contact us

Use the form on the right to contact us. We will do our very best to get back to you within 24 hours. Unless you are a robot. Then we will not be getting back to you. Because robots are evil.


Crofton, MD, 21114

A long-running personal blog shared by two authors with completely different approaches to life. And a lot of large, beautiful photographs of dogs and nature and places we've traveled to. Rich in commentary and irreverant in style. 


We started blogging a long time ago. Our work hours never aligned with recommended psychotherapists and we needed to get our thoughts out. We are great friends, total opposites and long-time housemates. This was a way to communicate. With each other. With strangers. With consumer marketers. With sub-par meteorologists. With distant friends who wanted to see pictures of stuff we were up to.

This is the place. Our bucket of thoughts to share. You are welcome. 
(We realize that most of you are here for the dog pictures.)

That smell


okay so I have this really busy life, right?

Well I decided that I would try this place down the road. You may have one in your hometown. A place that sells prepared foods to stick in your freezer so that when the HGTV crew arrives unexpectedly at your home to deliver the big check and then start turning Judge Judy on how you live - that you can point directly to the freshly prepared marinated flank steak and accessory vegetables laid out upon your crate and barrel kitchen table and say - "yeah, it's like this every night here at our home". Wine?

Well it has kinda worked out like that once or twice. I mean I have been going to this Super Suppers place on and off for about 6 months. We had a decent King Ranch Chicken thing ...and well they do sell tubs of cookie dough...I mean that should support any business model, right?

Well the day before yesterday I defrosted this Pork Loins and Roasted Tomato Vinaigrette bag out of the freezer. So yesterday it was defrosted enough that I could make out the cooking instructions on the bag. And I learn (from the bag) (it's a teaching bag) that this particular entree needs to be cooked in a crock pot for 8 hours.

Side note here: Who the fuck goes to a prepared foods place for a meal solution that take fricking EIGHT hours to cook? hello!

So we got pizza. But I happen to have a beautiful black and chrome Crock Pot that is beautiful only because it has never been used. SO I whip it out thinking how impressed people walking their dogs just outside my kitchen window will be with me. "Wow! That girl really has her shit together. She is making a fabulous thought-out meal for her loved ones. And look at her well behaved animals...."    { end dream sequence }

So now that I have a pizza...I now also have EIGHT hours to cook a meal...for tomorrow night. I can roll with a plan. We put the bag of protein and specialized vegetation into the sleek crock pot...set it and forget it.


Until about 30 minutes later. Let me preface what I am about to explain to you by first informing you that we have a new puppy in our bizarre dysfunctional household. His name is Thor and (as my father would say) "he has a hole in him". Possibly more than one. He pees and poops everywhere. It is an issue we are currently trying to get under control. In fact...before sitting down to pizza - I had mopped the entire first floor while my boyfriend held the dogs at bay in the front yard. So the place was clean. But this odor had arrived. One that had each of us get up during a movie - independently of each other - to try and locate the turd. It was a very quiet turd quest. A quest to locate and discover and remove the offending package so as not to arise suspicion and have the animal be in trouble again.


So we are walking around and around and around the house in a circular pattern while pretending to be up for quickie bathroom trips or to get a drink....when we both meet up again in the kitchen.

The smell is so obvious at this point that it is like introducing an inmate to the warden. There is no hiding from it. We look at each other ...and then look at the crock pot. This smell is not dog poo. this smell is different. Worse. I made the regrettable decision to lift the lid on the crock pot and we all about screamed. I think I heard a neighbor scream simultaneously with us. What the HELL was going on in that pot?

By this time the smell was everywhere. You could almost see it crawling into the seams of the furniture. getting underneath the paint of every wall. After apologizing to the puppy we ran from the room. It was a smell that was so awful, yet so specific that it needed to be called out by it's only one true name. This smells name was HomelessGuyFart.

And it was now living with us.

Dead people could not have smelled worse. We hid in our bed room armed only with Aveda body spray and the thickness of the wood of our door. I texted our other roommate at work and told her it was her problem. She texted back that we should handle it and that it couldn't be that bad. We had an all out texting war for about 20 minutes before - like a teenager after crashing the family car - I just went to bed. What was done was done. I claim no responsibility for things I can no longer see. This whole situation reminded me of the time when the bat got into the house and kept swooping at us and I txt'd our roommate to tell her she had gotten the short straw because the bat had flown into her bathroom. And we had mearly closed the door on the situation temporarily.  I wonder what her co-workers think of our relationship? Well unlike the bat situation - where we had bravely gotten the bat out of the house aided by a tennis racquet and copiuos amounts of screaming...the Pork Loin remained. I was safe. My roommate...on the other hand - well she had been warned.

This morning as I was attempting to boyfriend proved he was the man of the house by throwing the crock pot out of doors (seeing that I was to be of no help). About 10:30 I got an IM from my roommate thanking me for effectively capturing the entirety of the smell in her bedroom. She lives above the kitchen...and I do not go in there as a signal of my respect for her privacy.