"That is One Big Pile of....."

Well, the lawns in this town should be pretty green this summer, if the level of fertilizer output from my kids this month is any indication.

While my wife was at work yesterday, there was a rare, brief lull in the action so I thought I would fill in a few frames of the Saturday crossword puzzle. I don't know what it's like where you live, but around here, the Saturday puzzle is pretty much reserved for nuclear physicists and people who have memorized all of the rivers and mountains in Russia. Why these crossword authors think anyone will remember the name of Samantha's cousin on "Bewitched" is beyond me. How about a "Family Guy" crossword? Now that I could finish.

Anyway, I sat down for a brief intermission when I noticed that our 8-month-old had that familiar bright red glow about her. I gave it a second, took a sniff, and sure enough, the Cracker Jacks box suddenly had a prize in it.

I gave her a few minutes to finish up (I mean really, who likes to get right up? You have to savor the moment a bit.), and took her upstairs for a fresh diaper. I don't know why, but when I changer her, she seems to look at me with this look that says, "Yeah, who's holding the poop NOW?"

So we get her all cleaned up. I came back downstairs to try and figure out what James I and Charles I had in common (my guess...they both have "I" in their names).

Just then, the 4-year-old calls my name from afar...

"Daaaaaaddy!"

"Yes?", I reply.

"I'm finished!", she says.

"Finished what?", I ask.

"Poooooooping!"

[sigh]

"Better take care of it.", I say optimistically.

"No, you better help this time.", she says.

[This can't be good] I'm thinking.

OK, I've now taken care of number two number two (that's NOT a typo). Finally. Now I need a five-letter word for a banana liquer drink frozen over ice.

Just then I look over and see that our 8-month-old has that familiar bright red glow about her.

Great, if I've got to be in the sequel to "Groundhog Day", why did the universe have to pick THIS particular 15-minute period for me to relive over and over again? Diapers are expensive. Enjoy it for a while, kiddo.

P.S. - My favorite line of the day...

"Daddy, guess what I just sneezed out of my mouth?"

Boy, I wonder if I can coax it out of her...

"What would that be, sweetie?", I replied.

"A banana!"

Is this a knock-knock joke?

Kids Say the Darndest Things

Just when it seems like nothing funny will ever happen again and my blog will die off, my kids come to the rescue.

As I was getting ready for work last week, my four-year-old girl came up to me and asked,

"Daddy, will you put fingernail polish on my nails?"

Hmmm...SuperDad does not recognize this alien terminology. What is this pol-ish of which she speaks? Apparently, she hasn't read the Daddy manual that says I am the one to teach about football, car parts, and bodily functions. Luckily, SuperMom bailed me out of this one.

Then came Saturday. Saturdays are always entertaining as my wife works and I am home with the girls. As the four-year-old was playing by herself in the playroom, I heard a sneeze followed by, "Bless myself!"

Yes, that's the way it works isn't it? Why not?
------------------------------------------------
Yesterday, she also treated me to a classic knock-knock joke...almost.

"Knock knock, Daddy", she said.

"Who's there", I replied.

"Banana", she said.

I better get comfortable, I thought, "Banana who?", I responded.

"Knock knock."

"Who's there?"

"Banana", she said.

"Banana who?", I asked.

"Knock knock."

"Who's there?"

Wait for it....

"Aren't you glad I didn't say 'orange'?", she said proudly.

OK, so she almost had it right.
-------------------------------------------
Just when it seemed that my 8-month-old had lost her ability to speak (it had been two weeks since she blurted out her name!), she has shown us that she's still 'got it'.

Friday night was 'date night'. We got an actual babysitter and everything. This was the first time that someone other than a grandparent would be watching the kids while we were out.

Anyway, I walked in the door, said a big "Hiiii!" to our 8-month-old, she looked right up at me and said,

"Hi, Dada!"

Hey, that was a sentence! The babysitter even gaped! Pretty cool.

Get It? Get It? I Don't Get It

It's easy to forget how difficult the concept of humor can be. What makes one thing funny and another thing not funny? Is it the material? The delivery? The personality of the person?

My four-year-old clearly doesn't quite grasp the concept of puns yet...although I'm trying my best.

We were drawing the other day and we made a house and some trees. She wanted to keep coloring the tree although it was pretty much complete. Harkening back to MY dad's own slightly dry sense of humor, I said,

"Why don't we LEAVE the tree alone. Get it? Leave? A tree has leaves?"

