I heard a story about Lily and gravy. I will tell it. Every Sunday, my mother makes some sort of meat dish, with a potato and gravy. EVERY SUNDAY FOR AS LONG AS I HAVE LIVED AND WILL LIVE. So this last Sunday, she makes a chicken dish of some sort, sans the gravy, for whatever reason. When Lily found out that there was no sauce for her potatoes, she started quaking, throwing things off of the table, shaking and gritting her teeth, and screaming. She closed herself off in a room watching Fantasia, and didn't eat a thing for the rest of the night. Three years old, and set in her ways like some 57 year old with an anxiety disorder. Oh, how I have feelings for her. Such feelings. Love feelings.