I'm sitting in our hotel room in St. Thomas, waiting for Crockett to find food more appealing than both of us laying on the bed in the air-conditioning wearing nothing but... Well, nothing.Clearly, it's going to be a few minutes. Tomorrow, I fly home. I am so fucking excited, you guys. So excited. I'll get to see my puppies and my house and my bed and my cauliflowers that I'm growing even though I don't really like cauliflower and am mostly growing because I like how it looks like brains coming up out of a leafy center. Wait, what's that you say? There's no beach in Colorado? Surely there must be one or two. I mean, I never looked before because I was unaware of how glorious a beach can be, so there's probably one right up the street from my house and I just never noticed. Right? No? Huh. . . . New plan. Someone (Kim? Star?) put the puppies in a carryon and get your ass down here. And if you think of it, bring my cauliflower.