I called my sister, The Supreme Babysitter, at 9:45 asking if it was okay for us to stay for the prize drawing at Dan’s office holiday party. I had originally said I'd be home by ten, but it was a casino night, you see; and the more paper tickets I accumulated at the blackjack table, the better chance I had at winning the spa gift certificate.

“The thing is,” I explained breathlessly, “you have to be present to win,”

“Uh, no problem,” she said, and I could pretty much hear her eyes rolling into the phone.

When we walked in the door at quarter to twelve, empty-handed except for the strings of mardi gras beads they gave you if you got “21,” I’m pretty sure she lost a little respect for us.

“So, what do you guys have planned for the rest of the weekend?” she asked politely on the way out the door.

“Oh, just chillin’ like Bob Dylan,” said Dan.

“Rollin’ with our homies,” I added, nodding.

Mary blinked. “Ok-ay,” she said. “Um... and now I really have to go.”