This is the dirt-encrusted dollar bill I found at the blueberry barrens. I feel like I need to pass it on, so I think I'll mail it to the next person who leaves a comment on Birch Wisdom. I find money all the time, by the way. I'm lucky like that.

Not sure where it comes from, but Jake and I share a fascination for the NY Jets. I got it into my head that it would be a great father-son deal to go to a game. I looked at ticket prices for when the Jets play in New England. Well, it's a Monday Night game and field level tickets are $987 a piece. The same quality seats at the New Meadowlands are $1500. But if you go to Buffalo (where the Jets play this weekend) you can sit seven rows behind the Jets bench for a $100. I got all cranked up thinking about it and thought, "yes, we'll do it: road trip to Buffalo."

After sleeping on it, however, I woke up feeling as if I just came out of a psychosis. I thought about what it would be like to do 26 hours of driving for a football game, and about how it would probably take me a month to recover. When I spoke to Jake on the phone tonight I couldn't help my curiosity, so I asked him if he would've gone. "Yeah, I'd go," he said.

Moral of the story: I've got the best son on the planet.