If you had a chance to flip through Monday's New York Times "Giving" section you might have noticed a picture of Grace in an article about organizing relief for victims of Hurricane Katrina entitled Internet Matchmaking: Those Offering Help and Those Needing It. The online version of the story, unfortunately, doesn't show her photo, and I know you've probably seen enough people wearing one of my goddamned t-shirts, but Grace chose to wear her "Writing Well is the Best Revenge" Boob Billboard for her photo session and I couldn't be prouder. The relief effort is far from over, so if you haven't given already hop on over to Grace's Direct Relief blog to see what you can do.

I suppose it's time I followed my own advice, because I still haven't given any money for Katrina relief. After New Orleans turned into a vast saltwater swimming pool I, perhaps rather stupidly, was busy writing checks to (a) my high school, (b) my local public radio station for airing NPR's extraordinary, week-long coverage of John Roberts' Supreme Court grillings, and (c) Doctors Without Borders for everything they do for people on this earth who face pain, illness, and death without the bleakest hope that an entity even half as incompetent as FEMA will ever lumber to the rescue.

Of course, the real tragedy is that my month-long "post-infectious" cough has been joined by a bossy little sinus headache, stuffed-up ears, and lots of mouth breathing. And my period. I can think of nothing more attractive than a sunburned, sneezing, perpetualy irritated woman in a Wicked Weasel with a sanitary pad spilling out of it. No, actually I just wear the top with a pair of board shorts and hang on to my water wings until it seems appropriate (and we start watching the clock at 3:30) to order a mojito.

You don't care. Why would you want to read about my vacation? You just want to see the pictures. Well, here are a few.