No marathon for Madigan on Monday. She was a rockstar the night before, and Papa John worked an overnight, so we were all bumbling around like Spiderpig the next morning - just not knowing which way was up. We had every intention of going down to cheer on the Mercuries among us, alongside the festive cheering squad of our college neighbors who had been drinking their faces off since 8 a.m....and, maybe next year, Baby Girl. We did have a splendid Patriot's Day, though, and I suppose a sort of marathon of sorts did take place, what with the strident and repeated attempts by Baby Girl to raise that little bloomin' onion of a head off the ground.

I give you...Tummy Time Marathon 2008.

Ruffle Bottom takes her mark...




She's outta sight...