going to increase the amount of crystallized ginger.

Chomp and Circumstance

gavin cardigan walked into Poor Yorick's Pub, stood by the bar, and inhaled deeply. "i smell garlic, my friend, and i approve."

danny blake gave him a smile and poured him an ale. "lebanese-style stuffed eggplant and burkie's focaccia. you will not be disappointed."

"better bring me extra, then. thanks!"

cardigan took a sip from his pint and walked over to join his friends, pausing next to a table where three elderly women sat. "good evening, ladies."

"hello, gavin," ruby smiled at him, waving a TEAM FOXY pennant at him.

"you need hair cut," pearl told him, clutching a TEAM SIERRA pennant in her hand.

"nice shirt," esmerelda smirked.

"thank--," gavin realized he was wearing a pink shirt, glared at esmerelda, then glared at the pennants and hissed, "put those things away!"

"hey, cardigan," sierra charles greeted him.

"what's up, charles?" he took the seat next to her.

"i'm going to host the miss california pageant," sierra told him.

"co-host," taylor put in.

"co-host, huh? who's the other co-host?"

"cole king."

"cole king? i've never heard of him."

"he was on American Idol," Mysterious Lurker informed him. "he didn't win, but he was very charismatic and popular."

"and handsome," sierra added. "isn't he marian?"

"huh? oh, yeah. he's all right, i guess," mairan elfman shrugged.

"it's okay, duckie. i won't get jealous if you think another man is handsome," taylor patted her head.

that earned taylor a look for which burkie has no words.

"that's an odd name," danny commented as he delivered cardigan's meal. "cole king. it sounds like caulking."

"i think i remember reading somewhere that he changed his name or something," the Lurker noted as her hair changed from black to red.

"he changed his name to that?" cardigan said after swallowing a forkfull of eggplant and giving danny a thumb's up. "it must've been pretty bad before. marian, why don't you look it up on your laptop?"

"oh, um, i think my battery is getting low," she mumbled. "i don't want to waste it on something as silly as that. look, it's the judge!"

they turned to see judge st. bishop stride into the Pub at his usual brisk pace.

"good evening, your honor," taylor greeted him. "how's the courtroom drama these days?"

"it gets more complicated every day," the judge sighed. "no, actually, that's not true. the law never changes. people just complicate their lives more and more everyday. unnecessarily."

he reached over and stole some of cardigan's focaccia. "this smells terrific, danny. can you bring some more? thanks!"

cardigan glared at the judge and moved his plate to the other side.

"your honor, did you hear? sierra is going to co-host the miss california pageant with cole king." the Lurker informed him.

"cole king? the guy from Idol who changed his name from King Cole?"

cardigan and sierra looked at each other, then over at marian, who was red-faced and staring a little too intently at her fingernails, and started laughing.

"old king cole was a merry old soul!"

"and a merry old soul was he!"

"marian, did you really used to date him before he changed his name?" the Lurker asked her, aware that marian had a baker's dozen of ex-boyfriends with nursery rhyme names.

"he was very merry," marian muttered. "but he partied too much for my liking."

"i'm going to enjoy this job more than i thought," sierra grinned.

Snapshots: She Lurks In Mysterious Ways

"this Nigel person is fascinating," Mysterious Lurker thought approvingly as she traveled through the screenplay.

"whoa!"

the Lurker slid back behind the wall, peering carefully through the gap in the window blind as two women engaged in a knock-down, no-holds-barred fight to the death.

"that is one seriously pissed-off chick!" she whispered to herself as the victor sliced off her foe's ears before killing her. "but ears? no. it's either too graphic for a woman, or not graphic enough for a seriously pissed-off woman."

she thought about this, then made a modification to the script, nodding to herself. "much better."

"good grief!"

the Lurker shook her head as the female protagonist engaged in yet another confrontation, this time wearing a skin-tight black suit reminiscent of Catwoman.

"too hackneyed." she changed it to a smart business suit and watched for a bit, then erased her new description. she thought another minute, then her eyes lit up and she started writing again. "yellow. an homage to the master. perfect!"

she continued to skim through the script, making minor corrections here and there. she reached the end and leaned back, exhausted and mostly satisfied.

