Ellie Claire

She came naturally this morning, in the early light of a new day while my own mother raced across the state's frosted hills to aide my sister exhausted from the good fight.

Today I wear the thrilled smile of an uncle, Ellie Claire. Rest up, beautiful girl all tightly wound in your blanket. Rest those eyes, you are in for one hell of a ride.

This is serious

It was the most alarming news, probably because it was completely unexpected.

With the Red Sox a half game out and the Yankees in the basement, I dropped my guard on the Patriots and woe and lo and behold: Tom Brady gets his knee knocked sideways in the first quarter of the first game of the season.

He is out; watching the entire year from his livingroom.

Well, I did what any good New England sports fan would do. I bought two east bound tickets, grabbed the sexiest orthopedic, knee fixin' medical expert I could find, and (seeing as it's still lobster season) headed immediately to the scene of the crime.

Hang tight Brady, Darlene'll get this knee knocked back right. Darlene, pack your hammer, you got work to do.

And what better place to do it than under the granite walls, fall foliage, and lobster traps of New Hampshire. Such is my dedication to that fine corner of the world.