359) Untitled, Apparently

The Bolt Bus wireless is failing me, so it'll have to be a cell post tonight. This is made even more tragic by the fact that this is my final week of The Plan.

We were eating brunch this morning and one of the assorted dips that came with someone's fries tasted a little like baby food (#firstworldproblems). It was some sweet brandied tomato concoction that no one could quite handle.

The comment about baby food set my brain in motion. Back in our primitive days, mothers had to physically chew up food before feeding it to her child, much as our animal and bird friends still do. Once we had tools they were able to mush up the food by hand.

For some reason it struck me that today, there are companies who do this for us. They process fruit and veggies and pipe them into cute little jars. There is this whole industry that is simulating motherhood to make the modern woman's life a little easier.

Just something I was thinking about. Not meant to pass judgment, and certainly not meant to suggest that mothers should be chewing up their food and spitting it out today. It does make me wonder what type of mother I'll be (in the very distant future). Will I be filling my cart with pre-mushed food, or will I try to cook and food process it myself?

(Mini aside - much fun in DC. Sleepy, and to my delight, slightly flushed from sun exposure.)