"very clever, and just the right balance of camp & violence to be thoroughly entertaining. it's just this Nigel person. so complex and fascinating, and certainly worthy of being the target of cold revenge. it's just....Nigel...that's the problem. How can somebody named Nigel be this evil?"

she stared at the heart tattoo on her arm with the name Nigel written across it. Nigel faded out to be replaced with Kevin, followed by Steve, Gilbert, Maximillian, Pierre, Gomez, Bill..."Bill," she read aloud. "Kill Bill. i like it!"

Something Liquid This Way Comes

gavin cardigan walked into Poor Yorick's Pub and hung up his jacket. "it's a fine, blustery san francisco july out there, danny boy!"

danny blake nodded from behind the bar. "aye, it is. and a great day for a Guinness and a plateful of summer squash enchiladas."

cardigan took the pint gratefully, but raised a dubious eyebrow. "summer squash enchiladas?"

"trust me. have i ever let you down? has the word enchiladas ever let you down?"

"good points."

cardigan turned to join his friends at their regular table and stopped abruptly. "where is everybody?"

danny shrugged. "they're not here yet. you're the first one tonight."

"i'm never first. everyone else is supposed to be here, and then they draw me into their ridiculous conversations." he fumed. "what do i do now?"

"gavin! come. sit!"

he turned toward the other corner of the Pub to see a white-haired elderly asian woman waving him over to where she sat, flanked by two other women of a similar age. he shrugged and approached the table. "good evening, ladies."

the dark-haired hispanic woman wearing a bright green scarf around her hair kicked a vacant chair toward him. "buenas noches, gavin. i'm esmerrrelda."

the third woman, her hair dyed an atrocious shade of red, held out her hand and smiled. "i'm ruby," she said, then nodded toward the white-haired woman, "and that's pearl."

"i'm gavin, but you seem to know that already."

pearl laughed. "we here every night, just like you!"

"really?"

esmerelda rolled her eyes. "you always go strrraight for your friends and never look at us."

"not that we mind," ruby added. "we enjoying listening to you and watching you."

"i think you and sierra make couple," pearl stated with conviction.

"i think you're sweet on foxy," ruby squeezed his other hand and winked.

esmerelda drained her beer. "i think you are a gay."

"what?!"

esmerelda shrugged. "we are okay with it. this is san frrrancisco."

"well, i'm okay with it, too, but i'm not gay," cardigan insisted.

"so you say. danny, another rrround!" esmerelda pointed at the empty glasses as danny delivered gavin's enchiladas.

"when are you going to start serving scotch like a real bartender, danny?" ruby demanded.

"when are you going to stop asking me that, ruby?"

cardigan tucked into the enchiladas. "good lord! i never knew squash could taste this good."

just then, he heard voices and footsteps at the front and he turned to see sierra charles, marian elfman, taylor young, tucker, linda nulo, Mysterious Lurker, burkie's friend ava, and sgt. tarboom "boom-boom" shakalaka walk exchange pleasantries with danny and then walk back to their regular table.

ruby waved him before he could speak up. "go, go on with your friends. we're interested in hearing what they've been up to, too."

"tell danny blake hurry with beer," pearl told cardigan as he stood up with his enchiladas.

"gavin!" marian greeted him as he took his seat. "you'll never guess where we've been!"

"to see shakespeare in the park?"

"why would we do that?" boom-boom asked, pointing at the english language's greatest dramatist talking to danny behind the bar. "he's right over there."

"we've been practicing roller derby," linda told him, wincing as she took her seat.

"roller derby? why?"

"we formed a team!" marian said. "it was the Lurker's idea."

"i was inspired by the movie Whip It!, starring ellen page," the Lurker explained. "have you seen it?"

cardigan drained his beer, signaled danny for another, and shook his head. "no, but i've seen roller derby. it's rough, but fun. the girls all have crazy names, right?"

"i'm Mel O'Drama!" marian proclaimed proudly.

"i'm L.N. Rage," linda nulo said.

"i'm Bitch Cassidy," the Lurker grinned, then tilted her head toward her apprentice, burkie's friend ava. "and ava is The Lapdance Kid."

"i'm boom-boom shakalaka," boom-boom noted.

