Goodbye, Madame McCaffrey

It’s the end of an era.

The world won’t be the same without the woman who taught my imagination to fly with dragons, who taught me that women could do so much more than wear miniscule costumes and wait for men to rescue them.

My heart hurts.


The Mystery of the Cool Carcharhinus

Today’s post  over at Murderati post was about unexpected questions.  Zoë Sharp asked several Murderati writers three questions and then asked the readers the same ones.

One of these was, “What’s in your refrigerator?”

I went to check, hoping for something more interesting than yogurt.  And I found it:

This is Janie’s plastic shark.

I duly reported this and a little later was asked why it was there.  I honestly didn’t know.  Neither did my husband or my MIL.

This little guy has his own house, made out of a Starbuck’s cake-ball box,* though he can usually be found in or near the bathroom sink or in the bath.  And while I’m pretty sure sharks don’t have opposable flippers, I’m certain a plastic shark of his size doesn’t have the mass to open the fridge door, supposing he could make the journey across the house by himself.

So I waited until Janie came home and asked.

“What?”  she said.  “Oh.  He’s a salmon shark.  Salmon sharks like the cold.”

Of course he does.  “So you put him on top of the spaghetti?”

‘I didn’t want him to fall in Sunny’s milk.”

Can’t argue with that.  “Hey—didn’t you tell me he was a coral reef shark in the bath last night?” **

“Oh . . . He was just visiting the reef to warm up.”

Mystery solved.


*Which are the coolest little boxes I’ve ever seen.  Go order a cake ball—Sunny likes the Rocky Road and Janie can personally recommend all of them except the Espresso ones, because I might be an indulgent mother but I’m not actually insane—and see for yourself.

**The bubbles were the coral, though there was some disappointment that it wouldn’t support the shark.