“A teenage boy with a Mohawk sat across from me, sneering. I’d seen that look before. Why was it a problem to knit in public?“My grandma knits.”I ignored him.“So what are you making, Grandma?” Mohawk’s voice was ugly.I arched my eyebrow. “A cashmere cock ring. Your grandma ever knit one of those?”The kid’s eyes grew wide, and he suddenly became very interested in a four-year-old issue of Teen Vogue.”

“The elevator turned out to be slower than the damned train at Disney World. And it played “The Girl from Ipanema” in Muzak. I looked at Paris and saw that he was mouthing the lyrics. That was it. I’d have to plan an intervention for him once we got home.”

“Believe me, I know people who have doting Grandmas. Jessica's Grandma Pearl spent four years knitting her a blanket. Four years! And she's got arthritis. I wonder what Grandma Pearl would think if she knew Jessica lost her virginity to Michael Greenberg under the blanket she spent four years knitting with her crooked fingers.”

“Dekker kicked out, connecting with my left shin, and I dropped him for a second. That was all the time he needed to grab a weapon. Without thinking I pulled out a similar item for the box. And that was how we ended up fighting a duel with plastic lightsabers. We must have looked strange - two middle aged men slashing away at each other with toy swords complete with sound effects.”

“Oh my God. I just got dumped by a red headed mortician in a funeral home named Crummy's, after pretending to be a circus freak at a visitation I had just crashed. I was pretty sure there'd be no bouncing back from this. -Dakota Bombay”

“Morelli was wearing a blazer over a black knit shirt, He took a seat, and his jacket swung wide, exposing the gun at his hip."Nice piece!" Grandma said. "What is it? Is that a forty-five?""It's a nine- millimeter.""Don't suppose you'd let me see it," Grandma said. "I'd sure like to get the feel of a gun like that.""No!" said everyone in unison."I shot a chicken once," Grandma explained to Morelli. "It was an accident.""Where did you shoot it?" he finally asked."In the gumpy," Grandma said. "Shot it clear off.”

“All my life, up until that moment, I'd had a warm, protective blanket wrapped around me, knitted of aunts and uncles, purled of first and second and third cousins, knot-tied with grandmas and grandpas and greats. That blanket had just dropped from my shoulders. I felt cold, lost and alone.”