After the commercials, Grace is leading Joan into her kitchen, complaining, "What is it with you and coming over unannounced? You're like a sitcom character." I'm surprised she's got nothing to say about the stink on Joan. I'm also all excited that we finally get to see inside Grace's house. Big place, nice stuff. They've got some money. Joan replies, "I come with -- ooh!" She spies a tray of rugelach and grabs it. Help yourself, girlie. She continues, "…essential info." While Joan's back is turned, Grace notices a picture on the stainless steel side-by-side fridge and quickly snatches it and stuffs it beside the fridge. What was that, do you suppose? It kind of looked like a picture of a baby or toddler. Would they really still have a picture of Grace up there from fifteen years ago? If it's not Grace, why would she be so embarrassed? I enjoy these little mysteries.
Joan: "Because of my keen literary eye and crazy detective skills, your poem will be featured in the yearbook!" Joan, sitting at the counter, flips open the plastic clamshell containing the rugelach. Grace: "Excuse me?" Joan: "Which almost didn't happen, by the way, because you forgot to put your name on it, silly." Grace laughs: "You're a bent pipe, Girardi. I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about." Joan stuffs some rugelach in her hole and snaps open a Ziploc bag containing the odoriferous ode, waving it tauntingly and asking, "Look familiar?" Grace, peanut buttering some bread at the island, is incredulous: "You picked through my garbage at school? Are you sick?" Joan's confused: "No. No, I mean, yeah, I picked…because you submitted it…" Grace: "No, I didn't. I had lunch, then scribbled some crap, and then used it wipe the creamed chicken off my pants before I tossed it." Seriously, Joan, think about it: like Grace would submit anything to the yearbook, other than possibly a threat of some kind. Joan's confused: "So you don't want it in the yearbook?" Grace laughs: "Remember me, Girardi? Do I participate?" Joan: "Wow! This is awesome!" Grace: "No, it isn't. It's creepy, and you're losing it." Joan says the way she found it may seem strange: "But I did find it, and now they want to publish it in the yearbook." Grace: "Tough luck." Joan: "Grace, do you know how that touched me? Huh? You have this whole Emily Dickinson crazy talent that no one ever knew about and now they will!" Great brief look of vulnerability on Grace's face when Joan says this. Grace: "No, they won't! I'm not having some pimply dorkwads pointing me out as 'sensitive poetry girl.'" Joan pleads, "Come on! At first I didn't know why I was at the yearbook, but now I do. I'm supposed to find something of value and print it! If I don't, I'll be, like, this total loser." Somehow it's always about Joan. Grace relents and says Joan can publish it, but only without her name. Joan explodes: "I don't understand! If I could write like that, I'd put my name on it, like, fifty times!" Grace walks out with her peanut butter, banana, and chocolate sandwich while Joan sighs furiously.