Here's the latest:

We are moving. Tomorrow. Or this weekend, anyway. Here's the deal: the landlord called at the beginning of the month and told us they really, really wanted to sell our apartment. Cool, I told her. We'll be out in the next month or so.

And then she calls a couple of days later and says that our apartment has sold. Hit the road by the end of the month, please!

This is not as bad as it could be. We'd been planning on moving, anyway, what with all of John's crap piling up everywhere you turn. And the landlord's been totally cool to let us stay as long as she has.

But! It's February, and February has been Mardi Gras month - this past Tuesday was Fat Tuesday. So going out to apartment hunt has been pretty much impossible for the past couple of weeks.

Difficult. Very difficult.

So we took the easy way out. We got a big apartment in a complex in the suburbs. Yes, we would have liked to stay in town, but we pretty much had to make a decision in the middle of the month due to parades and general craziness.

But it's cool. The Williams Family regards the suburban sojourn as temporary. Unless we love it, and then we'll stay forever.

Therefore: our address is changing. And our phone number. I'll send out the new info soon, I assure you. If you need it write me and I'll get it to you.

It was a subdued Mardi Gras. We had no visitors - a first since we moved here. I think the thought of living with a baby scared everyone away.

John seemed to enjoy himself. We took him to several parades - the weather was pretty nice - and he'd look at things for a while, then pass out. I wore him on my chest Monday night for the Orpheus parade; he slept, leaning back against me, while I caught beads.