I'm watching Sopranos now; just finished watching last week's. The ICU scenes don't seem realistic without a provolone hanging over the bed.

Back in Tuckahoe, the trains pass much closer. I got the boys crew-cuts yesterday -- they look good. Cookie even got some amorous across-the-aisle attention from a female classmate at Mass yesterday evening. And Mojo -- that kid is shot. He gives me a hard time when I tell him we're sleeping at the new house instead of his grandparents' -- and yet within the last week he threatened to trade both of them away:

First, to pay for a hypothetical speeding ticket, he offered to turn in his grandmother.

Next, at dinner last night, he declared that he needed he needed a new grandpa -- one that could throw fire.

That kid is shot.