Look! Look upon the World's Most Adorable Nephew, and be in awe! Is he not adorable, in his dinosaur costume! ISN'T HE???? WELL?????


I finally got the damn radiology article I was working on out of my system. It had me stumped, and I was convinced it was a piece of crap. Then I sent it to Jane so she could tell me what was wrong with it, fully prepared for her to chastise me for my stupidity, tell me she would never hire me again, and sever all ties with me. She called a few hours later to tell me she loved it, it was just what she wanted, and I need not fear.

You know what this means, of course: Jane is losing her mind. I blame the drugs. Or maybe the South Beach Diet. (Note to anyone who knows Jane: There are no drugs. That I know of. But the diet... that's still suspect.)

This was a much more sober weekend (in that it did not involve tequila shots. I'm taking suggestions for different shots I can do when/if the occasion rises. Someone -- Dawn? -- suggested kamikazes, which sounds promising. Two that will not even be considered -- Jagermeister and Flaming Sambuca. Arghh.)

Wait, let's try this again. A much more sober weekend, with dinner at Christine and Brian's, where we were all distressingly adult, then delivering cookies and hanging out on Saturday with Dawn and Tripp, Trish and Amy Dale. Dinner at Sunshine -- oh, how I miss Sunshine Cafe! -- and assorted silliness. Life is good.

Sunday I got a call from Angie and Keith:

Me:Hello?
Angie: It's better to burn ooooouuuuuttttt... than to fade awaaaaaaaaaaaaay...
Me: thanks for sharing.
Angie: Keith has something to say to you.
[phone noises]
Keith: Those cranberry white chocolate biscotti things are fucking good!
Me: I'm fucking glad you fucking liked them. What did you think of the kibble?
[uneasy silence]
Keith: Um, well, I'm not much into ginger cookies....
Me: [icy calm]: Could you put Angie back on the phone,please?
Keith: Uh-oh.
Angie: Um, yes?
Me: DUMP HIM IMMEDIATELY! I DON'T CARE ABOUT THE FREE BEER ANYMORE! HE DOESN'T RESPECT THE KIBBLE! BOW TO THE KIBBLE!
Angie: Yipe! Ok, calm down -- the kibble is stealthy. It sneaks up on you. I didn't understand the joy that was the kibble when I first tasted it, and now it's like crack. Give him time.
Me: OK, but you better whip him into shape.
Angie: Will do.

Let that be a lesson to you all. RESPECT THE KIBBLE! THE KIBBLE IS YOUR MASTER! THE KIBBLE WILL RULE THE WORLD! BWAH-HAH-HAH-HAH-HAH!

Ah, I love Christmas. Nothing like the season of comfort, joy, peace, goodwill and world-domination by tiny gingery crack-nuggets to make me feel all warm and fuzzy.