Nothing Is As It Seems

I am gratified by the number of page visits this blog receives these days. Gratified and, to be honest, surprised. If anyone knows who the eleven people in Russia and the one in Poland are reading it, I'd love to know, too. If you are one of those people leave a comment or email me. Having followers behind the former Iron Curtain  lends more credibility to my espionage theory, though, doesn't it?
Get this. Ray, former MI5 I am sure, called Thursday evening and asked Lili this question. "I have rung you up to see if you eat muffins." Well, what the hell else does one do with muffins? It would have been an innocent question from most people, but not from Ray. We, and by we of course I mean I, became convinced he called the wrong people when no muffins were forthcoming. Three days later, Lili called him and his bluff  - well, he called us but that weakens the theory - and said in her very best cloak and dagger voice, "Where are my muffins?" Ray, it seems, always has delicious muffins laying around in case he isn't wearing his glasses when he dials the phone. Ten minutes later he showed up with some of them. We fed one to the dogs in case there were neuro-paralyzers in the recipe now that he and his confederates know I am on to them.

On Her Majesty's Secret Muffin Service

Shaggy and Moxie seem fine.