Prompt: Lather, Rinse, and Repeat.

Nellie Bean struggled in Trixie's arms and said, “Want to p'yay, want to p'yay in the water with Daddy.”

Dan looked at Trixie and grimaced. “Don’t you dare laugh. I am not sure why I got this job. I never had dogs when I was growing up, and it is is your almost-twin’s dog! By rights you should be the one down here bathing Yorick.”

Trixie cheerfully responded. “But I am not the one that agreed to dog-sit while they are visiting in Arizona, or that took that pup tramping around in the preserve and gave her the chance to find a nice little baby to take care of and play with.

How many times have you bathed her so far?”

Dan shrugged. “I think about four times. Lather, rinse, and repeat. Etcetera, Etcetera, Etcetera. Now that you have gotten back from the store, I can bathe her in the tomato juice and maybe she will finally stop smelling quite so much like skunk.”

Trixie laughed. “It really is too bad that Mart isn’t here. I would have loved to have seen him trying to get Yorick to drop the skunk kit before the real mama showed up. I swear, it really looked like Yorick thought she finally had a puppy to take care of.

Blackbird

Aug 15, 2014:  The August 15th writing prompt involved the top ten Beatles songs.   I am making no profit from the partial use of this song, nor from the use of the characters from the Trixie Belden series.  And many thanks to Vivian and Chey for the editing help.  However, I played with the story after their edits, so any errors are and always will be my own.  Also thanks to the writers of NCIS from whom I borrowed the pivotal plot point.

♩♩♬♬♩  Blackbird singing in the dead of night

The small individual moved with sneaky grace and was dressed much like a black bear.  No,  a bear is too husky.  A leopard maybe?  No.  The black costume made her look like a small blackbird, from the the light-weight dark stocking cap covering her bouncy blond curls, to the black rock climbing slippers on her feet.

There. There is a chittering whistle.  Odd,  the only whistles usually heard in these parts are the sound of a bobwhite quail.  But bobwhites don’t whistle in the dead of night.  Well, not unless they are human and not unless someone is in trouble.
 

But again, this is a chittering whistle.  Less about calling for help, and more about saying, ‘I am here and I am okay.’

♩♩♬♬♩ Take these broken wings and learn to fly

Quietly and more surefooted than her almost twin would expect of the former yellow-daffodil, she climbed up the rain spout to the second floor balcony and peered in the open window.  Most blackbirds would wonder why the window was open.  But with the recent power outage working in her favor, she knew the window was open to gather as much sweet cool air into the apartment as was possible from the hot sultry night.

♩♩♬♬♩ All your life, You were only waiting for this moment to arise

Suddenly, lightning flashed, and the blackbird huddled against the coarse brick of the building and paused to count the seconds while she listened for the boom of thunder.  It would help to have an idea of how far away the storm was. That way, she could better gauge the amount of time that would be available to search the apartment before the tenant rushed in to close the window against the coming storm.

♩♩♬♬♩ Blackbird singing in the dead of night

An explosive boom of thunder filled the night. The blackbird whistled again to her compatriot, this time to warn of her impending entry to the apartment.  It was his job to keep the tenant occupied as long as possible.

♩♩♬♬♩ Take these sunken eyes and learn to see

The blackbird cautiously spilled over the windowsill and, using a thin beam from a pencil flashlight, she began her search for the treasure.  The electricity was off, so there was no point in checking the computer, but she knew that her prey was more inclined toward the old fashioned methods of pencil and paper.  She only hoped to find some remnant of evidence which would prove that her almost twin had a new occupation as ghost author of the Cosmo McNaught series for boys.

♩♩♬♬♩ All your life, You were only waiting for this moment to be free

She looked for almost twenty minutes and was beginning to panic that she would be discovered before her search was completed.  As she rummaged in the trash can for any scraps of paper, she realized that she was looking at a stream of used typewriter ribbon.  She remembered that she had seen several boxes of replacement spools in one of the desk drawers.  Her hand stilled on the black tape.  She had seen the manual typewriter, but had thought that it was little more than an old machine, sort of like a piece of bulky art.  But, if it was only an antique, why on earth would Mart have several boxes of new printwheels in the desk drawer and a used one in the trash?  She decided to take the used tape out of the trash and replace it with a fresh spool from the desk drawer.  If she worked carefully, she could make the new ribbon look like it had been used and thrown in the trash.  As she placed the spent cartridge and extra packaging in an evidence bag to take home to examine, she moved towards the window. 