She seemed to get it and laughed. She has mastered the art of mimicing social laughter. Even if she doesn't know why it's funny, she knows that she should be laughing. This makes it hard to tell if she 'gets it' or not.

Well, the answer seems to be 'not'. The last week has been full of comments like,

"Daddy, I'm coloring with a crayon. Get it? A crayon?"

::crickets chirping::

"Ooooh!", I say, "a crayon....hahahaha!"

We can't damage her fragile ego as she pursues her first stand-up career, right?

"Look, Daddy! I have a booger! Get it? A booger?"

OK, well that one actually WAS pretty funny, but for all the wrong reasons.

"Look, Daddy! The baby has a poopy! Get it? A poopy?"

Yep, she's been on a roll this week. Before you know it, she'll be closing with,

"Thank you very much. You've been great. I'm here all week. Tip your waiter."

-----

On another note, our 7-month-old now has an astonishing vocabulary, consisting of:

"Hi" ("Haaaaaaaah")
"Dada" ("Dadadadadadada")
Her own name (this one comes out clear as a bell)

and....of course....

"Dora" (Dooooooo-ah)

Still no "anthropomorphism". Guess I'll have to settle for "plethora". :-)

Attack of the Easter Monster

It's that time of year again. While my wife was at work on Saturday, I took our 4-year-old daughter and our 6-month-old daughter to the annual Easter egg hunt.

I use the term 'hunt' very loosely. This is basically a giant field with the crowd gathered in a big circle around the perimeter of the mine field, er, egg field.

We wait for the giant fire engine to honk its horn, and.......

HOOOOOOOOOOOONK!

Free for all! The crowd converges on the eggs! We pick up 6 eggs and stuff them into the plastic grocery bag that I remembered to bring this year (hey, it's not a fancy Easter basket but it works).

Just like that, it's over. 60 seconds flat. Now, the real fun begins.

The Easter Bunny comes riding up on a big fire engine, basically scaring the crap out of the 4-year-0ld. She is pretty much done at this point. We run away from the Easter Bunny, head over to the prize table and get her little $1.99 stuffed bunny that she got for collecting a 'golden egg'.

My arm suddenly feels surprising warm. I realize that the 6-month-old has spit up on my left arm. Good times.

We sit on the curb for five minutes eating Reese's Peanut Butter cups and chocolate eggs.

"Daddy, can we pleeeeease go home now?"

Total time elapsed = 30 minutes.

Hey, this is my kind of family outing!

Houston, We Have "Dada"

She said it. Yep. She definitely said it.

My wife brought six-month-old daughter into our bed the other morning. She rolled over, looked at me, and said,

"Dada."

Wait for it....

"Dadadadadadadadadadadadada."

A bit of overkill but, hey, that's OK. She's got it.

Now, we're working on "anthropomorphism". :-)

Page 123

This is an interesting little meme that Flea sent me the other day.

Here are the instructions:

1. Pick up the nearest book ( of at least 123 pages).

2. Open the book to page 123.

3. Find the fifth sentence.

4. Post the next three sentences.

So, you'll never guess it but, here goes...

"After working through my initial disinclination, I discovered that Atlanta was exactly where I was supposed to be. I was somewhat indisposed to moving, but I wasn't rebellious. Rebellion tells God that we refuse to do what He wants us to do."

I know, it's riveting, right? Can't wait for the sequel.

I'm actually supposed to tag 5 people right now, but the six-month-old is wailing and they four-year-old is making fun of the eleven-year-old.

If anyone needs me I'll be in the back yard for four or five months.

Busy as a Beaver

My four-year-old daughter apparently watched a T.V. show about beavers yesterday.

I know this because, when I came home from work, she had made a "beaver house" out of pillows, blankets, and chairs in the middle of the family room.

In a famous quote that will be repeated for years to come, I walked in the door and my daughter said to me,

"Daddy, come and see my dam beaver house!"

:-)

P.S. - If you're in the mood for a tear-jerker and you have a little girl, go get the "This Moment" CD by Steven Curtis Chapman.

I'm a pretty macho guy but I just cannot listen to "Cinderella" without choking up.

It would make a great Valentine's Day gift for YOUR SuperDad.

Who's Afraid of the Big Bad Wolf?

My four-year-old daughter woke up the other day, came into our bedroom, and announced...


