Well, that�s a damn lie. Men -- bless their hearts -- will let you know when you look good.

Between the homeless guy muttering, �Day-um,� the men who feel it necessary to honk, hoot, and holler, and the weird stares, you�ll know if you look good.

These behaviors are indeed creepy, but you�ve got an idea when your new black skirt is indeed flattering.

One of the nicest passerby compliments I got was from a runner who passed me as I made my way to Taco Burrito Hut. As he passed, he nicely said, �Black really is your color,� as he continued down the street.

No, �Baby,� �Honey,� or �Sweet cheeks,� about it. Just a simple compliment.

Men. Gotta love �em.

I spent last night cropping and resizing pictures on my laptop. The Houston shots all came out quite nicely. If I ever get Internet at home or figure out how to burn a CD of photos (where are you Easy CD Creator??), I�ll show ya what I took.

My nephew� Damn. He�s so friggin� smiley in every picture I took. Bright blue eyes (like his Aunt Jo, no less!), round baby cheeks, and a toothy grin!

I got a really excellent shot with him in a party hat while sitting in my sister�s lap that I printed and framed. Good stuff.

I�m still mystified at cell reproduction and how he came from the combination of two half-cells. I know proof of that amazing phenomenon is all over, but it�s just most evident to me in his instance. I can only imagine my awe and wonder when (or if) it�s my own kid.

All right. Enough geeking out on my end.

There was no softball for me last night. After scheduling me for two back-to-back games in the ghetto, they ended up not needing me.

I spent the evening in Flylady fashion, cleaning up the place and making an actual dinner for myself.

The menu? I had couscous in a soy-based cucumber and dill sauce (heavy on the garlic, of course) and a spiced-just-right potato knish. (Oh yes. And a few handfuls of blueberries. Because they are dee-lish!)

After dinner I did the weekly chores I�m trying so hard to keep up with. I dusted the wooden blinds with my extend-a-hand broom handle, dusted all surfaces with a dry rag, swept the floors, and then ran around with another rag and a bottle of Windex.

The condo is looking goooood.

I figure that since I dropped all of my bones on a grown-up condo, the space should remain looking grown-up. Grown-ups don�t have messy houses. (At least in my mind anyway�) Grown-ups don�t have crappy furniture. Grown-ups don�t have mountains of stacks of papers of reminders of things to do.

Tonight I bust out the vacuum for the carpets, and I�ll try to declutter some of the stuff in the office.

Which reminds me that I need to prove that I already paid state taxes. Sheesh�

All right. It�s a short edition today. I�ve got stuff to get done, and I�m ready to go home.

G�nite! �