They say if you follow the rainbow to where it ends you'll find a pot of -- monkeys. The rain let up a bit this morning and the sun peeked out. Long enough to make a nice rainbow somewhere northwest of the school parking lot.

My camera-phone takes lousy pictures so look creafully to see the tiny prism of light that seems to be bending into the gravitational pull of Cookie's giant head.

Last night I went to BJ's Wholesale Club and took their 60-day trial membership. Yes, this is a disease and it does seem to be genetic: I bought many things. And I intend to go back there tonight to buy more. And no fair asking me if I really need all that stuff. The question is irrelevant. And frankly, insulting. I have 59 more days, during which I will empty the place, one carload at a time. Be not in my way.

Blogging will return to normal when I get back to Berea-Rose later this evening. For now I am still in NYC, serving hard time at the office. Last night's dinner consisted of a pastrami sandwich from Stage Deli on Seventh Avenue. The sandwich cost $15.12. And it was bigger than Cookie's head. I ate all of it. And I still feel it. And the feeling is a good feeling.

How do you like this one? hats and hair mine on my head steves on his chest.

Goodfellas called. They cancelled the sequel.

All I can say is "yes the party was that good" My Uncle V even shared his hat. It was kind of cold in the room. They were dressed to impress and all that was missing was uncle philly.

The other day we were driving in the car and I was telling John that not one but two of Cookie's classmates from kindergarten had not moved on to first grade. I believe I said flunked--wrong thing to say in front of the little pitchers with big ears because Mojo chimes in--X (names changed to protect the innocent) flunked pre-school and isnt in kindergarten with me. Then I had to explain that they hadn't flunked but had been held back or some other politically correct speech--because I could only envision Mojo going in and having this discussion at school.

So then we begin to discuss what months our birthdays are in. Mojo knows full well that his birthday is in April but of course he says, Is my birthday soon. Which leads me to say, what month is it Mojo? Mojo's response--October. Cookie chimes in, "you are totally going to flunk kindergarten." Mojo in an effort to redeem himself then gives the response, Fall.

Yesterday I took the boys to a fall fest and they got to see a revolutionary war re-enactment which of course they loved because they are all about war things. No matter how I explain that wars are not a good thing--the fascination remains. Cookie got the idea a little better when the commander of the troops ordered the troops forward with bayonets drawn and Cookie was in the first row of spectators and almost skewered.

On the subject of restrooms--ours has please flush on the door of each stall. My thoughts on that were similar to Molly's. Then I started to wonder was there a lot of flush failure going on, so much that building management needed to be notified to post this or did someone on their own initiative post these signs?

I broke down and called a lawn service yesterday. They offered to send someone out to do an assessment. I wanted to ask them to please send someone with a sense of humor -- but the woman on the phone sounded very serious about things like weeds and insects and fertilization. These are things I haven't given much serious thought; the barren desolation outside our front door is proof of that.

Maybe I'll go sit outside now and enjoy the scenery -- the lawn looks pretty good before the sun comes up. With the coach-light still out and the darkness more or less complete, I can even pretend that some of the brush I fell underfoot is real grass, not the crabgrass and clover I know it is.

That's it: I'm petitioning the court for a permanent injunction. Mastandrea-men getting their nails done is a situation that demands equitable relief; irreparable harm has already been done. Next thing you know, they'll be waxing their leg hair!

{Imagine trying to do that to Frylock; they'd need three people to pull the wax strip away -- and the pain would probably put him into cardiac arrest.)

And speaking of lunchmeat, take a look at this slab of mortadella. We almost forgot we had this clip. (Just like we almost forget he was ever that chubby!)

Steve is correct. Something is not right at Spumoni. I thought that Uncle V being there would increase the level of masculinity within its walls. It has not. Manicures? What is this nonsense. I recall the construction of the marisa circle deck and i am not aware of anyone participating in manicures or pedicures. What has the world come to? I wonder what granpa would say if he knew? Did he take a break in his daily deliveries of ice to get a nice clear french manicure for grandma? WWGS? What Would Giuseppe Say?? Hed say.........Manicure? Get outta hear. manicure yer ass....... DO they do that too???

As for sandwiches of epic proportion. I was only about 7 and i remember Uncle Lenny taking an entire pizza and laying out genoa salami, ham, swiss,capicola,mortadella and tomatoes on top. He then folded it in half and ate it like a sandwich. Amazing..... I watched in awe hoping to someday be as powerful a warrior at the dinner table. Amazingly enough he is now 80 and still eating like that. Bow down mortals....

