These final days of the year have flown by. My intentions -- great as they were -- included a more in-depth update, a review of my progress on the 101 in 1001 wish list and some thoughts on Christmas and the year and the coming weeks.

But now I sit here, half-dressed, waiting for Casey's call that she's on her way home and still with a few loose ends to tie up before we head to Massachusetts for the weekend. The computer's coming with me, so soon I'll shut it down and pack it up so that everything is ready and I can relax and continue my frantic attempts to catch up with my reading of The New Yorker to finally reach the current issue date. (In my own personal New Yorker universe, it is Nov. 21. I've been behind since returning from the honeymoon in October.)

At least I've packed my clothes. But it's damn hot in the house and I haven't been able to bring myself to put on a shirt since getting out of the shower. I tend to make my own heat, too.

So there's my dispatch at the end of another year. I can't promise there will be one more in the next 36 hours, but the combination of my own computer and Bryan's wireless internet at least leaves the door open.