"right, why mess with a good thing?" cardigan approved. "how about you, charles?"

sierra shook her head. "i'm not a skater. i own the team. The Sierra Cadres!"

cardigan rolled his eyes.

"and i'm training to be a roller derby announcer," taylor, um, announced. "i'm The Count."

"i guess i'm the only one here without a nickname," cardigan murmured.

"you can have a name, gavin," the Lurker told him. "we still need a coach."

"um, no thanks."

"why not?"

"i'm not coach material. how about dat? he already has a nickname."

"hmph. you're no fun."

Snapshots: Life Is Good For A Guitar Man

(E) high school was a torture

(E) he never quite fit in

(E) the jocks & the geeks & the stoners

(E) they weren't what he called friends

(A) girls were on his radar screen

(A) but they just flew on by

(E) he learned what the teachers taught him

(E) but they never taught him why

(B7) but friday nights he'd step into

(A) a whole new different world ((3 beats on the bass drum))

(E) hammer-on, hammer-on, slide and a (A) strum

uncle (E) ted's on bass and the (B7) preacher's on (E) drums

(E) playing all night with a rag-tag (A) band

(E) life is good for a (B7) guitar (E) man

(D) heyyyyyyy (A) heyyyyyy (E) hey

(D) heyyyyyyy (A) heyyyyyy (B7) hey

(E) his sister went to college

(E) his brother went to work

(E) his daddy died in combat

(E) his mama went to church

(A) but work & school were not exactly

(A) what he'd had in mind

(E) so he went out and accepted any gig that he could find

(B7) from coffee shops to weddings he could

(A) always find a stage ((3 beats on the bass drum))

(E) hammer-on, hammer-on, slide and a (A) strum

(E) tucker's in the house, every- (B7) -body (E) come

(E) going on the road, playing one-night (A) stands

(E) life is good for a (B7) guitar (E) man

(D) heyyyyyyy (A) heyyyyyy (E) hey

(D) heyyyyyyy (A) heyyyyyy (B7) hey

(E) he didn't stay in Hiltons

(E) he didn't have a bus

(E) he never signed a record deal

(E) 'cause it wasn't worth the fuss

(A) he had no health insurance

(A) nor retirement plan

(E) he never files his taxes

(E) he's an independent man

(B7) he traded his tomorrows for a

(A) lifetime of todays ((3 beats on the bass drum))

(E) hammer-on, hammer-on, slide and a (A) strum

(E) i bet you know where he's (B7) coming from

(E) from tennessee to oregon and down to (A) louzianne

(E) life is good for a (B7) guitar (E) man

(E) life's sure good for a (B7) guitar (E) man

(E) i bet you wanna be a (B7) guitar (E) man

Snapshots: A Day In The Life Of Marian Elfman

18 May XXXX

Dear Diary,

Today started wonderfully. Wee Willie surprised me by coming over early and making breakfast.

SO SWEET!!!

He was wearing pajamas and kept running up & down the stairs asking if i was still in bed because it was past 10 o'clock.

SO CUTE!!!

(I didn't have the heart to tell him that the french toast was soggy)

But, before I could choke down a second bite, my friend K called to complain about her boyfriend. He's always bossing her around and criticizing her faults, but she's always bending over backwards to please him! And then I have to listen to her complain!

SO MUCH DRAMA!!!

Then, Wee Willie and I went to his sister's house to help her get ready for her garage sale tomorrow. Their mother was there, too, and kept telling her that she shouldn't sell things from her childhood. So she would tell her mother that those things didn't mean anything to her anymore, but her mother said that still meant something to her. So she told her mother that she should buy them if she wanted them, and her mother was offended that she would make her pay, and asked me what I thought.

HOW DO I GET PULLED INTO THESE THINGS?!?!

Then, at the gas station, these biker guys were arguing about what kind of tattoo to get. one of them wanted to gets words "Junkyard Dogs" tattooed on their arms, and the other guy wanted to get drawings of a junkyard dog tattooed on their arms. And they wanted me...a complete stranger...a girl...a cellist...to decide for them.

WTF?!?!

Why can't people solve their own problems? Sometimes I feel like the Bay Area's Dear Abby! Oh, well. Tomorrow will be a better day. Thanks for listening, diary.