Interesting that Peech Un' Molly is quick to attack my once-a-day Publix habit, but neglects to mention her own personal addiction/obssession to the Publix sub. She spends each workday at the bank fantasizing that shes online at the Deli counter ordering a 6 inch Italian on Whole Wheat, and at night she dreams of laying in a bed of Publix cold cuts, wrapped in a hoagie roll. My cousin Janine often asks Molly " What is a babe like you doing with my cousin?" Well today I reveal my secret: Just before Molly arrives, I rub a dime size drop of Publix sandwich dressing on my neck...and resistance is futile.

I prefer the word "hero" over sub, or hoagie or my least favorite....the grinder. I think I just like the idea better that my sandwich has integrity and courage. The most amazing hero I have ever witnessed remains the legendary visit with Joe Fatone Sr. to John's Deli in Brooklyn. We watched in awe as a man assembled a foot long masterpiece with "some roasted peppers, some cappicola, some mozzarella in the water, a little of that eggplant parmigiana, and can you get me some of that hard provolone?" A true sandwich artist....to hell with those hacks at Subway.

OK, on to another important matter...the demasculinazation of our family patriarchs. Yes, I am refering to Uncle Vito and Big Kahuna each getting manicure and pedicure at the salon yesterday....John can you please submit a legal cease and desist order for such deplorable activities? I know it sounds minimul..but these are "real men" who once drank scotch and smoked cigarettes...they did carpentry work and plumbing, watched baseball and boxing...the model of the blue collar city worker...THESE SAME MEN DOING THEIR NAILS??

If loving Publix is wrong, then I don't want to be right.

And the ironing thing -- that's gotta be from Fatone blood because the only thing that keeps me from wearing something is the sniff-test (and even there I often grade on a curve). I recall the prep for RoseAnne's wedding -- Bazzukajoe, standing half in the hotel-room closet, working feverishly with a hand-held steamer to blast wrinkles from his suit pants.

"He doesn't want people to think he's got a topographic map drawn on his ass," was the comment I made in an attempt to be snide. But for Frylock, that just reminded him of school:

"Wow," he said. "That's like a terrible classroom assignment: 'for extra credit, please use the terms topographic map and Joey's ass in the same sentence.'"

Education is indeed wasted on the young. (And on us, apparently.)

Nutella has been a favorite of mine for more than a decade since my English buddy, Al (now deceased) introduced me to that yummy goodness while dog sitting for his two mixed breed terrors. (No, not terriers.)

I love it so much I enter the Nutella USA give away every month. It's on my Firefox bookmark toolbar. I sometimes stir it into my coffee in the morning. Okay, that's about as weird as peanut butter on mortadella, but at least I keep my weird dietary proclivities in the category of nut spreads. At least those to which I admit.

Off to start my day with coffee, the newspaper and oatmeal. It doesn't make up for any indulgences since I load it with things I like such as dried fruit and nuts, brown sugar and cinnamon. And I can make my own instant oatmeal: easy to do in the food processor and I can leave out the salt. I got started on instant oatmeal at the Castle because there was at least a case of it at the minimum.

According to the Kashi website, the Roasted Almond Crunch granola bar is

Baked with a healthy sprinkling of crunchy, roasted almonds and rich, natural roasted almond butter, our Roasted Almond Crunch granola bars have 4g of Fiber and 6g of Protein.

Sound healthy? You bet. Likely to taste like construction-grade particle board? Oh yeah. But I have a box in the closet and this week... I made something happen.

I took one of those unexciting and health-enhancing granola bars... And then I took a jar of decadent and artery-clogging Nutella and spread the stuff thickly over the little rectangles of conglomerate-rock...

And it was good.

Yeah, the health effects of each pretty much cancel out that of the other. But at snacktime, that's a secondary concern. A distant second.

You gotta love Nutella. It's like peanut butter, but with hazelnuts and cocoa instead of peanuts. And a lot of sugar. Oh baby.

If it's autumn Molly wants she should swing by Berea-Rose: I just stepped outside to get my WSJ off the driveway and felt the chill of the mid-40s air. It tells me autumn is pretty much here. Sheesh.

Right now I'm sitting at the dining room table drinking coffee while Alane makes lunches and Da Chimpz watch Gigantor on TV.

Just in case anyone is struggling today with proper pirate syntax.

Getting ready for Talk Like a Pirate day, I'd like to point you all to here and here

Yarrr! Don't forget: tomorrow is Talk Like a Pirate Day. So brush up on your ahoys and scalywags, because all of tomorrow's blogging must be ship-shape.

