There was cheesecake. I got to take the leftover cheesecake home. I will probably have some as soon as I get up from this keyboard.
Other than the cheescake, for which every one of my senses suddenly alligned in an extreme and frightening moment of focus, it was all a blur. I know I had fun, and I think others had fun too, but the details are a little fuzzy just now. I remember driving up to my mom's house with Joy, who came down from NY with Mark (you crazy crackers, you). I also remember walking in and being greeted by almost every woman I know all at once. Then there was the hail ("shower" my ass) of onesies, binkies, blankies and teddies, carseats, monitors, a slew of other infant acoutrements, CHEESECAKE, driving, and then Carl standing in the driveway at home saying "Holy Fuck, you made out like a bandit!"
How much can I possibly say thank you to my mom and my sister and everyone? Not. Enough.
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