Jenny and I went to a play last night, called The Shelter, written by a friend of ours. On the way there, as we were getting off the highway, there was a woman standing on the median with a sign (this is not an uncommon thing in Austin -- in Seattle, they sit on the sidewalks and play music. In Austin, they stand in the median and hold signs) that said "My Doggy is in the pound. Two days left to get him back. Please help."

Anyone who knows me knows that this is hitting below the belt. I didn't have any cash at the time, but I still feel awful about not helping her. Oh, I know, she might not even have a dog, whatever, but I keep thinking about how I'd feel if I were homeless and my dogs got taken away, and I feel terrible for this woman.

After the play we went to a local Mexican food joint and had chips and salsa and very expensive (but tasty) margaritas with some of Jen's schoolmates. (As an aside, it feels really weird to call them schoolmates. But I don't know what else to call them. Colleagues feels too old, coworkers isn't accurate... it's a problem.) We had a lot of fun.

I hope the woman gets her dog back.