Today, as a massive cold front stacked itself up on our little horizon here, I found myself doing what I�ve done since childhood�pretending that the cloud formation was a mountain range�glorious, empty, magnificent mountains. On the scale of the Rockies, I�m talking here, not the old, tired variety found in these parts. At age 8, this is a perfectly respectable exercise in self-delusion in which to engage. At my age, it is pathetic. If I like seeing mountains so damn much, why don�t I go and live under some?

Or how about just one? It�s snowing in Seattle today. Gee, that sounds purty.

In other news, the code has been cracked! The case of The Milkshake Song is closed. After much extended discussion and fractious debate as to the nature of the true subject of the song, an anonymous Boston bar patron has provided the answer via J. The �milkshake� in question is a reference to blow job technique. Golly! That makes perfect sense! And thank goodness that�s over. Ned�s been calling and calling to ask me and Bess to go for a ride this afternoon and have some lunch. He�s been swell about this case and letting us girls do some real sleuthing for once! He says hearing about the Secret in the Old Milkshake Song so much has really made him thirsty for one though. I think I'll suprise him with a thick and creamy tall one for being such a sport. George heroically hitchhiked back from the haunted lighthouse where we had to leave her yesterday to chase the old groundskeeper up to the abandoned inn, so I�ll see if she�d like to come along. Ever since the night we spent out at Shadow Ranch, she's been grinning at me and saying she�s always hated milkshakes. This red headed detective may take that mystery on next!