♩♩♬♬♩ Black bird fly, Black bird fly,  Into the light of the dark black night

After climbing back onto the balcony, she released another chittering whistle as an all clear and slid down the gutter spout.  She considered the best way to leverage the evidence in her hands as she took off into the light of the dark black night.

Distaff Side. (Trixie age 21)

The August 15th, 2014 writing prompt involved the top ten Beatles songs. Although Help was not in the top ten list, it was a good venue to continue the Reflections snippet. I am making no profit from the partial use of this song, nor from the use of the characters from the Trixie Belden series. And many thanks to Vivian and Chey for the editing help. However, I played with the story after their edits, so any errors are and always will be my own. (This was originally posted on Jix in August 2014. However, when it was transferred to the blog, it was tagged as a draft instead of an actual post.)

♬Help, I need somebody

“Why are you here?”

“I was in an abusive relationship.  My boyfriend, well he ...”

“Does your boyfriend hurt you?

“What?  No!  Well not physically.  And he isn’t my boyfriend. Not any more.  We broke up.

♬When I was younger, so much younger than today

“Well, I broke up with him.

“We had basically been together since I was thirteen and he was turning fifteen.  We met when he ran away from his abusive stepfather, a year or so after his mom died.

♬I never needed anybodys help in any way

“I thought he was the most wonderful boy in the world.  He was so smart that he had already earned a college scholarship when he was just fourteen. He could ride horses, and hunt and shoot.  When he was a runaway, he even hooked up an outdoor shower to help him keep clean.
 
“Then, he was adopted by my best friend’s parents.  They gave him a nice home, managed the money his great uncle left him so it would be there when he grew up and they kept him safe and loved. We kinda grew up together after all that. 

♬But now these days are gone, I’m not so self-assured

“I, well both of us really, were too young to realize how his past affected his life.

"He had already lost first his Dad and then his Mom.  And even though he had a new sister and  adoptive parents, he was still so afraid of something else happening that would take the good things away.  So I gave him a lot of latitude when he got over protective.”

♬Now I find, I’ve changed my mind and opened up the doors.

“When did you break up?”

“A couple of months ago, back in January.

"Whoa, I hadn’t realized that it has been seven months.

 "I broke up with him because not only was he over-protective, but he was arrogant, patronizing, and mostly because he didn’t seem to trust me, even though I never gave him any reason not to.
 

"I looked up the signs of domestic violence because of a class I was taking. When I did, I realized that he showed more than half the indicators of an abuser.

♬And now my life has changed in oh so many ways

“So what have you been doing in the last seven months?”

“I am in my third year of college and I am working as a security guard to supplement my scholarships.”

“So you’re about 21?”

Trixie nodded.

“And you haven’t been dating since the breakup?  Is there any particular reason for that?”

“No, I haven’t dated.  I have had coffee with a couple of guys from my classes, but nothing seemed to click, you know? 

"And maybe...”

“Maybe what?”

“Maybe I am afraid of getting involved all over again with another controlling guy? I don't know.”

♬Help me if you can, I’m feeling down

“Tell me about the other men in your life. Your father, brothers, peers;  are any of them controlling?”

“You have to understand my family before I answer that.  I am the third of four children and the only girl.  My parents both grew up in an age where gender roles were very defined.  Women did household chores, and men did outside chores.

“My parents made my older brothers responsible for me, the way they made me responsible for my youngest brother, Bobby, who just turned 15.  My oldest brother, Brian, is twenty-four and a little over two years older than me. But, since he skipped a year of school, he is three years ahead of me academically.  Then there is my brother Mart.  He is twenty-two and only eleven months older than me, so my family has always joked about us being twins for the thirty-one days between my birthday on the first of May and his  birthday on the first of June.
 
“My parents had the typical double standard of giving my older brothers more privileges because they were boys, than they gave me at the same age.

"I admit, that when I was younger, I made my share of irresponsible decisions, and that I often times rushed headlong into some dangerous situations.  But isn’t part of growing up learning to know the difference between good and bad choices?

"Now my family,  well maybe not so much my brothers but my parents anyway, have gradually started treating me like a responsible adult able to make my own decisions.  I do know they worry, but they are mostly supportive of my career goals.
 "I really think that the parental and sibling rules that I lived with when I was growing up, really affected my self esteem. I think that is why I had such a hard time recognizing the controlling way that Jim treated me.  It wasn't that far off from the way that my family treated me as a teenager.  But, Jim kept on treating me like he thought I was still 13 years old.

