I'm a Liger!

In our office, the first line of tech support is our imaginary liger. Lost your password? The liger is on the way. (The liger will eat you and you won't bother us anymore.)

This is not an imaginary liger -- this is me, painted to look like a liger by my delightful niece. (We had a girls' day with Grandma. Grandma took us to lunch and bought a large supply of face paint, and then conveniently had to go home.)

It's lovely, and not in a black pudding sort of way

This is black pudding. On the first breakfast of our trip, Jen, after consulting the menu, was trying to get Mai to describe black pudding. Having eaten it all of her life, and somewhat perplexed at the notion that we had no idea what it was, Mai offered a few adjectives and then summed it up with, "Well, it's lovely, really."

Jennifer ordered it. It was, really, not lovely -- not in the simple aesthetic sense and not in the taste sense. My dad describes it as looking and tasting like what you might get if you fried up some dead flies.