Last weekend I took the Megabus up up to Massachusetts to visit friends. Mostly we just hung out, ate a bunch of good food (carnitas for example, cooked with oranges, milk and coke, which should be disgusting but was so, so good), took a few long walks in the woods, drank whiskey, watched the Super Bowl and laughed a lot. But then every once in a while a baby would roll through on a flat rate priority mail box. She never made it through that kitchen without the dog seeming pretty perplexed. Understandably.