I don't know if the following story implies that we eat out too much or not enough. I'm pulling for not enough.
The other day I passed Cherie on my way out the kitchen. In her hands was a small stuffed dog she brought home from VBS. There was something odd about the way she was carrying it, so I turned around for another look.
The small purple dog she cradled in her hands was sitting in a quart sized ziploc bag with his head poking out.
"Watcha got there, Chickadee?" I asked.
Cherie stopped walking, held her hands up and said proudly, "It's my doggie bag."