Hmm...if she comes to the Regency gathering we're planning, I could always tell Plei where we'll be and stage a "fancy meeting you here" scene...

Deena, I'd retype it in a heartbeat, but actually seeing it is the problem. When I search, it tells me it exists, even what page it's going to be printed on, but there are no actual links to it.

Damn it.

Greg thinks he can bring home the library's copy on Tuesday (possibly before then) and I can retype it and send it to you, if that's convenient.

Oh, you ANGEL! Thank you, ma'am.

Oh, and watch your mail, today or possibly tomorrow: you had someone who wished to remain anonymous donate to the hurricane relief effort in your name, and there are cookies on the way.

Deb! Just want to let you know my company has set up a relief fund where they will match our contributions dollar for dollar. So, my donation is being doubled. Whee!

Oh, excellent! And I'll have espresso cookies here for you at the end of the month.

I'll have espresso cookies here for you at the end of the month.

You do realize you're encouraging me to drool on my keyboard and it's got enough crap on it already, don't you?

Nah, just something to look forward to....

[link] Picture Number Nine drabble

Detective Sullivan studied the picture they'd pulled from Ginelli's pocket as the mobster had cooled and stiffened on the sidewalk. Ginelli and a kid, both dressed fancy, like respectable people. The kid watched Ginelli, maybe thinking "I'm going to be just like him."

Sullivan told himself it was just a neighborhood kid, a "hero"-worshiping nobody. In his gut, though, he knew that somewhere a kid was about to find out that his father was dead, that he'd fallen to the cops. Somewhere a kid would look at his weeping mother, would look for his father's weapons, would join his father's cronies, and keep the whole sick wheel turning.

Connie, I love that last paragraph.