“I am in college.  I’m studying Criminal Justice.  I’m in self-defense classes, and I have gotten all of my certifications to legally carry a weapon, a police baton and pepper-spray for my job.  I have learned to be more cautious.  But the training I am receiving will also help me handle dangerous situations that I might encounter when I become a licensed private investigator in a few more years.”

♬Help me, get my feet back on the ground, Won't you please, please help me

“Ok.  You have told me about your father, your brothers, and Jim.  Are there any other men in your life?  Are they controlling?”

“Well,  there is one other guy.  Dan. He isn't controlling at all.    

“I have known him almost as long as I have known Jim. 

"You know, Jim and Dan had some similarities in their background.  They both lost their parents when they were twelve or so.  They both had to survive by their own wits for a time before each of their lives were turned around by new family situations.  But they each adjusted to those challenges in such different ways.  

“After Jim's Dad died, he thought he should be responsible for his mother. But she remarried and then she died. His stepfather was abusive. Jim kept trying to get away, but every time he did, he was dragged back and beaten some more and forced to work on the farm. After he finally did get away, even though he accepted the adoption and his new family, I think, for a while, he accepted it as the lesser of two evils.  Once he began to feel comfortable with his new family, he believed that the only option for his security was to do every thing he could to keep everybody happy and safe.  

“Dan had no control over his parents deaths, either.  He had an abusive stepfather too, but because he didn't think the police or child protective services would believe him about his stepfather, he managed to get away by joining a gang and living on the streets. 

"It wasn’t the best decision, but, he did his best to limit his involvement in the gang as much as possible. He did just enough to be able to get something to eat and have some place to sleep. 

  

"Then he got lucky and fell into a situation that helped him get out of the gang and get a new guardian as well as finding an uncle.  While it took some time for him to settle in with his new guardian, once he did, he was happy.  He knew he was safe and in control of the choice to go forward or to go back.

“Dan is so different from Jim.  He is supportive and he trusts me and it feels like he is always there for me. He makes me laugh.  He makes me happy.  He is on the Sleepyside police force, and he really encourages me in my classes and my training.  He makes me feel smart and cared about.  And sometimes…”

“Sometimes…?”

♬Help me if you can, I'm feeling down

♬And I do appreciate you being 'round

♬Help me get my feet back on the ground

♬Won't you please, please help me

“Sometimes, it feels like there could be more.”

Scales

I recently polled the participants at Jix about whether the men in our Sleepyside lives have hairy chests or not.

One response was along the lines of, “...Mr. Lytell,..really don’t want to go there.”, which resulted in “I think Mr. Lytell was really an alien, so my guess is that he has scales, not hair.”

So without further prompting, I had the following bit of inspiration.

Trixie was watching the various dust motes dance in the hot air stirred about by the air of the ceiling fan.  With a sigh, she acknowledged to herself that the dusting would not be successful until she turned off the fan and vacuumed the accumulating dust off the blades.  As  she turned to get the vacuum out of the broom closet, she glanced out the front window.

Suddenly one of the Lynch twins burst into view, turning from Glen Road into the Belden driveway and running like his very life depended on getting away from the monster chasing him. He didn't even stop to knock, he just burst through the front door and dove behind the sofa.

Trixie stood and watched for a minute before kneeling on the sofa cushions and leaning over the back of the sofa.   She saw one of Diana’s younger twin brothers and finally identified him as Larry due to the adherent earlobes on the side of his head.  She continued to watch as he lay on the floor trying to catch his breath.  

Larry finally looked up and asked, "Where is Bobby? Is he here? I have something mega-awesome to tell him."

Just as she was about to answer, Bobby walked into the living-room. "Trixie? I thought I saw Larry running this way. Did he not come into the house?"

Trixie just directed Bobby's attention to the sofa. Larry stuck his head out, and with eyes full of terror he said, "Bobby! You were right about Mr. Lytell! I was just in the woods behind his store. It looked like Belle had been injured on her fore-leg somehow. Anyway, Mr. Lytell took off his shirt to use as a bandage on her leg.

"Bobby! He doesn't have skin, he has scales!

Bobby, hooted!  “See, I told you he was an alien!”

