This morning over breakfast, Erik got himself into some very big trouble. I don't know what he was trying to do. He stated, "Wow. You're 30, with a 10-year-old stepson."

The 10-year-old stepson part is not a problem. But why are we rounding up my age? I am still well into my 20s, for a good seven months yet. That is most of a year.

You don't round up. Everyone knows that.

He found a picture the other day, that has been lying on the dining room table ever since, of Doogie and me from 1994.

I know I need a haircut. And thanks to Topamax, my new anticonvulsant, I've recently dropped thirty pounds. And yes, twenty more gone wouldn't hurt, because brain surgery does all kinds of things to your bod. No one knows this more intimately than I do. I have kind of a skewed self-image anyway.

I know I look more than a day over fast cars and freedom (thanks Rascal Flatts) or at least Mustangs and well, you know. But geeeez. CALL IT TO MY ATTENTION, MUCH?

And in other words: NEVER underestimate a woman...unless it's her age or her weight!!