Now sing we all Te Deum...

Yesterday evening Anya, Natasha and Kristina all landed jobs at the Afghan Cuisine restaurant -- and they all start today at noon.

I repeat: yesterday evening Anya, Natasha and Kristina all landed jobs at the Afghan Cuisine restaurant -- and they all start today at noon.

I'm not sure you guys quite caught that; so just to make sure there's no confusion on the point:

Yesterday evening Anya, Natasha and Kristina all landed jobs at the Afghan Cuisine restaurant -- and they all start today at noon.

< dance of joy>
< /dance of joy>

I have to buy them some white shirts and black pants, and therefore we're about to head for Wal-Mart -- but I had to share the good news.

Can't help but interject something here: the guy sitting next to me in the coffee shop just gave me one of those moments when for an instant you think you've been complimented, but then the next thing he says tells you that the compliment wasn't actually worth nearly as much as you first thought. I was sailing into the "Yesterday evening" and he suddenly said in admiration, "Man, you type fast."

And just as I was starting to feel good about myself, he added, "I mean, you're not even lookin' at the keys."

Ah, okay, so the bar's not exactly very high here...

Which reminds me of the one time in my life I've gotten nailed that way most spectacularly. When I was in my early-mid-twenties and still a serious athlete, and Kasia was six months old, I took the church youth group out to Enchanted Rock, slung Kasia into a backpack, and trotted up to the top of the Rock with the teenagers gasping along behind me in my wake. I stood up there enjoying the breeze, and one of the Papini twins comes up and puts her hands on her hips to catch her breath. (These wonderful young ladies were, I think, seventeen years old; their parents had come to the U.S. from Brazil because Seu Heber was studying to be an Episcopal priest. I'll always have a soft spot for them because they were the only people in the church not intimidated by the prospect of baby-sitting twins...and of course I'll always remember them for the very story I'm telling now.)

The young lady looks at me and says in some wonder, "Man, Kenny, you're in really good shape..." My chest starts to swell but unfortunately she's not quite done yet: "...for a man your age."