Maybe it's seasonal affective disorder, our interminable rain, overwork, not enough sleep, lack of exercise, or crappy diet, but I needed a new toy to cheer me up, so I bought myself a scanner. We had a scanner, a decrepit creature abandoned by its maker (we couldn't find a driver for Windows XP). But this new puppy is state of the art: an HP Scanjet 4850. Not top o' the line, but more scanner than I need. I debated with myself what to give you first. A photo of my dad's parents dancing cheek to cheek? Perhaps a photo of my parents at half my present age, sitting next to one another on the beach? Maybe I should put up the photo of my mom's dad in a Nazi uniform. (Nope. Gonna save that story for another day.) No, I decided to post clear-cut evidence of my early attempts to ruin my son's liver.Be honest. You have a picture of your son or daughter like this, don't you? It's one of those irresistible photo opportunities. That's Carta Blanca, by the way -- damn near unavailable in Northern California, but it's our favorite beer. And Jake's, too, by the look on his face. Disclaimer for the humor-impaired, the gullible, and the meddlesome: the bottle was empty. Nearly. D.