"Daddy, I had a dream about the big, bad wolf."

"Oh really?", I said, "what about the big, bad wolf?"

"Well," she replied, "the big, bad wolf was in my room...and I was a little bit scared...then the big, bad wolf turned into YOU, Daddy!"

Just when I think I have heard everything. My wife and I are currently having a debate. She is laughing because she takes it to mean that our daughter thinks that I'm scary when I'm angry.

I, on the other hand, think that she was scared so she drummed an image of safety and security to protect her from the mean, angry wolf.

Or maybe it's just because I look like a Wookie without a shirt on. :-)

P.S. - I had a Top Ten Daddy moment at the grocery store this week. My four-year-old wanted to come with me so I brought her along. As I was pushing her down the cereal aisle in her cart, she looked me right in the eye and said, "Daddy, you're my hero." That one will stick with me for quite a while.

Free Will? Not So Much

My 4-year-old daughter asked me to play with her in her pretend kitchen yesterday. This kid is creative AND persistent. She will do whatever it takes to get the results she wants.

She asked me if I wanted a drink from her pretend kitchen. This is my cue that she wants to get me a drink from the pretend water dispenser on the front of her pretend refrigerator.

I thought I would have a little fun with her...

"I think I would like some milk," I said.

She opened the fridge, picked up the 'milk carton', 'opened it', and sniffed it.

"Ooh, Daddy, I think the milk is bad," she said.

"OK, then how about some orange juice?", I said.

"Hmm," she replied, "we seem to be all out of orange juice, Daddy, but I will get you some at the store tomorrow."

I stifled a chuckle as I'm sure I have said this to her many times over the course of the last few months.

"OK, I will just have some water," I said.

"From the sink or from the 'fridge?", she asked.

Still trying to get a rise out of her, I replied...

"Hmm, how about just from the sink?"

She went over and pretended to turn the handles.

"Gee, Daddy, the sink is broken...it's not working. How about some nice cold water from the fridge?"

Boy, she's good.

"OK," I finally said, "I'll take some water from the refrigerator."

"There. Now see, Daddy? Isn't that better?"

It's a good thing I was never that stubborn. ;-)

To Shave or Not to Shave?

Well, I shaved my Christmas goatee yesterday. I let it grow for about two weeks every year right around the holidays.

It actually looked pretty cool...I felt like "evil Kirk" from that old Star Trek episode with the parallel universe.

Still, every time I kissed my little girls they would say, "too scratchy!".

So I shaved it.

My four-year-old must have gotten used to the look of it, though, because she came into the bathroom after I had shaved, looked at me, and said,

"Gee, Daddy, your head sure looks funny!"

Boy, how's that for a nice send-off to start the work week?? :-)

My First Time

Stop that. Get your mind our of the gutter. I'm talking about my first "Meme". This will be my first attempt at one so please, be kind...rewind (sorry, wrong slogan).

It seems, my friend kidzmama over at Not a Spare Moment has tagged me for a Meme. I think I will dedicate this post to seeing how many times I can say the word, "Meme", because, well, it's just a fun word to say. If I say it 10 times fast, I sound like I'm warming up to sing.

So, if you're like I was and have no idea what a Meme is, then got over to Wikipedia and read the definition of the word "Meme".

Without further ado, this Meme is supposed to revolve around Seven Things About Me You Don't Already Know.

1) As you may know, before I became a dad, I used to sing in a rock band. I actually sing, play the piano, and play the guitar.

What you may NOT know is that one of our songs was actually played on MTV. Once. Yep, once. Hey, that's better than most so I'm happy.

Yep, that's me, second from the left...AKA "the short one".



2) Let's see, I lived in Spain for a month while studying Spanish in college. THAT was an interesting experience. Everyone should study abroad once in their lives.

3) I hate seafood. Can't stand crabs. Most people are amazed at this given that I live on the East Coast. I am easy to find at crab feasts...I'm the guy eating the burger.

4) I sing at church. Yep, I'm a choirboy. Of course, my church "choir" has drums, electric guitars, keyboard, and a bass player. >:-)

5) Boxers or briefs? BOTH...boxer briefs! It's the only way to go. Whoever invented these should win a Nobel Peace Prize.

6) I HAVE a 'red-headed step-child' so don't use that wonderful, slangy expression around me (if you don't know what I'm talking about...great).

