Ah, Sunday: the rain appears to be over (for now); the meatballs are simmering in liquidy-red goodness; da chimpz wil soon come in from their bike ride to don their Cub Scout attire and hit the noon Mass -- which will be followed by the Pack's end-of-year picnic.

Then we'll come home and make the pizza Cookie has been hounding me for all week. He was surprised when I told him yesterday "get your shoes on, we're going to Giant Beagle." He seemed to think that someone else should go to the supermarket and get the raw materials for his pizza. And then, when we got back home with the goods, he lasted only a few minutes bowl-side. After pouring the wets onto the dries and switching on the mixer he asked "can I go watch Tom and Jerry now?"

Such is the attention span of an eight-year-old.

Well anyway, I got a big heap of angry dough cooling its heels in the basement fridge. That stuff will be sprung later on -- sauce will be spread, meatballs will be smashed, and cheese will be sprinkled. Yum.

For my birthday I got a Steve Irwin action figure. Press his shirt pocket and he says "Crikey!" I say "Freaky."