The next time I want to trick you into eating a raw egg, I know just how I'm going to do it -- I will hide it in cookie dough. Yes, I'm baking again. It's that damned Neiman Marcus cookie recipe, it haunts me like the theme to a television show about a suburban witch. (You're so clever, you got my very subtle Paul Lynde reference. I really want to see this one: "Episode 190: Super Arthur. After tangling with Dr. Bombay, Arthur becomes everything he thinks of, including Superman.") I am making time in my life to do things I want to do and everyone will just have to deal with it. Mostly this means my constant companion, the Nut, who will soon be awake and want a cookie, and before I know it he'll be a 100-pound kindergartener like those kids they interview for articles about weight-loss summer camps, who say things like, Yeah, I like it when my mom uses both chocolate and butterscotch chips in my blueberry pancakes.

Also, I will warn you now that I am becoming very fond of hiding links in photographs, so be sure to click Paul's picture below to learn of The Sad Death of Paul Lynde.