After El Yo arrived home from his latest jaunt, I got him to watch Jason X: Tits in Space with me. For those of you keeping track, I watched it twice in the space of a week and was surprised not a bit to find myself dreaming Sunday night, of being chased around a spaceship and a campground, simultaneously, by an unseen yet very homicidal maniac. These are hints that your brain is listing too far to one side. The only known cure?

A Very Brady Sequel.

Please note that neither of the above are any of the following: translation of French historical aphasia papers, studying neurogenic communication disorders, writing up a PD verbal fluency grant proposal or the finishing up of two knit bunnysuits.


That's right, two. The fertility, oh the fertility.

In completely unrelated news: Oh yes. Lucky then that I need to make the uber-chocolate tart for a going-away party tomorrow. It's four layers of chocolate chaos: chocolate pie crust, pecan-caramel stickiness, chocolate mousse and chocolate ganache. The type of culinary project that destroys your kitchen and gives the rabbits a contact high.

The party starts in my kitchen in t-minus 4 hours. The aphasia, he will have to wait until tomorrow.