I'm just as nervous when she comes at me with a blanket

Hey everyone, thanks for indulging my, uh, petrospective the other day (it's okay, he loved puns, I promise). I'm afraid I'm still a tad glum, but I do want you to rest assured that the entire exchange with my neighbor was as awkward as humanly possible. My inability to communicate with people will not be compromised by tragedy! (Offers high five, is left hanging, clumsily scratches head.)

Let's see...comfort food, comfort food...here we go.

What's it like to have feelings that don't taste like eggs and cheese? Never mind, I don't want to know.

We should probably fry something too, just to be safe.

In peanut oil. To be extra safe.

Non-coincidentally (or as some would say, "on purpose"), my Food Lush post yesterday was comfort-food oriented as well. I'm sorry if any of you needed cheese this week, I think I have all of it here.

Look, I realize that child malapropisms are pretty low-hanging fruit, but I dissolve into a puddle of giggles every time Anna solemnly requests the "fly swaddle."

It does make me wonder what she thought we were doing to Ivy all those months.