Sitting Pretty

Rebecca and I went out on a date last night. It was all snooty-like too, because we went to the Chicago Art Institute, where they have really famous paintings like this one:

However, we eventually wandered into the contemporary art wing, where things degenerated pretty quickly. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched a woman nod approvingly while contemplating the meaning behind an 8' square canvas painted black, and I realized a couple things: first, some people need a good smack in the head with a rolled up newspaper, and second, anything qualifies as modern art if you just make it really big. So don't be too hasty when emptying out your cat's litterbox. I am reasonably sure that if you waited a few months and sprayed the pile with shellac, it would eventually be found on display somewhere.
Sushi dinner was good too. In fact the only black spot in the evening (aside from the aforementioned artwork) was that we came home to find Amy and Gill had gotten Jude and Asher both to sleep by 9, which is something that we, as parents, have so far been unsuccessful at. Punks.