Now that was a lot of spine-unfriendly driving. Just got back from a day of heavy-rain highway-surfing -- my back is killing me. But since Thursday I got to spend time with many of the heaviest-hitting VIPs of our sphere:

• Stephen, who was issued on Saturday his official membership card for the universal Roman Catholic Church
• RoseAnne, who feared the typsetting on the cake was crooked (who'll notice?)
• NASCAR Joe, who grew the tomatoes that are now on the dining room table
• Gene, who drank wine with me off Union Square on Friday and a short drive later joined me in a visit to
• Mrs. Petronio, who wondered why we did not drink wine during our visit
• Julio, who offered to drink the wine in our place (not really: he was heading for the gym!)
• Guido, who grew the broccoli we ate Thursday night
• Kay, who cooked the broccoli we ate Thursday night
• my crew at the office, who kicked back with me on Friday afternoon
• and last but definitely not least, Pizza Joe, who got a surprise visit from me and put me back on the road with two pizzas, a stromboli, stuffed pepper, and instructions to tune in the Baccala Radio Network for tunes and fun (and, of course, he was correct: it was indeed fun).

Gosh, I hope I haven't forgotten anyone. I'm exhausted. And stuffed -- the soul-inspiring aroma of hot pizza tortured me as I drove until finally I rached behind me and slid a pizza box from the stack. By the time I crossed the Ohio border the box was empty.