They Probably Had To Bring In Firefighters From Texas to Put Out That Chicken

Here in Saint Plotniko, the extra hour we all gained last night gives great dividends. Shmaurel Canyon is empty at 8am, make that 7am, and so is the computer place and the orange juice place. The sky is already blue with white clouds -- it will be a gorgeous day in the Basin of Dreams today.

JJ-aka-pp, Ivan showed up on crutches last week -- cracked kneecap and torn ligaments. The Great PD sprained his ankle last week and one week later is still limping around, using a cane a little bit, but reports it is much better. The swelling is going down. Thank you all for asking.

Baby Isabella motors around the house these days, though by the time P and D arrived yesterday, she hadn't had her nap and was a little sleepy. Poor Mischief's right rear foot splays a little to the right these days, and Plot kept stepping on it. Mischief didn't seem to notice but Plot kept going "WAOOO-OOOOO SORRY SORRY!"

Grandma Joy babysat last night while Punk and Five went to see the new Denzel Washington movie. Duck and Plot took Mummy P for some bad Indian food. Plot knew they were in for trouble when the waiter/owner said "Beer? You want beer? I bring you special" and brought two already opened enormous-sized strange looking bottles to the table. Plot tried to protest: "we just want regular sized beers, we don't need these barrels," but, of course, someone not-to-be-named at the table said "But HONNNNNEY, he already OPENED them! He can't take them BACK NOW!" Eight bucks each.

Plus, the lamb was so salty it had to be returned and the flames must still be leaping from the tandoori where they incinerated the chicken. How about the nan bread? It was like burnt frisbees.

But none of that matters. Today it's Baby I's birthday. Can you believe it? One year ago today and all this has happened in only one year?