7) My wife and I are each on our second marriage. Why? Well, the first time was just practice...and obviously practice makes perfect! SuperMom is a wonderful partner and my best friend.

So there you have it. Seven things you probably didn't know about me. I know, I know...you laughed, you cried...it was better than "Cats".

I am now supposed to 'tag' seven people. I, therefore, choose...

The Sports Mama

Crunchy Domestic Goddess

Flea over at Flea's World

Amy over at Memories and Musings of a Mommy

Rachel over at From the Land of Monkeys and Princesses

The Burgh Baby

AND,

Lisa over at Crazy Adventures in Parenting


Please link back to this blog, post your meme in YOUR blog, then tag seven more people...and hey, if you know any other good DADDY blogger let me know...I just don't know of any.

Thanks!

I Threw up the Sash

'Twas the Night Before Christmas and all through my tummy,
something wasn't quite right, something felt quite funny.

Could it have been the meatballs, the potatoes, the stew?
Or maybe the turkey all covered with goo?

No, this was quite different, a terrible pain.
My efforts to fight it so far were in vain.

My sister-in-law from Alaska had been sick.
She passed it on to my in-laws and passed it on quick!

From there, it went on to my three-year-old girl.
Last week, she woke up at 2am and started to hurl.

"That must be the culprit", I said to myself.
I began looking for Tums on the medicine shelf.

I still wasn't quite right, though, and then came the chills.
Followed by a fever and the search for more pills.

Oh no! No more Tylenol! Now what will I do?
Ah, SuperMom ran to the store and got me some Ginger Ale too.

OK, the presents are out and I can head off to bed.
But this unsettling feeling lingers inside of my head.

Could this be the very sum of my fears?
You see, SuperDad hasn't thrown up in over ten years.

Well, finally I'm able to nod off to sleep.
Only to waken in big trouble...but deep!

It's midnight and off to the bathroom I rush!
I can feel my insides quickly turning to mush!

I hope I can make it. I think I might faint.
I feel like I've inhaled three days worth of paint.

I made it to the bathroom in ten seconds flat!
Now which end goes on the toilet? Thank goodness there's a mat!

Oh no, here it comes, just like my college years.
After partying with frat brothers and chugging six beers.

The noise is quite awful, I have to confess.
Like being punched in the stomach and stomped on the chest.

I'm sure I was making an unusual clatter.
Then, SuperMom came in to see what was the matter.

"Can I come in and help you?", she asked, springing from bed.
"Trust me," I said, "you don't want THIS image stuck in your head."

At last, the worst was over. I actually felt pretty good.
After all that commotion, I suppose that I should.

SuperMom passed me my toothbrush and then the Listerine...
followed by the all-purpose cleaner for the latrine.

Finally, I slipped back into bed, and into my trunks.
2007: The year Santa blew chunks.

Fake Plastic Trees

Nope, this isn't about Radiohead, sorry. It's about trees. Well, actually it's about plastic. I broke down this year and opted for the fake tree.

Why? With two kids it wasn't so hard to get out and look for a tree. Now that we have THREE kids, and busy schedules it was getting to be downright impossible.

So, when my 4-year-old said, "Daddy, can we go pick a tree?"

I said, "Sure," and off to WalMart we went.

"Daddy, this isn't where we get trees. We get trees OUTSIDE."

"Yes, I know...but this will be a SPECIAL tree. This will be one that we can use over and over and over!"

Gee, can you tell that I am in sales?

We got the tree and took it home. It's not so bad, really. It looks a little bit fake but it came with lights pre-attached! Man, you can't beat that with a stick!

I might just have to buy some of that pine spray, just to make it a little more realistic.

This is really a first for me. We ALWAYS had a real tree growing up, but now I can see why sometimes we didn't have our tree up until Christmas Eve when I was little. Life is HECTIC. This will be one less thing to have to 'run out and do' every year.

Which reminds me, we were out shopping at the mall this weekend and the toy store had this semi-intelligent toy pony named "Butterscotch" that reacts to your words, lights, sounds, etc. It even comes with a pretend carrot to feed to it.

This thing is really kind of creepy...and it costs $250! Really, for $250 it should be able to change a diaper and vacuum the house too.

Luckily, my 4-year-old was not into this. I think I would have to sleep with garlic around my neck or something...the thing is just creepy.

Anyway, only three shopping days left! This year I'm almost done except for one person (no, not my wife...I'm not STUPID!).

