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?