It was late- very late. David had been sound asleep in next to Alex when he heard a cry from the other room. He shot up from his restful slumber and looked around. It took a moment for him to realize that the crying was not coming from anywhere in the room but from Ellie's room.

Sighing, David crawled out of bed and headed off to the baby's room. As he entered the crying grew worse. He picked up the squirming infant and instantly understood what the problem was- she was burning up.

"Great...," he mumbled under his breath as he tried to calm the child.

It had been a long day- a very long day. Work had been miserable and coming home and having to deal with his father on the phone again was doing nothing to improve Dresden's mood. He sighed, tapping his cell phone against his head, wondering how the hell he was going to bring up the subject. It was something he figured would never come up but now it was inevitable that his past was going to crash into his present. The only thing that he had a choice in was who the party-crasher would be- himself or his father.

He had gotten over his horror at his own actions years ago- no choice. He either had to live with it or not. Seeing as the Powers That Be had deemed it necessary that he remain a member of this mortal coil he had to let the past go. Grousing over the past wouldn't change it.

Dresden had learned to live with who he was and who he had been. The question was- could anyone else? Tossing aside the phone, he toyed with the prospect of seeing if his old place was up for rent again. Wouldn't be a bad thing to check out...

He glanced up as the front door opened.

Who: David, Alex, and some phone calls
When: This morning
Where: Their house
Rating: Knowing Dresden PG-13

Dresden was busy in the kitchen, making waffles. He didn't have work today so he wanted to make the best of it. Near by, Ellie was in his high chair, watching him work with great interest.

"Hey, Alex- breakfast'll be ready soon!"

My Oldsmobile finally kicked the infernal bucket so I went and got myself a new ride. It's not what you might think I would pick out but I happen to like it- V6, 3.8L, Series III engine.



As much as I needed a new car I still hate shelling out the money.

Went with some... associates from IAB to see the late showing of Valkyrie. Decent movie overall but it seems that Hollywood, once again, has taken a bleak truth and polished it into a story of valor and heroism.

So people always get nostalgic this time of year. They wish for "the good ol' days." Well, my grandmother had something to say about "the good ol' days." Her opinion was that there was no such thing as "the good ol' days." She said that "the good ol' days" weren't all that good. She grew up during the Depression so I suppose times weren't all that good then. I've also noticed that time tends to erase the bad from our memories and we are left with a false impression that everything in the past was good or at least better than our present situation.

What does this all mean? Nothing. Go forth and drink and be merry and leave me the hell alone. Happy New Year, New York City.

So I hear there have been big to-dos going on lately. People leaving and people getting dropped in it. For the record, I had nothing to do with certain IAB investigations. That's all I'll say.

Halloween was good. I ended up drenching quite a few would-be TP-ers and mischief makers. I don't think I need to re-certify this year for my firearm- my aim is just fine. HA!

I'm not usually much of one for poems but I've always liked Robert Frost. Go figure. Any ways, I thought this would be a good one to share with it being Halloween and all. Enjoy.

Ghost House
by: Robert Frost

I Dwell in a lonely house I know
That vanished many a summer ago,
And left no trace but the cellar walls,
And a cellar in which the daylight falls,
And the purple-stemmed wild raspberries grow.

O'er ruined fences the grape-vines shield
The woods come back to the mowing field;
The orchard tree has grown one copse
Of new wood and old where the woodpecker chops;
The footpath down to the well is healed.

I dwell with a strangely aching heart
In that vanished abode there far apart
On that disused and forgotten road
That has no dust-bath now for the toad.
Night comes; the black bats tumble and dart;

The whippoorwill is coming to shout
And hush and cluck and flutter about:
I hear him begin far enough away
Full many a time to say his say
Before he arrives to say it out.

It is under the small, dim, summer star.
I know not who these mute folk are
Who share the unlit place with me--
Those stones out under the low-limbed tree
Doubtless bear names that the mosses mar.

They are tireless folk, but slow and sad,
Though two, close-keeping, are lass and lad,--
With none among them that ever sings,
And yet, in view of how many things,
As sweet companions as might be had.

From "A Boy's Will", 1913