profound thoughts on my way to work:

1) If you reside in an apartment in the middle of a city - let's say, for all intents and purposes, Madrid - and you're in the market for a puppy, why in the name of jeebus would you get a Saint Bernard? I mean, I love the movie Beethoven and all, but a) once full-grown the poor thing doesn't FIT in an apartment, and b) you can't just bring out a little plastic baggie to pick up its bid'ness in the street... you need to rope off the area and go at it with a snow shovel and a heavy duty (get it? duty? doody?) garbage bag.

2) The mid-summer temperature at 9-930am in in Madrid is PERFECT. Seriously. Betsey weather times infinity. Plus one.

3) It has got to suck big fat balls to be pregnant in the summer... and I don't mean "we just found out and we're so excited for this most glorious gift" pregnant. I'm talkin' "ready to pop, waddling down the street with a fully developed human being in you" pregnant. Did I mentioned summer in Madrid hovers around a refreshing 95 degrees? I mean, I practically overheat as it is when I have to deal with an additional bag with my sneakers and gym clothes in it, let alone having to haul Junior around non-stop.