I will be strapping on my racing shoes on Christmas Eve as usual, I'm sure. There's just something insanely fun about being out with the masses. I'm better under pressure anyway.

'Tis the season! Maybe one day soon we will actually DECORATE the tree!

Do Not Read While Eating....Part II

Well, it's been a record 5 minutes since my last post (scroll down and read Part I if you haven't already). It's funny, two weeks...no inspiration. Five minutes...an entire book's worth of lovely, blog-worthy, family moments.

After surviving the incident pictured in the previous post, my lovely wife got the baby changed, bathed her, and put her in a nice, new, clean outfit.

I had just finished hitting "Publish Post"...when I hear, "OH MY GOD!"

I look over...and I see baby formula SPEWING from my daughter's mouth and BOTH nostrils. This was not her typical little 'spit-up'. This was her imitation of a fire-breathing dragon on steroids. Barry Bonds would be jealous of this one. Then...it happens again. And yet AGAIN.

This reminded me of an incident from my childhood that my mother and I now simply refer to as...."The Brioschi Incident". Without going into the gory details, if there had been an Olympic event called 'Hurling for Distance', I would have won.

This time, we had to remove the baby's NEW outfit AND my wife had to change too.

The worst part of all this is that I was home with the kids all day while my wife was at work and everything was fine.

Now that my wife has decided to try and spend a few minutes with our daughter, she's been pooped on and puked on within the last 30 minutes.

My first reaction was to reach for the camera again but my paternal instincts kicked in and said 'clean the baby, idiot.' Of course, later, my wife said, "Why didn't you take a picture of that too?"

Yeah, like THAT's what you all really would have wanted to see. The next thing you know, I'll be taking pictures of their poopy diapers. Sheesh.

In her defense, the baby had a check-up yesterday and got FOUR shots in her legs so she's probably not feeling quite right. Poor kid.

Well, I'm off to go put on a tarp and play with the baby. Probably see you in another five minutes.

Do Not Read While Eating...Part I

Oh, so you just had to see, huh? The headline wasn't warning enough, right? It's like saying, "DON'T think about a pink elephant!"

(By the way, YES I'm still around. Two of our three daughters have December birthdays so, like the magician in Frosty the Snowman, we've been BUSY, BUSY, BUSY! Now, where were we? Oh yes...)

Well, you brought this upon yourSELF. Just remember that.

Let me just say this...sometimes, when you're suffering from a mild case of writer's block, something happens that makes you think, "Gee, that was easy."

So.....without further ado.....

Would SOMEONE.....PLEASE.....tell me WHAT....in the WORLD.....we're supposed to do with THIS???...

Knock, Knock...Who's There?

Let's take a little trip to Odd-Land, shall we?

Our three-year-old woke up this morning, came into our room and announced the following:


"I heard a noise in my room last night while I was sleepin'."

"You did?", we asked, "What did it sound like?"

Our daughter replied, "Well, it, um, sounded like...a knock-knock joke!"

I will pause for a moment to let that sink in.

It was at this precise moment in the conversation that I could feel the synapses of my brain frying. Surely, I was about to have an aneurism trying to figure this one out.

After we re-gained our composure, we asked,

"What did the knock-knock joke sound like?"

"Well," said our daughter, "it sounded like....'knock knock, who's there, banana!'"

I can tell you that, at this point, my brain looked at me, picked up its coat and said, "I'm outta' here...check please."

Now, I have heard lots of noises in my sleep. I have had moments where I could've sworn that the kids were calling me. At times, I have heard the dog having some sort of "gotta' get that rabbit" dream and huffing & puffing in his sleep...at least I HOPE that's what he's dreaming about.

I mean, he's a dog. What about his life is so stressful that he has nightmares?

"Laying on the floor, laying on the floor, licking up crumbs, licking myself, laying on the floor, gotta' go outside, gotta' go back in, gotta' eat, gotta' see what's on top of this counter, gotta' grab this brownie before anyone sees me, oops got yelled at, gotta' go get some sleep."

That's the extent of his exciting day. Still, he huffs and puffs and whines in his sleep. This, by the way, usually causes me to ball up one of my socks and lob it down to the foot of bed and peg him right in the snout.

"SHHHH!", I call out to the dog.

He then assumes that I am calling him, of course.

"Hmmm....'SHHHH'," he thinks to himself, "That must mean 'come here and lick my hand.'"

