Wow, wow, wow. I know it LOOKS like I've been nothing but a layabout since mid-September, but really, really, I've been working my ass off. Really. Really.

I hope I can devote more time to blogging later in the week. In the meantime, here are some high points:

We're going to see Simon and Garfunkel tonight!!! I never in a million years expected that I would be able to write that sentence. I have adored them since I discovered them as a high-school sophomore and the school's yearbook adviser, an aging hippie, revealed a stash of S&G vinyl when we all met at his house one day. Wow, wow. Simon and freakin' Garfunkel. I can't get over it. Yes, we'll each be buying an overpriced t-shirt. Bet your ass. Try and stop us.

I'm actually working. As a process server. It's more damn fun; I started a week and a half ago and already I appear to be a raging success at it. I've served people who have been ducking the other process servers for weeks. Apparently I have a guileless enough face that nobody minds opening their doors to me. Then SURPRISE! Your ass has been served! Have a nice day! Just in the last week, I've tracked down a woman who refuses to abide by a court-ordered visitation agreement and served a sexual harassment lawsuit on a guy at a bar in St. Paul. I love this. I'm obviously an evil, evil person at heart.

VH-1 should have left well enough alone. Kip and I loved the first "I Love the '80s." We are less than thrilled with the second installment. And someone needs to kill Donal Logue, whoever the hell HE is when he's at home. What a waste of skin.

"Sex and the City" still rocks. Being HBOless, we started watching the entire series at midsummer, and we've worked our way up to the second disc of the third season. John Corbett has just showed his fine self, and my, he's filthy cute. God bless America and God bless Netflix.

Andrew is speaking in entire sentences and likely will be ready for Harvard sometime next month. He still says "mickits" for "music," and "motincycle" for "motorcycle," but he's quit saying "why whys" for "French fries." He does, however, yell "Fry fries!" from the back seat whenever we pass a McDonald's. He is the smartest peanut in the universe, not to mention the cutest. I'm still trying to work up my courage to take him in for a haircut; three out of every four people who catch a glimpse of his angelic blond curls mistake him for a girl.

I'll leave it at that. I promise -- more later this week. XOXO