Well, I didn’t even get a chance to start up my traditional Grand Slam ChandaWatch. She lost in the first round 6-4, 6-4, to someone named Maria Vento-Kabchi. (She’s got tendonitis in her right shoulder, but still — Maria Vento-Kabchi?)

Thanks to the folks, blogger and otherwise, who showed up for my going-away dinner Saturday at India Palace. It’s always good to spread the chicken tikka massala gospel. And thanks to Kelly for visiting this weekend, as well as for her promise (now publicly recorded) to start posting to her site again.

Me, I’m busy canceling utilities and shuffling forms and forwarding mail and packing clothes and generally running around like that proverbial chicken sans tête. I was planning on driving down to Louisiana early tomorrow night, but now I find out my fantasy football draft is scheduled for 7 p.m., which means I need to be close to a computer. And since my team, the Bobby Heberts, are the league’s reigning champeens, I’ve got a reputation to live up to. So tonight, instead of packing, I’ll be printing draft cheat sheets and ranking NFL defensive backs 1 to 60. Makes sense.

Final warning: only a few days left before this year’s Frog Festival. Plan your lives accordingly.

25 August 2003

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