A Brush with Death on Bunker Hill

Today, Ginny and Gizmo and I ran errands.  Nothing too terribly exciting.  We went to Krogers to get some groceries, washed and vacuumed the car, and then went to drop off some bread at the Dougherty's house.  Side story:  the bread delivery in and of itself it kind of funny.  Our tiny commissary (which is closed on Monday's for 'restocking') carries this delicious artisan bread that you can only normally find on Tuesday.  We used to get this bread when we lived in Washington and when I came across it in Mississippi, it was a small victory for the south.  The commissary doesn't even carry fresh baked italian bread so, seriously, I planned all future meals around this loaf of bread.  Anyway, we served it with dinner one night and when Susannah Dougherty commented on it, it gave me the opportunity to push this riveting background story on her as I just have with all of you.  I promised that I would buy her a loaf the next time I came across it in the commissary.  Fast forward to Sunday, we stopped at the commissary and to my never ending surprise, we came across one lone loaf, just waiting to be snatched up by some spoiled yuppy Washingtonians.  Now, on to the actual bread delivery.
I pulled into the Dougherty's driveway on Bunker Hill.  I stepped out of the car, initially forgetting the bread, closed the door behind me with the keys still in the ignition and Ginny and Gizmo in the backseat.  I can almost feel you cringing at this point.  I took two steps, realized that I had forgotten the bread, opened the door, grabbed the bread, and made my way to their front door.  This time, however, I hear 'cl-clunk' a few seconds after the door closes.  Shit.  That was my imagination...a car doesn't just lock itself randomly...so I kept walking, had a nice chat with Mike Dougherty about the bread (I'm sure he could care less), and turned back to my car with a little bit of dread rising inside.  I tried to open the driver's side...that's a no go...back seat...sigh...the hatch on the trunk...are you f-ing kidding me?  I haven't locked my keys in the car since college when I drank too much Nyquil!  It was only a matter of time before Ginny's crying drove Gizmo insane and I would be forced to watch an all-out cage match develop in my backseat!  Deep breathe.  I did not panic; I merely laughed in disbelief.  I went back to the house and knocked on Mike's door because I knew that he would be more sensible at decision making given the situation at hand.   Luckily, today was unseasonably warm and I had cracked the window for Gizmo when I stopped at Krogers. He went back inside, donned his superhero cape, and came to our rescue with a giant metal rod (to whose alternate purpose is unidentifiable).  He squeezed his hand into the tiny window opening, maneuvered around an angry Gizmo, and hit the unlock button.  Crisis averted.
In short, Gizmo saved Ginny's life.  But I guess Mike Dougherty helped a little too.

Ginny and Gizmo share a moment of quiet reflection

Ginny takes Beale Street (Memphis) by storm