Today I took the kids to a see a Buster Keaton flick. I don’t know about you, but I am so sick of talkies. Afterwards we ate at a Mexican restaurant that sits next to a tiny airport landing strip. I guess drug dealers don’t fly on Sunday, because no planes took off or landed during our meal. The food was reasonably authentic (fresh lard no doubt). The only other time I ate there the whole family got food poisoning (perhaps too authentic?), but at least we got to see 10 takeoff/landings.
From Mrs. Neill’s blog:
When did these two adorable children
become these two rascals?