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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.)

Learning Incident C and the Birth of Sally NoPants


So today will not go down in the record book as being my greatest day as a parent.

It was only one incident. Thankfully. I mean the rest of the day went pretty smoothly – I mean now that I am adjusting to having massive head pains and sweating out every 37 minutes. But that has been commonplace this week. The one incident falling under the parenting column kind of won the day, though. And I would tell you about the incident. But I can’t. Because the people involved have all now gotten together and agreed to treat what will now be called “Learning Incident C” – the way our government has shown us to handle matters. We have given it a dry name, put it in a folder marked “confidential” and have put it to bed for 5 years. A sworn oath that will protect us from the mass humiliation and embarrassment of what has transpired today. Today will go down as a day where some of our less thought out actions have run rampant beyond our control. We are sorry. And I am a giant idiot. We hold these truths to be self evident.

In other news – having been brought up in a catholic family (guilt) by two PR executives (spin control) and a stewardess (positive attitude in the face of anything)…I would like to highlight where I am doing something RIGHT as an adult posing as a parental figure.

My son goes to summer camp twice a week at a kids gym here in the area. At this camp one must supply their child with a “snack”. I learned of this on the first day – when I was caught unaware and “snack-less”. I swear there are memo’s that go out to other parents that are NOT being sent to me. Where the hell was this info about a GD snack written – please – show me. Anyhoo… so I am getting this info in a kind of panicked fashion from one of the ugly shorts’d brain surgeons that works there. {Today may not be the day to be insulting other people’s intelligence} So I run to the store and am hypnotized by the snack aisle at giant. I have to get something quick and bring it back to the gym before my child STARVES in public and is subject to social scorn. I immediately go back to my 3rd grade self where your snack is VITALLY important. It defines you. It defines your mother. It IS possible to have a cool snack. I WANT my child to have a cool snack. I don’t even remember having a snack or a prepared lunch in school – ever – but I feel something in the depth of my soul screaming “if you set your child up with a well thought out snack he can be proud of – you will need 17 hours less therapy for yourself later”. So I am grabbing all sorts of shit. It has to be fun to eat, unique, interesting size and shapes, slightly healthy (to protect my image) with a sweet ending. So I grab grapes and ziplock bags, mini 100 calorie hostess cupcakes (who knew!) some mini bottles of Gatorade (always wondered where that would be an appropriate size) and string cheese…cause that stuff is not cheese – it will be fine not be refrigerated for an hour. That is a total ‘after the apocalypse’ food. I’ll be washing those babies down with my canned ensure at the happy hours round the oil can fires talking about radiation rashes, fer sure. I digress. I also grabbed some of those little brown paper lunch bags. They are SO retro – who knew they still made them??? I almost HAD to buy them. They have two sizes now. But the smaller size – though it may actually be the perfect size for a snack – looked weird and not like the iconic ‘lunch bag’ the Cleavers toted around. It was like a mini ziplock – have you seen those? What the hell outside of weed would look right in that sized bag? I ask you. So as I am delighting in all of my finds I get hit by a shopping cart being driven by this nutty Arab. His name is Hajeeb. I know this because he works at the bank at the giant and I had to sit with him and the manager as I filled out all these papers saying I wouldn’t sue them for running me down in aisle 8. I wasn’t actually even mad at Hajeeb – it’s actually very hard to be mad at a panicked man wearing a head wrap. He was like a cartoon. I believe I was actually laughing before I even hit the ground. And he had a voice like the guy that runs the mini mart on the Simpsons. So you just had to love him. But while I was waiting for them to find the right paperwork to sign they sat me at the mini bank desk and Hajeeb gave me a PNG pen. I believe he would have given me his nasal hair had I asked for it. But I started doodling on the only paper I had (to test for ink – as one does) and began drawing monsters on the lunch bags. Cause that’s what I do. I guess. So – later – when I was finally able to leave the Giant store and whip together this now slightly warm snack for my poor deprived child – I opted to give him the bag with the monsters on it. And when I got BACK to the gym – the annoying woman behind the desk whom I have named “nopeanutsright” cause that’s all she ever fucking says to me. NO…there are NO PEANUTS in this snack bag. Jesus. Well she takes the bag – after saying her name – and then looks at the monsters and says “This isn’t your sons name – you need to have your child’s name written clearly on the snack. So that we avoid allergy issues”. Oh for christs sake lady! There are FOUR kids in the class today – you KNOW who this fricking bag belongs to. Do you not see me sweating here??? But she handed me a pen …and I wrote out his name. For the child that cannot read.

So since that time I have stuck with the paper bags - and I have stuck with drawing monsters on the bags. I even added some crayola color to spruce them up - I now color on conference calls every Tuesday and Thursday. I love it. Crayons are so wonderful. They complete me. I want to get a coloring book and just color and shade and color….ahhh. So here are some of the lunch bag monsters. We name them in the car on the drive from daycare to camp.