All good things...

Aaaaaand, we're back. Back home again in Atlanta.

Unfortunately.

It's not that I'm not happy to be home, because it's always nice to get back to your own house, your own bed, and in my case, your own dogs. It's just that I miss the beach already. A lot.

It was amazing, of course. And, with the exception of a nightly wake-up around 1-2am by Brigid, which is apparently what I have to expect when we share a room with her, we all had a fantastic time. I have all sorts of pictures to download, and details to share, and tarballs to talk about, but I haven't gotten around to all of that yet, so you're just going to have to wait.

In the meantime, there's this...







Why, yes. Yes, that is a comb-over. And I have absolutely no idea what to do with it.

On the one hand, it's ridiculous. The kid looks like a cross between Gene Keady and Donald Trump. And that, boys and girls, is not a combination you want people to use when they're describing your kid.

On the other hand, I'm pretty sure she could guest host Celebrity Apprentice, and nobody would even realize the Donald was missing. So, you know, silver lining and all of that.

I guess, since nobody trims an eight month old's bangs these days (right? they frown on that, don't they?), it's probably time to break out the headbands and barrettes to fight this situation, because the comb-over must be stopped. And if that doesn't work? If it just won't go away?

Just tell NBC to give us a call. I guarantee we work for much, much less than Trump is charging these days.