Kick start

I ought to have one of those Intel stickers on my fore- head, but it would say "Alarm Clock Inside."

No matter what we've done the night before -- in this case, dinner at 915 (yes, the pâté, yes, oh yes) so we could nail down our viewing table for the Fantasy Fest parade -- my internal timer puts me on buzz somewhere around 5 a.m. Rain, shine, summer, winter, there I am, hatched fresh for the day, and even fresher once the French roast has brewed.

Robert, meanwhile, snores.