Some of us see our names in lights. For me, it’s chalk, and even more miraculously, cookies. When I arrived at Blue Planet Cafe in Topeka to give a reading from The Divorce Girl, Linda, the visionary and whimsical owner, presented me with a tray of my name, composed in cookie dough. More beautiful things may have been made in this world, but they’re few and far between.
Blue Planet also wrote my name in chalk on the stair, but the entrance to the place was just the beginning of its charm. The cafe is spacious and beautiful, the food was luscious, and the company was delightful. We had a splendid time at the reading (at least, the reader — me — did), and afterwards, Linda gave me a tour of the magical ballroom and bakery. Melissa, who organized the reading for me, does baking and serving cafe and writes wicked good poetry to boot.
Back home afterwards, I wondered what to do with my cookie name, but I didn’t have to wonder long. Ken went downstairs to give Forest one of the spectacular frosted scones, I was outside carrying in cat food, and the next thing I knew, the only thing left of my name was the letter A and a very happy dog. There’s a lot of things that A could stand for, but for today, I’ll choose the word “anything,” as in “anything can appear, arrive and accumulate at any moment, and with a dog like Shay, sometimes there’s no avoiding losing your letters.