Trixie burst out with nervous laughter. “Scales?  Alien? Mr. Lytell?  What are you two running on about.” Bobby and Larry both began talking at once.  

Bobby said, “Trixie,  he has to be an alien.  The movies make it seem like aliens will be strong giant bullies able to bend us to their will.  But the internet says that aliens aren’t likely to be some super human mega strong race.  That as a scientifically advanced culture,with the technological proficiency to be space explorers there won’t be any need for brute strength.”

Larry interrupted, “Yeah, because of their brains making them smart, they don’t need muscles to beat us.  And they probably don’t eat meat either because they don’t need the protein.  Have you ever seen Mr. Lytell eat meat at any of the Thanksgiving Open-Houses?

Trixie fell down on the sofa, laughing so hard that she started crying.  “You dweebs have been watching way to many sci-fi movies.  If you can’t come up with anything better than to talk crazy like that, then I am sure Moms has some chores that you can do to get your minds out of the clouds”  Trixie stopped and cackled with laughter again.  

Later that evening, Trixie knocked firmly on the door to her father’s Den.  “Daddy, can I talk to you a minute?”

“Sure Princess, what’s up?”

“Daddy,  I think it is time that you have a talk with Bobby. He has popped to the idea that Mr. Lytell is an alien.”

Peter Belden sat up in surprise.  “Does he know anything else?

Trixie rolled her eyes.  “No.  He is mostly comparing movie fiction to real life and making wild accusations.  Still,  it is getting more and more difficult to hide the truth from Bobby and Mart.

“If we don’t watch out, Bobby is liable to figure out even before Mr. Lytell, that all that strawberry pop is the Brides price that you are being paid to marry me off to the Great Pubah of Pubahtosis so we can accomplish an alliance between our two worlds.”

Aug 7, 2014: Character traits and/or character flaws. Xerothermic

The latest venture of the Bobwhites of the Glen, involved raising money for the Sleepyside Fire Department by holding a bachelor auction. Since the fire department was rather sparsely populated when it came to unmarried firemen they had convinced the two, still unmarried, male Bobwhites to help fill the roster.

Diana and Honey were sitting in a quiet secluded alcove the Sleepyside Library enjoying the cool air-conditioning on a hot summer day. They were reviewing the photographs that had been taken to advertise the auction.  Suddenly, Diana drew her in her breath in a sharp gasp of surprise and then poked Honey in the ribs.

“Day__yum!  You know that old saying about, ‘just cause you have made your selection doesn’t mean that you can’t still look at the menu?'  We each have very handsome and loving husbands.  But look at this picture of Dan.”

Diana handed Honey a photograph of their friend, Dan Mangan.  Dan was posed with his body facing left and his right leg resting on the seat of an old wooden sweet-heart backed chair.  He had on black leather western boots embossed with rhinestones whose flash could have rivaled costly diamonds.  He was wearing tuxedo pants and the bend of Dan’s leg emphasized the satin sheen of the long black ribbon that traveled the length of the leg from waist to cuff.  His left arm was resting on his upraised leg,  just partially blocking the view of his magnificently glowing, hairless torso.  The final touch was the tuxedo tie that was draped negligently around his neck.

Diana finally exhaled her in-drawn breath.  “He is positively xerothermic looking.”

Honey shook her head in confusion. “Zero whatsis?”

“Zerothermic.  It means hot and dry.”

Honey gave Diana a sly glance and expelled a breathy, gleeful laugh. “Ok.  Now I know you have been around Mart too long. I doubt that he would have much admiration for your recognition and enjoyment of his sister’s, fiance’s..." Honey finished with a whisper, "assets.  Oh thank goodness she didn’t choose Jim.  I couldn't survive being related to that.”  

Honey raised both her hands and kissed the tips of her fingers, then shook them like she was trying to get droplets of moisture off her hands.  “There is no suitable translation!”

Prompt: Lipstick, mascara, nail polish

The Lieutenant called out instructions to Trixie.  “Belden! You inventory the cosmetics.  Be sure you identify them by name, use, color and where they were found at the crime scene. See if there are any lipsticks that match the note.”

Trixie shot a startled look to Captain Molinson, a look that clearly said, “Are you kidding me?”  In her thoughts she shuddered, thinking, “Have you ever known me to willingly wear cosmetics?”

However, the Captain only smirked at her, so she knew there was no help from that quarter.

