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.)