So i return...... after a week of 95 degree DRY HEAT. It was hot, so hot I had swamp ass before i got out of the airport. It was a beautiful place. However it did not exceed the heat qoutient of Ft. Lauderdale on the 4th of July when we saw N'Sync on the beach. So i guess there is apoint to dry heat. It was cool at night though.
I would love to know what vito would like on his chin. haha
I think i would need a wire wisk. You know in case i need to wisk.

So Molly you don't like conference calls. I need to be on 2 a week. They are amusing. We discuss what people look like while we are on mute. Not so long ago we were on a new store opening conference call and someone fell asleep. We know they were because we could hear the snoring quite loudly. Conference calls are funny. It takes time to get down the cadence of when and how to speak. I laugh at every accent and every weird fluctuation in volume. Whats funny is when people think they are on mute but they are not and they say something nasty. I love that. I always imagine what it would be like to have my dad on a conference call.

Robert DeNiro is indeed waiting... Talking Italian, no less.

I remember that contest. We should have made Frylock go last since his hair absorbed all the melted water, leaving just a pile of hard ice for Guido to push he head into. He put a towel around his neck before taking the plunge but he did not really need one.

And though we refer to it as a contest, it had no objective. Or prize. Or rationale.

That was the same week the pediatrician gave us foolproof advice on how to threaten a baby into not crying! If I recall, that advice involved a Q-Tip and a jar of petroleum jelly...

MariaRose here, reporting for doodie.

Let me begin by saying ... I'm positively ecstatic to see The Trumpet Ace has made his way to the blog! I don't think you all know this ... but we are now in the presence of the king of baritone sax. Move out of the way Kenny G, there's a new kid on the block ... or hill (if you will). Tom, I'm so glad you here to participate!

I'm typing in time to the tune of Lou Rawls' "See You When I Get There" as it is playing in the living room where the VinMan and the Vitomeister sit and talk. Actually my dad is rolling his Jet3 back and forth, closer and farther from Uncle Vito who is sitting comfortably reclined on the couch. Why am I telling you this? Well, I knew that you'd be interested. We all know that we do not exude one bit of normalcy in this family and we all share the same brain. The wise Dr. Sfingi once told me that "everything in the world is funny, but nobody realizes it until someone points it out." I believe this through and through. I say this as "Robert DeNiro's Waiting" by Bananarama now plays out of those imfamous Fischer speakers. I'll eat some eggplant to that.

I was looking at some of the pictures posted on the blog today and it got me thinking about past events. One in particular was the time Frylock, Guido, and John all stuck their heads into a full loaded ice chest. This is one memory that I feel had a missing piece ... that missing piece being BazzukaJoe. He wasn't there for this, but I'm sure he would have enjoyed it. We all know his dense head has a thermal coating that would have controlled the temperature of his head and the water, making him surpass all three of you. All it takes is one dunk, and the ice would melt the water and bring it to a boil. After seeing a sight like that, Chuck Norris would be impressed and Pat Morita would be undressed.

I remember it was some kind of contest ... but what I can't recall were the terms.
Can anyone fill me in on those?

PS: Jomaha, great job with the texting! You got it down! You made my day.

Molly, you made me wonder: if a Mastandrea could have an appendage (other than a fist) attached below their chin, what would it be?

I made the mistake of posing that question to Frylock and Little Vito last night. Not only were the collective answers indicative of severe genetic abnormality, the whole IM conversation occurred during an act of horrific camera-phone cinematography.

BTW, my appendage of choice: salad tongs. Right there, under the chin. Eat the salad while shoveling the lasagna... without having to pick up the salad fork... Talk about multi-tasking.

Poor Tom, another victim to the system...I think you should write a letter to Joe Lieberman. Although I occasionally quote the classics...you'll never catch Frylock saying "it was the best of times and the worst of times"...I avoid that crap like the Dickens. I prefer a little Walt Whitman...or maybe even a little Jack Burton " When the man has your back against the wall and he asks you in your face have you paid your dues? You just look him straight in the eye and you tell 'em what old Jack Burton always says...Yessir, the check is in the mail".

Anyway, I'm thrilled we have video evidence of my recent culinary achievements, and although Ellexa can currently already say "Mommy" and "Daddy"...I'm desperately trying to make her next spoken word"Vermicelli". I also tried to talk Jessica into putting the pizzaiola sauce in the baby's bottle..but she refused to agree to it. So did you hear Uncle V in the background say aloud "pastaciotto"? That footage is classic.

