I will begin with my most earth-shaking news (okay, my only earth-shaking news), which is ...

I'VE MADE A BETSY-TACY CONVERT!

We gave my niece Madison (daughter of my sister Megan and her soon-to-be-ex-husband, the Waste of Skin) a nice hardcover copy of "Betsy-Tacy" for her sixth birthday last month. My mother was in Denver last week, and she told me last night that while Madison appeared to like the book, her sister Abby, who turned 4 in August, is *enthralled* by it. She said Abby asked repeatedly to have someone sit down with her and go through the book, which they happily did; my mother saw her looking at it by herself at least four times, gazing intently at each photo. My mom says Abby can identify all the characters in the illustrations.

Guess who is now getting the hardcover copy of "Betsy-Tacy and Tib" that we had planned to give Madison for Christmas?

OUR WEEKEND

I have another cold, thank you. I don't know if Andrew is bringing home these germs, or if I'm picking them up from one of the editors at work, who thinks she is so immensely valuable that she comes to work even if she's coughing her lungs up, and she frequently seems to be doing so. She sits right across the aisle from me, and it's possible that her germs like to float over the two cube walls and land on me.

Anyway, this was yet another good excuse (like I needed one) not to accompany Kip and Andrew to a monster truck rally Saturday night at the Metrodome. Rather than park and walk in the cold, they caught a light-rail train at the Mall of America and rode it downtown, which only adds to the excitement when you're a 6-year-old boy.

(Let me point out that I have, in fact, attended a monster truck rally; I went to one with my ex-husband, who also once dragged me to a Spice Girls concert, which is another story entirely. So I know whereof I speak, and here's what I say: Once is enough for both of those experiences.)

But Andrew had a great time. He was full of stories when I picked them up at the transit station late Saturday night. He was also asleep within about 30 seconds of his head hitting the pillow, despite Kip's dire predictions that he'd be awake and jabbering excitedly until 4 a.m.

Earlier Saturday, Kip and my sister Jennifer and I went to see the best British commercials of the year at the Walker Art Center. We enjoyed them; we thought they were better than last year's batch. But I think the newly redesigned Walker Art Center is a dreadful building. It's all cold angles and empty space, and the part of the building that you're going to is always far, far away. I acknowledge that the old building was wee and cramped, but this place is just too industrial for my taste.

And we headed out yesterday afternoon to get a Christmas tree, but struck out at all of our regular haunts -- they apparently weren't selling them in those locations this year. We're trying again tonight.

WHAT I'M READING

I succumbed to all the hype and bought a copy of "Twilight" by Stephenie Meyer on Saturday night. (Yes, of course I went to Half Price Books and B&N while the boys were monster truckin'; why are you even asking?) I don't recall ever having an urge to read a vampire love story before, and I'm not a "Buffy" geek, but I like the book so far, except for one thing: The author suffers from a beginning-writer aversion to the word "said," which is a perfectly good word that should be used far more often in place of more stilted words like "commented" or "amended" or "pointed out" or any of the myriad substitutions that neophyte writers fling about. However, if I can move past that little peccadillo, I think I'm going to enjoy the book overall.

I'm also reading "The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time." It's been sitting on the to-read shelf for ages, and for some reason I grabbed it the other day. I like it.

OTHER FASCINATING NEWS

My sister Jennifer bought a condo in Bloomington, near the Mall of America. It's a new complex, full of glass and hardwood floors and gleaming black appliances; Jennifer says some of the condos in the two buildings go for $1 million. (She paid not nearly that much, I can assure you.) She compares her purchase to buying the worst house on a really nice street. (She's closing Dec. 28, so guess what we'll be spending New Year's Eve doing? Don't tell my knees. Or my back. I'm planning to spring it on them.)

SHUT UP, BETSY, AND GO TAKE SOME MORE COLD MEDICINE

Excellent idea.