Trixie looked at the pile of cosmetics and medications on the table.  She used a pencil to gently sort the foundations, powders, eye-shadows, mascaras, and lipsticks into categories.  Trixie considered pulling out her cell-phone to call Moms.

“I bet Moms could help.   I love her, but unfortunately for her, fairies must have left me under the bush by the porch.  She always wanted a girly girl that she could play make-up with, but she got me instead.  She would be able to walk me through this land-mine mess of cosmetics but no, I can’t do that.  It would be foolish to bring a civilian into a police investigation.”

Trixie continued to mutter to herself, “Look at all these bottles of nail polish.  There are pinks, basic reds, peaches, white and clear.  Even I know that most of these look like polishes that would be more appropriate for a ‘tween’.  But then there are the bright or dark greens, blues and purples, bright or dark pinks and reds that should only be worn by someone with the sophistication to carry off the boldness of the colors.”

Trixie laughed under her breath, “Ok, most of these seem to be China Glaze products.  There is one bottle each and the names are really weird.  Colors like I’m with the lifeguard green, Hang Ten-Toes pink, Flirty Tankini orange, Love’s a Beach pink, Ride the Waves blue and Beach Cruise-r purple.  No, make that violet.  Oh heck,  I don’t have a built in color wheel.  I imagine that Diana could tell me the name of the actual color. Gleeps!  What was with this lady?  Did she have a Beach Boys obsession?”  

Trixie continued to search through the pile and looked closely at the lipsticks.  She made marks of each lipstick on evidence cards and listed the brand, lipstick name, and color number.  She grimaced when her fist smudged one of the marks.  She started to make a new evidence card, but stopped suddenly.

Trixie called over to her superior.  “Hey Lieutenant?   Can I look at that note again?” She put on plastic evidence gloves and took the note out of the bag. She held the note up to the light, and then laid it flat on her palm so she could look across the flat plane of the page. Finally, she brought the page close to her face.  Without touching her nose to the paper, she sniffed once and then again.

“Sir, I don’t want to mess up the evidence on the note, but are we sure that is a lipstick print?  There is no scent to the lipstick mark like is on the evidence cards.  All the lipsticks on the vanity have some sort of fruity, sweet scent.  And if you look at the flat plane of these evidence cards, you can see that the lipstick marks leave a three dimensional residue that doesn’t show up on the note.  And since the note was originally folded, it would have smudged if it were real lipstick. I think that the note actually used a lipstick font instead of the real thing.  In fact, now that I look at it again,  I think the writing may be in that Comic Sans-serif font, especially since there is no scent but printer ink, or copier chemical.

She continued, “And didn’t you say that her missing shoe hasn’t been found? There are too many bottles of nail polish here.  I don't think this lady used a professional to do her mani-pedi’s. We need to look for the  friends that she hung out with that encouraged this nail polish behavior.  They will likely know more about her relationships than just about any other witness.  The big clue is,

when I looked at the body, the toenails looked like they were freshly painted, and that doesn’t make sense because she has ‘Dr. Scholl’s Ingrown Toenail Pain Reliever’ on the vanity.

I have a couple of friends who are really into getting mani-pedi’s and to them, it is all about making themselves feel good. If either one of them ever had an ingrown toenail, I would lay odds that they would stop with the pedicures until the toe was healed.  So I don’t think the victim would be painting her toe-nails if she was fighting an ingrown toenail infection.  

I would lay you odds that, the perp has a shoe or foot fetish, and after he or she committed murder, they took the shoe and left the fake suicide note to throw us off the trail.”

Thanks to jstar8 for editing. However, any errors are and always will be, mine.

Also thanks to McRuth for letting me take the words out of her mouth.

Celebrate

It had been a long, hot, muggy, yet extremely fun day. The three generations of family which consisted of the senior citizens, the Bob-Whites, and the next generation had all enjoyed celebrating the Fourth of July with gossip, swimming, and food.   Now, the three generations were settling in at Sleepyside City Park on blankets and lawn chairs to enjoy the fireworks.

“Daddy, what are fireworks?” asked Joseph.  

Mart replied, “Fireworks are the result of pyrotechnics, which is the science of using materials capable of undergoing self-contained and self-sustained exothermic chemical reactions for the production of heat, light, gas, smoke and/or sound.”