Also wanted to comment on this whole notion of 120 degrees of "dry heat" being more cooler than 90 degrees with high humidity . People, a pizza oven uses dry heat...to cook a stromboli and well-done Sicilian pie. Anyway, time for me to return to work. Thanks again to John for posting the Ellexa video..and making us famous on Youtube.

I reached Frylock by telephone on Sunday. He was so excited about the pizzaiola he was making that he could hardly speak; the phone call ended quickly for that reason. I seriously doubted that what he was making could really be that good. But this video eliminates all suspicions. I was wrong to doubt.

Yeah, Tommy, I think we know how you feel. We've all experienced chafing around the Dickens. It's to be expected... All part of growing up.

Very rainy lately in the Cleveland area (though the boys' football practice was emphatically not cancelled by the rain).

I have been drinking coffee since 5:30 a.m. and do believe I need yet another cup. I may start to vibrate soon.

Oh, Charles Dickens, you crazy, CRAZY fool.

In English, we're currently reading Great Expectations, written by Charles Dickens. This book makes me want to claw my eyeballs out, grind them into a soup, and sip at this dinner delight. I really, really can't stand it.

This story has quite a bit of plot twisting and turning, and I think the plot itself is great. I won't deny that Dickens is a master of foreshadow, and that it IS wonderful, but...The book itself. It's so WORDY. There's so much...Nothing. I mean, there are parts where the main character, Pip, simply gazes out the window, and it tells everything he sees...And that's it. He just sits there. Looking out the window. And he talks and talks and talks about the guy with the red shirt that just walked by. I don't care about the guy in the red shirt. If this isn't going to be of importance later, I really don't want to know.

I'm not a creative guy. My mind works on logical things, making connections from one idea to the next, constantly stirring. It bores me to have a kid just sitting there...doing nothing but looking out a window. I'm just having trouble appreciating it. Maybe I'll like it better when I'm looking to relax. Maybe when I'm eighty, and that's what I'm doing with my probably boring life. But...Right now...in ninth grade...I just can't...do it. It doesn't work. I can't take it. These are not the droids you are looking for. These are not the droids I am looking for.

Not to mention that my English teacher is a nutjob. I mean, he tries to make these jokes, and it'd all be good, except...They're not funny. At all. Everyone makes bad jokes from time to time, and a lot of people make bad jokes ALL the time. Connelly here, however, is not quick enough to pull them off. He'll make an attempt at it, but he just can't seem to phrase it right. It got really on my nerves.

And with that, I end my rant. Have a nice day, everyone. ^_^

-Tom

I knew it had been some time since I last blogged when I was stumped by my password. However, after my second attempt I hit upon it and was able to enter the magic kingdom.

My time recently has been filled with all things school related for the chimps. First it was the search for the school supplies--this was some sort of surreal scavenger hunt where I was suppose to be able to find 12 red pencils and something called "Laddie" pencils (with no erasers no less). I wanted to do this all at one store, however this ended up being a three store, internet event and I still was unable to find all items. My favorite item was the clear contact paper. I was not sure they even sold it anymore--thank goodness for Walmart. The helpful staff not only knew what it was but was able to send me to the kitchen shelf linings aisle to find it. After that amazing adventure it was on to uniform hunting for Cookie. Now, in the school's infinite wisdom, they decided to dress little boys in white polos shirts. Here I could have really used the expertise of John's dad and Uncle Vinny as I refused to pay more than $ 7.00 for a shirt that would be worn once and stained forever. I believe by shopping all the circulars I was able to buy about 10 such shirts all under the $ 7.00 mark and promising various stain guards. (I falsehood if I ever saw one).

As shown by photos we have placed both boys happily in school and the year seems to be going well. Though Cookie did say he couldnt wait for summer vacation. Mojo during his first week of school insisted on dressing in a uniform just like Cookie. All the way down to the black dress shoes. As John was out of town, and I was not going to go to war over this, I allowed this. Upon completion of dressing his comment was, "Now let's see who's the big guy." On top of it, the similar dressing caused all kinds of confusion with little girls walking up to Mojo on the playground and asking if he was Cookie. And later at dismissal the teachers thought they had lost him because they mistook him for Cookie.

On top of school, as John as mentioned, the boys have started flag football. As has been reported, Cookie scored a touchdown and Mojo pulled a flag--It was my brother Joe's birthday and I'm sure he was looking down from above getting a good laugh out of them and cheering them on.

