If I wasn't around the previous evening, I can always tell what kind of nuts Jack was serving during McNeil/Lehrer Happy Hour because I find them whole and undigested in Jackson's diaper the next afternoon. YES, IT MUST BE A SLOW WEEK IF I'M WRITING ABOUT THE SILENT, PAINLESS JOURNEY OF SEVERAL ROASTED PEANUTS THROUGH MY SON'S DIGESTIVE TRACT. So very extra slow, in fact, that I might as well just post another fossil from my parents' basement and go clean something.