RIP Rocky Raccoon

I always get upset when I see roadkill, unless it is a snake or armadillo.  Those animals are disgusting and I feel better knowing there are less of them (so run over all you want, especially near my apartment).  I know that raccoons are mischievous and infested with rabies, but they're so cute (in my mind the cuter the animal the more sympathy it gets).  How can you look at that face and not feel bad you just ran over it? (Unless you are Steve and then I already know how you feel.)

Steve took me to the airport last Tuesday early in the morning when it was still dark outside and while changing lanes I heard him hit a huge rock that sounded like an explosion. I may have shouted a little bit, but in my defense it was only because I thought he blew out our tire (on my side of the car, of course).  I told Steve he should have been paying attention to a huge rock and then he said it wasn't a rock, but that was all he said.  I asked him if it was a raccoon and he said, "Yes."  So then I asked, "Were you not going to tell me it was a raccoon until I specifically asked if it was so that you wouldn't have to tell me and you wouldn't technically be lying?"  And this was his response: "Yes, but in my defense it was already dead.  I just hit it again."  What a sicko.  He has escaped my murder charges this time, but he may not be so lucky in the future.

She Was Right

I often take shortcuts or ignore things Megan says because I'm efficient (not because I'm either too lazy or I just want to do things my own way). The most recent case was one night when I was preparing the next days lunch for myself, part of which included cheese, meat, and crackers ("big boy Lunchables", yeah I'm that mature). I decided I was going to just throw the crackers, cheese, and meat all into one baggy (to save the environment, because I care.) Megan told me it was going to make the crackers soggy, a risk that I told her I was willing to accept.

The next day I pulled out my lunch to discover I was not prepared for the nastiness that is soggy Triscuits. I did not expect such a relatively minor loss in crunchiness to result in such a dramatic change in taste. I forced the first one or two crackers down. I thought to myself, "I can just throw these away, I brought other stuff in my lunch, and Megan will never have to know." Then another part of me thought,"No, she will know. I don't know how she will, but she just will. She always does." I spent the next 15 or so minutes choking down every last morsel, determined to live with the fate I had chosen. And then she never ended up asking about it, but I confessed anyway.

Here are some unrelated pictures of our trip to San Antonio yesterday.

Top: view of the Riverwalk. Left Bottom: an old church. Mid Bottom: Us in front of the Alamo.  Right Bottom: the slight step above mall cop: Park Police for the Riverwalk.