The baby is asleep. His temperature is back to normal, though he still has that dang cough. Patrick is playing drums out in the garage. I'm curled up on the couch with the new Stephen King novel about time travel, a glass of water, a bag of pita chips, and the best dang hummus ever.
I'm picturing Jake as Bradley Whitford. Or maybe -- and this is insane -- as Luke Perry. I'm kind of leaning that way right now; Bradley, no offense, is a little older than the character is in my mind. Wouldn't all the girls swoon at seeing Luke, in whatever 2011 shaggy hairdo he's sporting now, cut it back to its "Beverly Hills, 90210" style once he goes back to 1958?
See you later. It's a thick book; I've got some reading to do.
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