Hooray for the three hour nap! The Toddler came out, appropriated my keys, and is now banging them against the front door. Do you think she's starting to make a connection there?

We got yet another possible commission. I'm happy. It's another little thing that makes me feel more productive. More like I'm doing something. More like I'm not a couch-sitting bonbon-eating soap opera-watching mental patient. Because mainly, well, I prefer cold case files and CSI.

Don't laugh. It gets me through. And whatever gives you the extra strength to get through the day is a good thing. It may get morbid at times but it's not overly graphic. There is a plot. There is far less bad acting and scripting than is found on other channels [I'm looking at you, MTV!] And when I was little my mom would watch Perry Mason in the afternoons while I was playing nearby. So there's a certain continuity to this, a bonding through the generations.

I've got to go and pick up the Boy in a few moments. It's going to be all nifty. We haven't seen him since this morning, early, before even the Jimmy Dean SunMan had gotten out of bed. There will be a kiss. There will be a tickle of the Borgmonkey in the back seat. There will be much laughing.