Just a brief comment on the dry heat--I'm a big believer in it up to a point. Like once you hit 90 and above I dont think it matters. However, in 80 degrees of dry heat, you can manage to stay outside and hike or bicycle. If its 80 and humid the only place you will find me is in a pool or by an air conditioner.

I am happy to see another cousin hit the blog. Welcome Tom....I am off tomorrow at the crack of dawn and flying to Scottsdale Arizona for conference. With a recent promotion i must now head out for training. I often wondered if it was possible to travel somewhere even hotter than where we live? If one more person says BUT ITS A DRY HEAT. I swear i am gonna give someone a full nelson. Or possible a small red box with an executive log. Whats the difference? Hot is hot. Well i wasn't happy being miserable alone so i asked STeve to arise tomorrow at 4:30 am to drive me to the airport. So i go. I will try to blog if the hotel has a business center. Of course it will be PC.

P.S.: Ucle Vito is quite possibly the funniest guy in Jupiter. When he and my dad enter an establishment of any kind whispers are uttered and finger pointing ensues. They are not labeled throughout Palm Beach as the most difficult client. No matter what store.

And just how does one attain the status "trumpet ace"? (And no fair answering the question with another question, like "where does one study to obtain their doctorate in sfingi?")

I like Steve's story. As I think upon it, I mutter to myself: "What's in the basket?"

Oh, well look who it is! It's...ME. Your Trumpet Ace reporting from all the way up here in Connecticut. The Nutmeg State. Or something like that. I don't really know.

I saw this blog a long long time ago, but never really kept up with it. From time to time I'd check, but eventually fell out of touch. Then...I got an invitation. And now I'm a happy panda.

I'm not really sure what to blog at this point, but I'm sure something interesting will come up. Let's get this shizzle rollin'!

-Tom

I've said it before but I'll say it again "THIS BLOG NEEDS AN ENEMA!!" Due partially to my laziness (as well as the likes of BazzukaJoe, Ree, Merle, Peech Un'Molly and Vito C.) for weeks now, John and Ellie have been carrying this blog alone...and so today I join them in the good fight.

Anyway, I start off by mentioning how awesome it has been with Uncle V, he has definitely added a new ingredient to the Spumoni Gardens Dynamic. Thanks to the Big Kahuna and Marie, Uncle Vito now has manicured fingernails, a tan complexion and extensive wardrobe of Polo and Tommy Hilfiger. He not only looks like a million bucks...but I'm pretty sure he carries it in his pocket in tens and twenties. I discovered this today on our trip to Publix when at the cashier and he pulled out a wad of cash that should only be carried around by a Brinks truck ...he brought it to buy Italian Sausage with SunDried Tomato. The man is fascinating. And of course, the brothers have some shared family traits, I watched them not just reading...but studying the Sunday newspaper ads for the different retailers and mapping this week's shopping excursions for maximum efficiency. I have to say his decision to join his brother down south was a good one.

So let's see what else is worth mentioning? Yesterday, Vin had me remove all the miniature pinwheels from Ellexa's room and relocate them to his grotto around the statue of the Blessed Mother...thus renaming her Mary, the Patron Saint of Pinwheels.

I also have a crap story...actually its perhaps the most unimaginative practical joke I've ever seen...which also happens to be a crap story. Earlier in the week, a few teenage customers were in the store when one of them used the shop restroom (which is clearly a common and frequent event), however I did notice although he entered the bathroom empty handed, he left holding a small red box. The box was clearly not a piece of store merchandise, so I guessed it was maybe a greasy auto part that he did not want making a mess...in fact maybe he used the bathroom to wash his hands and now he was going to inquire about replacing this particular part. Instead of approaching me to speak about it, he quickly exits the store, hands the box to his friend, who in turn walks it over and places it inside the rear door of a SUV full of teenagers parked out front. Intrigued, I followed out front to see their reaction. Instantly, the drivers and passengers of the parked SUV jump out amidst shrieks of disgust and terror. The SUV's driver, now outside the vehicle, opens the box top and pulls out a clear ziploc bag containing a full blown executive log. He drops it back in the box and closes the top, he then looks at everyone in disbelief and says very seriously "Now, thats fucked up." Indeed. I asked him to kindly put in the dumpster and keep it away from my establishment..."and the next time your buddy has to relieve himself, tell him theres a Hess station just up the block". Another bizarre footnote to this story: after tossing the shitbox in the rear dumpster, the victim of the joke shared with me an unusual observation he had made "you know there droplets of water in the plastic bag...I think that guy reached in the toilet and pulled that turd out!" At that point, even though I shuold have been angry and as unimaginative the practical joke was...I finally had to start laughing. I was right, that guy was watching filth off his hands caused by the contents of that box...I just miscalculated what was inside.

