I'm sipping the very last of my Cinzano reserves while Da Chimpz watch the Inspector Gadget movie. I understand they're all buttoned up down at Spumoni South -- albeit without any Cinzano. How can you weather a Hurrican without red vermouth?

Today I made a fairly small batch of meatballs -- no sausage, no veal, no fancy stuff. But I did have that lovely bouquet of broccoli rabe that Alane picked up yesterday. That stuff is bitter to begin with, but this stuff was so good it made my mouth sting... yeah baby! Tomorrow I'll bring lefotvers to the office for lunch. How many people will be going getting into the office tomorrow with broccoli rabe in their lunchpails? Listening to Gorillaz. Stinking of Locatelli.

I'm much too easily distracted. I went jogging this morning before Mass. At one point I pushed the sweat off my face with my hand, only to smell... the meatballs I had just rolled and broiled. Who can exercise thinking about that? The boys get distracted too -- they've just abandoned the film -- Cookie started writing words on a page and Mojo is rifling through his library books.

I think it's my night to tell stories at bedtime. Maybe something about robots. And hurricanes. And wavy potato chips.