Early Morning Smiles and Crimes...Oh, Good Morning Brooklyn

For at least the last half of our drive to New York, Zoey kept casually reminding us that we were headed, "home," which in a way, is kinda right. This past summer the only home Zo knew was the corner of Clinton and 3rd. We try to correct her but it's no use. She's two years old and she believes what she believes. I suppose for one brief period her address was indeed a Carroll Gardens one.

These days we're just dropping by. We arrived after 10 or so hours of easy driving. Zo didn't stop talking for no less than seven of them, and Daddy forgot to eat, so as I type this people in Manhattan can hear my stomach growling. Zed was the ultimate passenger. Aside from kicking the hell out of Dad's left shoulder, playing the rhyming game horribly, and losing her best friend, Woody, on one occasion for not listening, she had an absolutely impressive ride down to the city. We're awfully proud. Perhaps the best part of the trip was Zoey deciding that Poopy and DeWagner rhymed, which of course, they don't...pretty awesome name though.

There's probably infinite more tales to tell but I'm starving, and this boroughs gastro-intestinal delights are calling my name.

It's time to get up and get going.

Hello Brooklyn. Were back!

Hey, I just heard a car accident outside my window. Whoa, hit and run. God, I love this place.