Today we welcome two more beautiful nieces into our family. No names yet, but everyone is happy and healthy. And in the end, isn't that all that matters? I think so.

Last night was our first Luke Halloween. Our first Halloween with our 100-pound dog. And he performed beautifully. Let me explain: our neighborhood sees its fair share of (pardon the expression) snot-nosed brats on Halloween. I'm not talking about your average trick-or-treater; I'm talking about 17, 18, and 19 year olds who come to your door demanding candy, not understanding the finer points of Halloween being a night for young children. They don't wait for you to dig around in the bowl to give them a couple gems; they heave their grubby hands in themselves and come out with a good half-dozen pieces of candy. But this Halloween was different. Said adolescents rang the doorbell, yelling their demands, and Luke ran to the door, barking up a storm, hair raised. Now, he's not a vicious dog by any means. He would never harm anyone. But he was bound and determined to protect the house, and I'd be surprised if those high schoolers didn't have to go home and change their underwear.