Dag, tommyrot. I'm going to go ahead and say you were better off without both of them.

You can start by reminding me that trying to argue sense with the craxyheads that post to the online version of our local newspaper leads to head-to-desk-banging and the pulling of hair/gnashing of teeth.

Don't do it!!! That never ends well.

It's going to be a nightmare when he's a teen right?

Yes. I have a friend who has to cook enormous quantities of meat for her husband and child every single day, and the boy is only like 3. She's kind of terrified.

A hospital for military dogs has opened in Texas (at Lackland AFB.)

Just because they are hilarious, here is the aforementioned meat-eating father and son: [link] Probably best to watch without sound...

I saw a picture of the military vet hospital and noticed a dog getting water therapy like Lucy. Which I take as a good sign that Miss Lu is getting good treatment.

It goes without saying, really.

Oh, that's really funny. I friended a coworker who then became my boss, so needless to say, I am very careful about what I put on there.

I was talking to a woman recently whose husband is an ex-football player (for Harvard!) and whose kids are enormous (I thought my kids were big - her daughter is a year older than mine and about a foot taller) about the massive food intake and especially meat. I mentioned we were trying to eat free-range local meat, after reading Michael Pollan, and I was getting grass-fed beef from a local farm for $4.75 a pound, which is manageable if you only eat a pound of ground beef a week. And she was like, "This is why I can't read books like that. I can't tell you how many pounds of meat we go through in a week!"

And my post should have said, "You *could* get on IM. I wasn't ordering you. That sounded snooty and icky.

Silly Empress, I knew what you meant.

Actually, I'm getting the creative juices going by making a new playlist. I all of a sudden got hit with inspiration to use slightly retro music for a modern story. It's kind of turning out to be emo, circa 1989. I'm not so sure this is a good thing, although perhaps I can channel the post-adolescent angst into some good emotion for the story.

And she was like, "This is why I can't read books like that. I can't tell you how many pounds of meat we go through in a week!"

Seriously. I was babysitting for them once, and she put an enormous roast in the crock pot when they got home at midnight or something, so it would be done for the next day's lunch.

Lisah, how long are you going to be in town? Maybe we can have a Chicagoista get-together?

Ooh, that gives me an excuse to post some baby picspam!

Dylan had oatmeal this morning too.