Nope, no news. No pregnancy news at all.

Christina has been looking at my funny for a while, since we arrived for our annual Fresh Air Fund visit to the Fairly Oddmother Massachusetts Compound, summer home for wayward, yard-deprived New York City families. I pour myself a beer at lunch and she is visibly relieved.

"Oh PHEW!" She laughs, "you're drinking!"

I guess now I know - if I go to sleep early, take a nap midday and then turn down a drink, I'm pregnant. Probably because at this very time, four years ago when we stayed here, all those things were true. 

Also maybe because I have Dunkin' Donuts gut this weekend. (A sure way to know you're in New England.)

Now we're off to Maine. I hear lobstahs are $4 a pound.

I can even eat them raw if I want. Because, you know - I'm not pregnant.