Finally, I made a splendid pizzaiola sauce today that had universal approval...including Miss Ellexa who shouted in furious anger anytime Jessica even slowed down while feeding her vermicelli. She also banged her head hard on the tile floor and only cried for about 30 seconds. Hard skull and a penchant for macaroni on Sunday....is this kid a text-book Mastandrea or what?

Last night we went to BJ's Wholesale with Joe and Jean. We wanted to stock the house with bulk provisions. And boy, did we stock up. Now we're ready for when Kim Jong Il sends the big one over!

(Yeah, not a particularly funny comment, but Bazzukajoe, that virtuoso of bad-taste, has inspired me with his cruise-ship advice to Big Vin: "Try not to annoy Marie too much or you might get Klinghoffered." The man is insane.)

One upshot of last night's giant grocery haul: there is right now a mega-batch of meatballs simmering on the stovetop. I got started at about 9 a.m. with a larger-than-I-thought package of ground meat (beef, pork, veal). I trasnformed them into small, dark-brown pearls of enjoyment, and then drowned the whole lot with the contents of a 6-lb can of tomato puree.

I got enough red sauce to feed the Red Army (for when they get here).

And speaking of playing offense, Cookie and Mojo played their first actual game of flag football yesterday. And they both made great plays! Cookie ran the ball in for his team's only touchdown! And Mojo, who played center for the first half, plucked the flag off the other team's ball-carrier in the second half. The game ended in a 6-6 tie and I think everyone went home happy.

Remember when Alane had the bizarre experience of being rebuffed when offering to help out at the local animal shelter? Well no wonder she didn't get any satisfaction! Turns out pound protocol calls for punching a cop in the head -- to show your disdain for the fee arrangement!

Ohioans must be very forgiving indeed.

Their flag football careers are starting to take shape -- last night Cookie and Mojo played their first scrimmage. Mojo played center! Cookie executed a successful hand-off! Tomorrow: their first actual game.

I also need to take down that friggin tent in the back... Lots of crap to catch up on this weekend.

The Navy Blue Angels performed over Lake Erie over the weekend; we drove out there yesterday with Cookie to check them out (Mojo bailed out, opting to hang with his grandparents instead).

Them jets is loud!

We got ourselves some cheap seats (free) outside the airfield on an embankment off the E. 9th Street exit of Route 2 -- we sat in the grass and watched some wacky aerobatics. Most cool: watching one jet finish a maneuver and head, flat-out, toward the open lake edging in and out of supersonic speed, getting that wacky vapor-bubble jets get when they break the sound barrier... No idea what the technical term is for that, but I found a web page describing it, so here comes the science.

Right now it's back to work... Wonder what Frylock is doing at Blackouts this afternoon?

Today we do real BBQ. . .the Brinkman smoker is heating up and perfuming the air with hickory smoke. There are Wimmer's weiners, pork chops and pork loin heading towards the low, slow cooking that is real barbeque. . .not that we have anything against grilling, but we do love our Q!

I am posting the four rubs we are using to The Table.

We hope that each and every one of you is enjoying this holiday and especially Vito as this is his first Labor Day as a retired USPO worker!

Under the "huh?" category:

I was stung by a honey bee a week ago Thursday while mowing. Apparently the bees posted an "A-P-Bee" on me so this past Thursday I was stung by a whole swarm of bees while mowing. That, of course, is not the thing that makes one scratch one's head in wonder.

I had an allergic reaction to the bee stings which included itching, redness and swelling around the stings. The prescription medicated lotion that I am using says to stop using the product and call your doctor if itching, redness or swelling occur while using this product as they are signs of an allergic reaction.

Makes sense doesn't it? NOT

The Brits crack me up -- their food, their justice system, their constant playfulness. And you know hilarity must be afoot when the local constable explains:

Before this incident took place a fair amount of alcohol had been taken.

A comment like that is the practical equivalent of a Good Housekeeping seal of comic approval -- couple it with the fact that the story revolves around a bucket of vomit and life just doesn't get much better.

Da Chimpz are getting dressed upstairs; in a short while I will hustle them off to school. Yesterday at this time we were sitting at the dining room table with Cookie writing his name and circling certain letters and me watching an online lecture in order to rack up the credit hours I need to maintain my law license. And I thought to myself: we're both doing our homework!