Your Little Hoodrat Friend

It's been a strange week around these parts. I caught a nasty chest cold from the girls last weekend, but it really got bad the last few days. Lots of coughing up phlegm and stuff like that. Very enjoyable. Haven't tried running yet, even though my legs feel okay. My right little toe still looks pretty disgusting, but it doesn't hurt anymore. I may try to do something in the next few days.

The real weirdness took place late Friday when Deb went upstairs to bed and I heard a yelp on the monitor. She came running downstairs and said a bat or a bird had flown past her in our bedroom. Our bedrooms are in a converted attic, so it was certainly possible that a critter had gotten in from outside. She took the kids downstairs and I went up armed with a cookie sheet and a plastic bag to look for the creature. I found nothing, but decided to go back up in the morning when it was light out to conduct a full search. We slept downstairs, and in the morning I went back up and again found nothing. There are a lot of nooks and crannies up there in our bedrooms, but I wasn't able to draw it out. I'm pretty sure it was a bat, just because a bird would have tried harder to get out and would have made a lot of noise, especially in the a.m. Last night, I slept upstairs with the kids, keeping the hall light on and a broom nearby in case anything decided to start flying around. Still nothing.

You wanted the best, you got the best:

• The Stanley Cup finals are set: Edmonton vs. Carolina. The games start Monday. I'd like to see a seven-game series, and while I'm rooting for the Oilers because they've been such an underdog, I would not be disappointed to see the Hurricanes win.
• I've said it before: I'm glad I'm not out there on the dating scene. Especially when you've got women getting together with cobras.
• A job even scarier than Spinal Tap drummer is Grateful Dead keyboardist: Vince Welnick died this week, becoming the fourth Dead keyboardist to end up, well, dead.
• The power of Christ compels Pat Robertson to leg-press 2,000 pounds. Riiiiiiight.