Isiah?

Isiah Thomas? Dwyane Wade? How do I keep missing these ridiculous spellings? I probably read "Isiah" 500 times over the past 20 years and never once noticed Mrs. Thomas's blunder. I'm not as sharp as I think I am.

In other news, I successfully tied my own tie this morning. This may not sound like an impressive feat for a 27-year-old who wears a tie at least once a week, but at least once a week, I stand in front of a mirror and try in vain to tie an acceptable knot, only to hand the tie over to my loving and talented wife, who gets the job done in two or three tries. Not wanting to wake her on a day off, I forged on this morning, striking gold on my sixth or seventh effort.

Another impressive streak came to an end on Sunday, when I drank a Dr. Pepper, my first soda in more than a year. After succumbing to one of the intense cravings I've been having for most of the past 60 or so weekends, I feel like I can go another year without one. It was, however, delicious.

Jill and I caught a scintillating Holy Cross football game this week with her dad and brothers. At dinner after the game, three-year-old Lauryn insisted that our back-of-the-placemat drawings of her family be anatomically correct (and all female). I resisted at first, but as the increasingly fervent cries of "I need to draw a vagina!" echoed throughout the restaurant, I gave up, and Noah's crayon likeness may never forgive me.