Day 22 of NaNoWriMo Wordcount 44,277/ NaBloPoMo (22 for 22)
Writing on Novel was a little slow this morning in part due to the bottomless champagne glass at the McMinn Clinic last night, but meeting a friend for a dos Equis at Jim ‘n’ Nicks and perhaps the glass of Cabernet I poured when I got home have something to do with it.
Anywho, I got up poured a cup of coffee, put a Stauffer’s Spinach soufflé on the counter to thaw, grabbed the tiny tablet-sized TV from its kitchen corner and climbed back into my warm bed. Sipping coffee, I alternately watched the Today Show and along with Jazmine watched the crazy squirrels bouncing on unsteady tree branches just outside the windows.
I can only stay in bed so long, but although brief it was a nice idyll and out of my normal routine. I turned the oven on to 375, preheated my smallest iron skillet which I’d smeared with bacon drippings. There’s nothing like the aroma of bacon. You can use butter or any oil you choose, but I happen to love bacon fat for certain things like cornbread or cooking breakfast. Everytime I cook bacon, I transfer the drippings to a small mason jar in the fridge.
The soufflé was thawed enough to cut up and fit in the skillet. I don’t and won’t own a microwave. I don’t and won’t cook in those plastic containers that frozen box food comes in. I’ve turned down the only coffee in sight if it was served in Styrofoam, never used Teflon or other coated cookware. I’ve always been this way which made many of my friends laugh at what they thought were my peculiar obsessions back in the day. Now with all the stories circulating about dangers of microwave cooking and plastic containers and all the other toxins we consume daily, many of them have jumped on my bandwagon.
Excerpt from Murder is a Primary Color:
Virtual Search (cont’d)
Hurley turned to Janet and smiled, “Some hunky guide – Don’t suppose we can have a Stephanie next time? Let’s eat, I’m starved.”
Janet laughed, stuck the flashdrive into her Levi’s watch pocket, texted the cab service, and they left arm in arm to find a pizza and discuss their findings. They rode in silence down the lift to the tram-stair to the ground and the waiting servocab. “I better call Jade” remarked Janet as the car seat formed around her like a glove and secured her gently in place. She spoke to the phone in her lap “phone Jade face to face” the panel in front of her lit and a disembodied voice said “Accessing”.
Jade’s face appeared. “Hello Janet, what did you find?”
“Lot’s, whatever you do, don’t let Kane out of your sight. Jade, there’s lots but here’s the nut: One, all victims are women; two, all had husbands, estranged or divorced or just out of town at the time. And Jade three. Three, all the men came out of nowhere just nowhere and they’re all gone with no trace – nor forward except your Mr. Kane. If he gets away, you’ll never find him. We’re going to follow a few loose ends, but that’s the nut.”