Nutrition

I like the mystery books of Douglas Preston and Lincoln Child. They publish one book a year together (except for last year, which sucked) starring Special Agent Aloysius Pendergast, a type of Sherlock Holmes who solves unsolvable murders, battles his evil-genius brother, and rarely goes by the book. It's brain candy, and my brain is very hungry for candy.

Their new book is called Cemetery Dance, a title so candy-coated that I think my frontal lobe just got a cavity. I'm not giving away anything not revealed on the dust jacket, but in the first chapter a regular character is murdered with a butcher knife by a man...WHO'S SUPPOSED TO BE DEAD! Slurp, goes my brain.

If only Lyla would allow me time to read. Today I woke up before 6:00 and took care of Julie, who's been sick the past two days. Then I crept down to the livingroom, poured a cup of coffee and a bowl of cereal, and basked in the knowledge that yesterday Lyla awoke at 8:30.

But two bites of cereal, three sips of coffee, and four paragraphs later, Lyla's internal clock went kablooie. "Squawk squawk!" she said from her crib.

Oh well. Hanging out with her is more brain-nutritious anyway.