The gods are telling me something. Jeremy is upstairs, probably about to croak to the tune of P90X - while yours truly is parked in front of this computer, catching up on a weeks' worth of missed blogs (bc I am nothing if not a devout blog reader). I've got a hot mug of hazelnut cream with a splash of coffee in hand, along with an uneaten McAlister's chocolate chip cookie. I know. Shame on me for not having pummeled that sucker yesterday. And now I run across this picture of Knox.
That's a 20-month old doing downward dog, people. And if that's not a sign, I don't know what is. Thus, my unhealthiness stops now. Right after I finish this delicious cookie and shotgun the rest of this cream, er coffee.