I was very casual about nursing everywhere at anytime. Adults pretend to not notice, but kids get curious and ask questions. Children don't find feeding babies sexual at all.

And of course I would nurse the boys in the airport because otherwise they would be acting up and crying and be at risk for the killing by the surly traveler. It was in the child's best interest.

I would have, brenda, except they're gone by 4PM on Fridays.

Poor guy, he so desperately wants to be inside, but I won't do that until he's cleared. I feel much better knowing he's in the garage and safe in a crate given that it's still raining.

The wee beastie knew where the softhearted lady lived. Good on him. Or her?

Wow, Laura, now I want to go to Ft. Lauderdale just to not eat there.

No! I say we all go there, declare the food inedible and yell at the chef, en masse.

Sparky! Oops. Shh. She and Babyfras are probably napping now.

The wee beastie knew where the softhearted lady lived. Good on him. Or her?

It's a him. And I've long suspected a target or neon sign visible only to beasties perched somewhere above my head.

1. Ow.

2. I don't know anything about dogs.

3. Ow some more.

4. I don't know why I'm numbering this.

5. Why do the painkillers always make my brain all fuzzy long before they actually stop the pain?

I have now progressed to lying on the couch and whimpering. Stupid body. (This is why I try to schedule PT on Fridays. I know I'm going to be achy afterwards, so if it screws up my sleep or leaves me still achy the next day, at least it's not keeping out of a day that I'd usually be doing math.)

Nobody else around? Or did my whining kill the thread? Sorry. I'll try to stop whining.

Poor Hil. Sucks to be so achy.

Lucky dog, to have happened on Barb.

I don't know why I'm numbering this.

Because numeration is comforting to you?

Perhaps.

OK, painkillers are finally working enough that I think I can get to sleep.