Sincerely,

ME

Snapshots: It Started In Memphis

the setting: memphis, tennessee. it's august, hot, and humid.

scene 1: the living room of a low-income house. a single mother with her twin children--a boy and a girl--around 10-years old. a beloved shaggy dog is lying on a bedraggled shaggy rug. there is a large box fan in the open window, creating a breeze of dubious benefit.

the girl looked up from a book she was reading. "mom, can we go somewhere different for our summer vacation next year?"

"where do you have in mind, sweety? paris? london?"

"how about the moon?" her brother chimed in good-naturedly. "or mars!"

the girl stuck her tongue out at her twin. "san francisco! look how pretty it is!"

she held up her book, showing them a double-page photo of the Golden Gate Bridge.

her mother took the book. "it's lovely, annie. but san francisco is on the other side of the country, you know."

"we can have an adventure!" the twin brother jumped up to grab another book, opening it up to a map of the united states. "look, we can go through texas and see cowboys!"

"and oil wells!" annie added.

their mother laughed. "you and your bridges and oil wells and skyscrapers! you really are going to be the greatest female engineer ever, aren't you?"

"can we take yorick with us, too?" the boy said as he rubbed the shaggy dog's belly, making him open his eyes and yawn with a light whimper.

"you woke him up! poor yorick. poor yorick!" annie laughed and reached over to pat the dog as she chanted the dog's namesake.

a car horn honked outside.

"there's maryanne and alex," their mother said. "grab your bag, donnie, and give me a hug."

the boy ran into the bedroom and came back with a small bag. "love you, mom," he said as he hurriedly hugged his mother. "bye, annie! bye, yorick!"

"bye, donnie!"

their mother followed donnie to the front door, waving at their friend maryanne michaelson and her son, alex, and watched as they drove donnie over to their house for a sleepover.


scene 2: the michaelson house, later that evening.


"honey, can you check on the boys and make sure they're okay?"

maryanne's husband george nodded and went out the back door. "boys, you doing okay out there?"

there was laughter from inside a small tent set up in the yard, flashlights shimmering dimly from inside. "we're good, dad!"

"okay, well keep the noise down a little bit, all right?"

"okay, dad!"

"they're fine," he told his wife as he came back inside. "stop worrying."

there was a knock at the door.

"who could that be?" maryanne asked her husband, who shrugged.

she looked out the front window next to the door. "it's the police!"


scene 3: memphis police department, the following day. donnie and his aunt are meeting with a police officer and a u.s. marshall.

"look, son," the police officer looked across his desk from donnie. "i know you're scared. a terrible, terrible thing has happened. we're trying to make sure that more terrible things don't happen."

"but what if annie comes back? what if she's looking for me? i have to be there for her!"

the other man--the one wearing a suit--pulled his chair over. "donnie, listen to me. the man who killed your mother kidnapped your sister. he would have taken you, too, if you had been there. he will continue to look for you."

donnie looked up at the woman next to him. "aunt brenda, i don't want to go!"

she pulled him close. "we have to, baby. we're all each other has now. both of our sisters have been taken away from us. we have to take care of each other." she looked at the man in the suit. "the marshall says he can move us anywhere in the country we want to go. we can have new names and start a whole new life. it will be an adventure. okay, donnie?"

he looked at the marshall. "my name won't be donnie craig anymore?"

the marshall shook his head. "no, son. you have to change it. how about danny? danny blake."

the boy shrugged.

"and your name will be lucy, ma'am. is that okay?"

brenda nodded, wiping her eyes. "lucy. yes, that's a fine name. isn't that a fine name, don--danny?"

"where would you like to live, danny?" the marhsall asked him.

"i don't know."

"how about florida? some place near the beach."

he raised his head. "can we go to san francisco?"

"san francisco? why there, son?"

"i...i want to see the Golden Gate Bridge." he turned to his aunt. "can we go there, aunt lucy? please?"

she looked at the marshall who nodded. "yes, danny. we can go to san francisco. just the two of us. it will be an adventure." she hugged him again.

"actually, it will be the three of you," the marshall said as he signaled one of his men. the door opened, and a shaggy dog was led into the room.

"yorick!"