Aunt Trixie interrupted Mart.  “Joseph, never mind your Daddy’s windbag explanation.  Fireworks are beautiful lights that are set off, sort of like when Daddy lights the bar-b-cue by flicking a lighter to light the fire to cook the meat.  But the lights of the fireworks are all different colors of the rainbow and all different designs like starbursts, streaks of light, and colored lightning.  Sometimes they sizzle like water on a hot skillet. Sometimes they dance along to the music that is played by the town band, and other times they boom like thunder to sound just like the noise the cannon on the courthouse square used to make.

Brian turned to Joseph.  “Joey, we celebrate the 4th of July because it is the anniversary of the day that the Declaration of Independence was signed back in 1776.”

Mart broke in saying, “Joe.  The most recognizable words from the Declaration of Independence are, We hold these truths to be self evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain inalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.”

Trixie added, “The fireworks are are always there to remind us of how hard we had to fight for our independence and freedom.

“Some of those same battles are still being fought today by men and women like your Uncle Brian, Uncle Dan, and your cousin, Hallie.  They guard our nation, and we honor them by celebrating our freedoms.”

Trixie stopped her narrative and pensively began rocking her daughter in her arms.  It had been many weeks since she had heard from Danny.  The last letter she had received had talked about some of the mysteries they had worked on when they were kids.  He didn’t have anything to say about the secret code they had found when the Bob-Whites were working on the antique show, but he had decorated the pages with the code characters around the border of the letter so that it looked like a funny kind of stationery.   Even though she herself had a high security clearance from working with the FBI, she knew that the censors still had to be careful about what information was left intact in letters home.  She still wasn’t sure whether she should be more worried about the fact that Daniel had circumvented the censors or about the mission about which he could give no information.  

Most letters from her husband were cut up like the old cards from player pianos.  But this last letter...it had very few cuts and was certainly homey and loving, but it was just different.  Maybe that is why she thought of trying to translate that old code.

The stick figures decorating the page borders had told a different story.  Without giving away any secrets, Danny had told her not to send anymore care packages for a while because he was going on a temporary duty assignment.  There was some risk involved, but it was necessary for the safety of the troops.

That was back just before Memorial Day.  Then, Flag Day on June 14 had come and gone and there were still no new letters.

When Hallie Belden had arrived on her doorstep last week, Trixie had nearly fainted in fear that she was about to receive notice that her husband was missing in action or dead.  Trixie could chuckle now about her greeting to her cousin.  “Hallie Belden, I don’t care if you are a chaplain.  You turn right around and go do your duty to some other family.  Don’t you come here and tell me that my husband won’t be coming home to me.”  

Trixie breathed a deep sigh.  It did take a while, but Hallie was finally able to convince me that she was on a normal leave and not here to make an announcement of loss.

Both Hallie and Brian had tried to use their connections as chaplain and doctor with the Red Cross, but they were unable to get access to any information about Daniel.

Trixie looked up to the skies and saw that it was finally dark enough for the fireworks, so she shifted Nellie Bean to make sure the two-year-old was awake enough to watch the show.  

The first display was an outline of the American flag, complete with a blue field of white stars and attached red and white stripes.

Hallie got Joe’s attention and said, “Did you know that the red, white and blue of the flag have special meanings?  Red is for valor and zeal.  White is for hope and cleanliness or life.  Blue -- the color of heaven -- is for reverence and loyalty.   I think the meanings behind the colors make our flag even more special than just as a symbol of our country.”

The family continued to watch the display and make frequent comments.

“Beautiful.”

“Oooo.”

“Aahhh.”

“Look at those reds and blues.  They are gorgeous!”

The family around her became very quiet as the show wound down to get ready for the grand finale. Trixie looked down at her daughter.  “Nellie Bean, don’t you think the fireworks are pretty?”

Daniella, a little sleepily, turned to her mommy and dutifully responded,  “Yes, Mommy.  They are buffalo.”  Then she lifted her arms to someone behind them.  Trixie didn’t give much thought to handing her daughter to a nearby relative until she heard a familiar chuckle that turned into an appreciative laugh.

Just as the town symphony began to play the William Tell Overture in tandem with the grand finale, Daniel, with his daughter in his arms, leaned over Trixie’s chair and, giving them both a big hug, said,  “Yes, Nellie Bean,  they are buffalo,  but not as buffalo as you and your mommy.  Happy Fourth of July!”

*buffalo was the way my own two year old daughter tried to say beautiful.