Not only is it voting day, it's also Todd's 32nd - happy BDay Toad! That time of year already, is it? Amazing. I'll miss all the calls from John McCain, Dick Reardon, Ahhnold, of course, etc. as we move past another set of props, another ballot. They certainly keep you on your toes out here.

Heather's back in Calif., so last night we took her to a weird French restaurant called "Taix" on Sunset Blvd. The food was good, don't get me wrong, but the decor was that curious, old, art-deco-ey, your great-great-great-aunt-born-in-1897's-parlor-kind of style, dark, with flowery carpet, flowery wallpaper and flowerly sconces, old black and white photographs and renaissance paintings, with long windy hallways. Plus it might be haunted. We liked the roast chicken with burgundy sauce and the steak-frites, but I bet Heather will ask us not to take her there next time.

Sooo, yes, it seems, the housing crash is upon us -- it may be slow moving, but we can smell it coming, in the air underneath the "shady trees" in the "easy-care yards" of the "perfect starter carports" with the "loads of potential." House-gazing was among the weekend's slew of activities, which included two movies with short, yellow-haired, bespectacled, notorious and charismatic title characters: "Chicken Little" and "Capote." Capote is mesmerizing. Philip Seymour Hoffman is superhuman in this movie. It may give you nightmares, but it is a fantastic film -- flaw-free. Chicken Little? Well, kids only. Nice animation and some funny creatures, but the story's not for people under seven.