Obviously, it's your ovaries...

So Clare and I, having now compared notes on the modern medical establishment, have decided to write a novel, a novel entitled Obviously, it's your ovaries!. It shall be annoyingly self-referential, narcissistic and crazy. It's either going to be the most hilarious thing I've ever written, or the worst book in the world. No matter which way it turns out, I'm pretty okay with it.

Also, the museum and ADHD cousin child, huge success! Well, except for the fact that he is apparently terrified of stuffed beavers. I don't know what this says about his future.

I like it dry and sharp

Oh man, today is one of those days. I'm so going home at six and opening the bottle of Riesling my grandfather gave me for Christmas.

Today seals the deal, I am so going to Mon Ami on Friday and buying like two bottles of white Catawba and some pale cream sherry.

I think it's going to be a year for wine. Lots and lots of wine.