Several have commented with astonishment and disbelief on the fact that Raegan and I managed to drive into and out of Manhattan without incident. This is true. Indeed, at no time over the weekend was our car towed. Overnight, it remained safely parked in the Drake hotel's garage for the low low price of only fifty bucks a night. I think they even give the cars a nice chocolate on the pillow.

Neither did we get any parking tickets, despite the fact that we managed to find two separate, but equally questionable spaces, one at a broken meter and another at an unmetered location, spitting distance from the Schubert theatre.

More importantly, though, our car was not broken into, as it has been on previous trips into the City. One time, the only thing in my car were some Yiddish learning tapes. And they stole them. I only mention this in the hopes that if any of you, my loyal readers, should happen to see some seedy-looking guys walking around Manhattan, talking like, "Yo man, check out the goyishe punum on that shikse..." Maybe you could jump them and get my tapes back.

Or at least let me know how their Yiddish is coming along. I guess it shouldn't come as a total surprise as I think the going rate of exchange these days is 2 Yiddish learning tapes to 1 vial of Crack. But that's all in the past.

Much like the nun whose Parkinson's appears to have reversed its course, our own personal auto-related miracles of this past weekend have not yet been attributed to Pope John Paul II, but I would be willing to offer them up to the Vatican big-wigs as further proof of his saintliness. So long as my name is mentioned in there somewhere.

In the hopes of increasing traffic to my blog, here's yet another cute picture of Raegan.