He then comes over to the side of the bed and plants a big, wet one on me to see what's up. I usually give him an obligatory pat on the head.

"Now, go back to sleep....good boy...and shut up."

ANYWAY, in all of my years, I have never heard a knock-knock joke in my room in the middle of the night...although I admit, the prospect does seem rather entertaining.

Of all the knock-knock jokes in the world, why would she hear the old "Banana...'banana who?'" joke?

I gave my daughter the only advice I could think of.

"Orange you glad you were able to go back to sleep?" :-)

Busted by a Three-Year-Old

My wife came home from work on Saturday and we all decided to head over to the mall for some shopping and dinner. 'Tis the season, right?

I had just spent the morning alone with my girls and was relieved to have my wife home from work to lend a hand, although Saturday mornings are my favorite as far as 'Daddy Time' goes.

As we were headed over to the mall, my three-year-old daughter chimed in from the back seat,

"Daddy! Tell Mommy about when you got MAD!"

Uh oh, I thought. Here it comes. I replied,

"Yes, Daddy got a little mad this morning but it's OK now."

Just when I thought that this would blow over...she chimed in again,

"Yes, Mommy. Daddy bonked-ed his head on the kitchen chair and he got mad...and yelled at it...and then he KICKED it!"

Yep, I was toast. I've got a pretty good handle on the old Italian temper these days. Still, I was bent down, trying to fix a loose screw on the cast-iron chair when the phone rang, the doorbell rang, the baby started crying, and the dog started barking.

I jumped up and slammed the right side of my eye socket right into the cast-iron chair. For a moment, I thought I was going to have a black eye and I momentarily went a little ape.

I could tell that I had scared my three-year-old, though, so I immediately went over and told her I was sorry for yelling at the chair (no BAD words, thank goodness) and that I shouldn't have kicked it.

I also made sure she knew that I wasn't mad at her, that I had just gotten mad at that silly chair.

Eventually, the family had a good laugh about what is now known as 'the kitchen chair incident'.

For now, I am focusing on 'breathe in, breathe out, breathe in, breathe out'. :-)

Blogging Award!

My good friend The Sports Mama was kind enough to give me a blogging award.

Head on over to her "You Don't Have to Like Me" blog to check it out!

Three Girls & a Daddy

Now that our littlest one is three months old, my wife has gone back to work.

She works on Saturdays so this past Saturday was my first day ALONE with our girls...ten, three, and three months, for those playing along at home.

Now I admit, once her car pulled off, I had a brief Macaulay Culkin in "Home Alone" moment..."AAAAAAAGGGGGGHHHHHHHH!!!!!"

However, this quickly passed and changed over to a Southwest Airlines commercial...

"Don't...leave me...with...the baby!"

Once I settled down, I remembered that I had been through this before...it was just that before there were TWO girls and now there were THREE.

I began to wonder...could I really fix a pony tail, blow a nose, and change a poopy diaper all at the same time? Could I really fix an iPod AND get the Dora website unstuck WHILE holding a baby and a bottle full of breast milk?

Which reminds me...I have never been so careful not to spill something. I don't know why...it just doesn't seem right.

"Oh noooooo, there it goes....down the sink! NOOOOOO!"

And so the morning went.

"Dad?"

"Daddy?"

"WAAAAAAH!"

"Dad?"

"Daddy?"

"WAAAAAAH!"

I was becoming brainwashed. We went to a party that night. Someone introduced themselves to me. I replied,

"Yes, Hi, I'm Dad Daddywaaah. This is my wife Mom Mommygooo."

The morning was sort of a blur...but we survived. The next thing I knew, it was 2pm and the ten-year-old had gone off with her 'other' dad, the three-year-old was taking her nap, and the three-month-old was asleep in the swing.

Ahhhh. I could finally take a minute and relax on the couch.

I had just sat down when the dog came over to me and gave me that look...you know, the one where he's saying...

"Did you notice that I need to go out?"

Just then I heard the garage door open. Not a moment too soon, I thought.

"Tell it to the judge," I told him. "I'm off duty."

Template Crash

I had a nice little Blogger template crash today. It was really my own fault but, hey, now I get to try one of these new-fangled Blogger templates.

It looks just like the old one except that I lost every single thing I had in the other template.

Do me a favor, if I had a link to your site here, and it's gone now, remind me and I will put it back.

Well, off to restore everything I can. Good times.