Summer is dwindling -- weather forecast shows another two days in the 80s followed by a Saturday that won't get out of the 60s. Yikes.

Went to the dentist this morning to get a cavity filled. She numbed the upper right of my mouth leaving my upper lip to blubber about as I chit-chatted my way out of her office. I maintained those mumbles well into my late-morning conference call to the office -- bonus.

Tonight I'm going to call Steve and urge him to share bloggy tales of newly-web bliss. Better yet, I want Jenny to get on here and tell us what it's really like.

Later this week we bottle some wine we got started earlier this summer at our local kit-wine place. Cool idea: they let you come in and use their equipment to start a batch of wine, from concentrate, then let it sit in their climate-controlled rooms. Come back to decant the filtered veritas from the big glass jug into bottles we get to label and take home. Sweet. As you can see, I've been hard at work designing appropriate labels. Heh.

I know, I know, you're asking yourself how it can be period-appropriate to be wielding a baguette as a weapon at the Battle of Stirling Bridge. Just remember, the Norman Invasion had occurred over 200 years prior. The first Eurozone was already being tried!

Oh, and coconut shells were commonly found in the forests of the British Isles. They were thought to be carried there by migratory birds. Cinematic records support this theory.

So we were planning this year's block party and they asked me to come up with activities for the kids. The egg-toss and three-legged race were tempting options. I took the road less traveled and had the kids re-enact the battle scene from Braveheart.



I'm pretty sure they won't ask me again to plan activities, not for anyone, anywhere.

Great block party, though. I made a giant pan of jerk chicken. Drumsticks -- a portable meal. Others brought out a vast array of goodies. The neighborhood kids ruled the barricaded street until about 10 p.m. And the rain held off the whole time. Sweet.

I'm reading a book about the Yugo, once the cutting edge of Serbo-Croatian automotive technology. And a car that would fit into just about any NYC parking spot -- bonus.

Some people think this is funny. Not me.

Well, pardon me. I was vigorously reminded today that the villain in Bubba Ho Tep was not an alien invader. Alane and Da Chimpz seemed surprised that I would have muddled the scintillating plot line in which the elderly and infirm Elvis (with the help of a paranoid JFK) battles an ancient mummy curse.

Of course it would be that...

Tonight I want to have a campfire. Drink some port. Watch the concrete cure. That's livin.'

Mojo got Bloomberged this week. I asked him earlier in the week if he was looking forward to the new routines they give sixth graders as part of their "junior high" experience. It was characteristically pathetic to hear that the one thing that made him happiest would be the option to buy soda at lunch -- something that wouldn't have mattered to Cookie last year because he doesn't drink the stuff.

Well, imagine Mojo's disappointment yesterday when he learned there would be no more soda for sale in the cafeteria. It was like when NY changed the drinking age on me after I'd be legal for six months!

Anyway, I told them if they got straight A's I'd buy them a case of Bawls and let them take a bottle with them each day to drink with their lunch -- the stylish way to stick it to the lunch lady. And keep the classroom shaking.

The boys are downstairs right now watching Abraham Lincoln Versus the Zombies. It's about as bad as you'd think it would be. Which is about as bad as Bubba Ho-Tep, which featured Elvis fighting an alien invasion. Yeah, nothing but the classics around here.

It is increasingly difficult to get these hooligans to stand for a proper photo. (We saw similar versions of that genetic trait at Steve's wedding in May -- more photos on that should be posted here.)

Anyway, school is now in session. Well, it will be in a few minutes. Da Chimpz just made their way across the wet lawn to make their way to their, ugh, sixth and seventh grade classrooms.

Notice the torn up driveway. Cement shoes for someone, yeah! No wait...

Nights get pretty cool these days. Still Da Chimpz like to sleep in the snowglobe room. Well, maybe not for long -- tomorrow morning I throw them out of bed because it's time for... school.

It's a little sad. Watch this space for tomorrow's obligatory send-off photos.

This may (or may not) be interesting to Big Vin. But if you jump to the 27 min mark you might see a familiar stomping ground. Too bad they didn't roll film between 9th Ave and West 8th.



If we saw Philly Stink Armpits in knickers would we even recognize him?

The Olympics passed already? Didn't that crap just start? I suppose I should try to follow these things. (Why? I can't even catch a baseball game -- and that's supposedly an American sport.)

As for wine and golf, I refer you to my Youtube post of a few weeks ago -- I suspect I had already guzzled a glass (or two) of veritas before putting iron to spud on that fine evening. (But now that you describe it as Tylka protocol I will be sure to do it exactly as you describe at our next Tee Time for Tater Tots.)

And sorry to break it to you, Jenny-babe, but male Mastandrea DNA does seem to run predominantly male. Did you look around the Caravella side of the banquet hall back in May? Total sausage fest. And big eaters too. I'd be more worried about your children's appetites than their interest in sports. Forget boy versus girl -- just hope the kid is born with a spoon in his hand instead of a fork.