Finished reading Heat Wave by "Richard Castle" tonight. I know the fun of mystery novels is that the reader is constantly trying to figure everything out before the end of the book. Well, I didn't quite get there, but that's fine. Mostly I just love thinking about how all the sex and kisses in the book reflect the "author" who couldn't get it from his "real inspiration". Oh Castle, you sly ghost-written bastard . . .

Now I shall have to read Naked Heat whenever it is that I can.

In other news, I ended up getting Matthew a book about "The A to Z of Hockey" (y'know, "D is for Defensemen..." kinda stuff), and a little hoodie that says "Lock Up Your Daughters" on the front - allegedly he's a bit of a skirt chaser at daycare. Should be good for laughs.

Aaaaaand . . . here's the closest picture to a smile as I could get from him (and his dad)!

Today was fun. But tomorrow I open at work. So I shall be off now. Cheers.