And on another note…

I would have liked to have had some articulate post about how martinis do not agree with me, regardless of the miss-measurement, or how "Heroes" t00b-tacularness dwarfs my significance to my very own household, or how fatpuppy or bipolarexplorer are brilliant shiny people, or how this weekend in Boston [much like my week in London] has made me rethink my political position on pirates. . . etc. etc. etc. at 4:15 am I arrived home from a night out to found a feverish 5-year-old in my bed. Grace rolls over towards me, in no way awake, and announces as clearly as anything "Val, the reason Sponge-Bob isn't real is because sponges don't talk" and promptly falls asleep in the crook of my arm.


Odd as this life has been to me, it's been a good one.


Happy belateds erinfinnegan