The roast beef and the turkey are out of the oven. That can only mean one thing: storm preparations are complete. The roasted meat, Steve reminds me, is in case the electricity goes out. He suspects it works like the old potato trick, where you stick the electrodes into a potato to run a small light bulb. The beef is the positive charge, the turkey negative. Makes sense to me.

Aside from that, I still find myself telling people about the grilling we did at Spumoni on my last evening there last week: the roast beef, the sausage, the peppers, the zucchini... the beets. And then, in the boxes I carted back to Berea-Rose from RoseAnne's place I found this priceless photo. Shot from the backyard of 1522, looking toward the backyard of 1526, I have to date this photo somewhere in the early 1970s. I remember having that striped shirt -- was I six? Seven? This pic may even predate Bazzukajoe!

And I remember that table with the canopy. Unfortunately, it's hard to make out the food on the table -- we probably scarfed it all by the time the camera was brought out. And how about that television? Wanna bet Don Vito watched the Yankees al fresco that afternoon?

We just visited the folks in Spumoni South via phone. They are battening down the hatches, cleaning up the yard and getting settled in with their supplies so that they can meet and greet Ernesto in style.

John, your post made us both laugh out loud. Thanks.

With tropical storm Ernesto bearing down on Spumoni South, I can only assume that Marie has already stocked up on batteries, Vin-man on salty snacks, Bazzukajoe on peanut butter. From the relative safety of Berea-Rose, I can only think of the wonderful potential for a silver lining (if a hurricane cloud can have a silver lining): there now exists a chance, infinitesimal though it may be, that one day this season we will actually see Jim Cantore interviewing Don Vito and we will finally get to hear someone say to Cantore on-air, "Aaaaagh, yer ass."

Talk about great moments in television!

Rob Lopicola will be kicking himself for retiring too early.

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.

Okay, and now it's Mojo's turn.

As we drove the very short distance to the school, we fondly recalled Cookie's first day last year -- and Mojo laughed his evil laugh over Cookie having forgotten his lunchbox on the schoolbus. We told him that wasn't nice.

Once in the classroom he immediately starting playing with his classmates and apparently forgot that Alane and I were even there. We slunk away.

Wow. Those are t-shirt photos. Thats impressive. I love when labels are mispelled. How did that get by? Then again there is the cock soup package Ree purchased. I am always fascinated by the cut rate imitations of the expensive cereals. The look the same but cannot have the same name. Krisp Rice-Matey o's-Extra raisin. was that 1 extra raisin? I always see the best ones in Wal-Fart of which they just built a massive supercenter a few miles away. 2 weeks ago we were all in Longboat Key. All of us. A family getaway that was long overdue. A nice weekend. We made breakfast, we burned spaghetti, we watched movies on the wall (love media projectors), and we flew a giant kite. I actually got air. Nikoles was chased by a flock of birds out
for his cookie. The water was perfect and we got to see a manatee. Broadway had a beach house opposite us and his parents had one one house over. It was about 60 feet to get to a pristine white sand beach with trees and benches. Even Big Vin took a dip in the salty ocean.

Don Vito has been known to purchase off-brand merchandise (understatement of the year?). Cleaning out the refrigerator last week I felt compelled to document for posterity the label of this particular jar of brine... And no, I don't normally proofread the pickles. But somehow this particular idiom of trade dress seemed to fit very nicely with the Castle decor. And the 30-year-old stinky balloons (another bag successfully unearthed!).

I was also intrigued by the sandwich place I saw in Terminal D of Hopkins Airport. "Sausage Kingdom" sounds way too much like the name of a film one might find in the lesser-visited corner of the adult video section (do those even exist anymore?). In any event, it appears to be a franchise chain -- one that I never heard of before (I should get out more often). I did not partake, as I was already sipping a tall Starbucks, cursing TSA.

It's time for all good gorillas to go to school... Can summer really be over already? The evenings and mornings have felt absolutely autumnal, with the cool air and the wet grass and the clear skies.

So Cookie got dressed this morning in his new uniform clothes -- not quite as oppressive as we had it back in Brooklyn, with the long pants and the tie. He looked like quite the little Pink Floyd "We Don't Need No Education" zombie as he marched down the driveway. I can picture Cookie at an old-style boarding school... Eh, scratch that. No I can't. Maybe Mojo. He's more the brooding type who you'd find serving hard time at Clongowes Wood. And ultimately at Wormwood Scrubs.

"Once upon a time and a very good time it was there was a moocow coming down along the road and this moocow that was coming down along the road met a nicens little boy named baby tuckoo...."

In addition to being doomsday, tomorrow is also Cookie's first day of 1st grade. So we only had time for one story tonight. Bright and early I intend to walk into his room and throw him out of bed. Maybe I'll put batteries into that old alarm clock -- the one that plays reveille and screams "wake up, rise and shine!" in a really obnoxious voice.

Let's see, who did I last wake up in that manner...?

Uncle Joe thinks my dreams are bizarre. I can't argue with him on that. He should also meet my friend Andre -- he's had some pretty good dreams too. Little did he know his experience would have been a valid cause of action in China. The pro hac vice motions would've been a real pain in the ass, I'm sure.