I spoke with my grandmother on my commute home, today. We discussed Edgar Rice Burroughs, Arthur Conan Doyle, Sweeney Todd and Jack Elliot.
Cara went to work this evening, leaving Leesha and Jack in my care. As Leesha finished her dinner, which always takes her too much time, I fed Jack a bottle. As I'm feeding Jack, Leesha cleans up and hops in the shower. Still feeding Jack and I hear Leesha finish her shower, but then I hear a familiar sound... she comes out and confirms my suspicion. She puked in the toilet. So I had her lay down and take it easy. I figured it must be the large bottle of water I had her finish before she left the table (she's been coughing and we figure water would help with that), but it could be bad food. So now my stomach feels uneasy. I hate that. Jack falls asleep. Cara returns from work- they didn't need her, I guess. As she's taking care of Jack, I go to dump a bucket of mop water outside. That was enough to send me over the edge and I let my stomach go. I figured it was get it over with now or fight it all night. I don't think there was anything wrong with the food. It was just in my mind, but oh well. I felt fine after anyways.
At the convention, last Sunday, I picked up some Tom Strong trades. Man, these are good. Alan Moore is a genius.