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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.)

Days of Wine and Scoopers


Donate to the Red CrossFriday I spent the day locked to my desk chair in the office, working while trying to comprehend that the things I was seeing footage of …were real. Horrifying images of whole lives being swept away. Suddenly Japan looked so small. Only slightly bigger than Hawaii and equally as vulnerable. Anyone who looked at me had to answer the question "But what about the volcano's? How is THAT not going to be an issue?"

I can do little more than pray for those people (and the ones going in to help them). And contribute funds. I can spare (in my meager budget) money for people who have been brutally mugged by natural forces and unfortunate geographical location. This is long from over.

Saturday I awoke early to sort out the dogs before taking shorty to his very first Lacrosse clinic. He was trying out for a team in the Crofton Scoopers Lax League. This is the sporting equivalent to Hogwarts Sorting Hat. So we showed up at the right field (thank you Yenny) and was delighted to see all these strange happy families out there LOADED DOWN with veritable PILES of Lacrosse equipment.

And the boys were all so small. Tiny! It was hysterical. It looked like a casting call for "Midget Stormtroopers", the movie. But much more colorful.

Once shorty was suited up he blended right in with the crowd.

Did I mention they were small people? That LAX stick is touching the ground on the other end.

After practice Shorty got in the car and we headed home. We had gotten about half way there when he had a GIANT nose-bleed for absolutely no reason. It looked like I shot him in the face. Where the hell did this come from? I was of course swerving all over the road trying to stop the flow of carnage in the back seat with a tissue the size of a postage stamp. Eventually I would pull over - cuss 6 times at my seat belt, almost get hit by 3 cars, yell at 3 cars, whip open the back door and shove an entire roll of paper towels onto his face. "Mom I can't breathe." "If you can talk - you can breathe. Now look up - hold the towels here and pinch the bridge of your nose. I'll put the window down so there is more air."  Other drivers stared at me as I got back in the drivers side… yes I have blood all over my shirt. No. I did not shoot my child in the face. This is just one of those perk moments of parenting.

The bleeding had ceased by the time we pulled up at the house. Seamus was confused as to why I asked him to return to the bathroom sink 5 minutes later. "But I got it all off my face." He points at his own face. "Yeah - but you have freddie kruger hands buddy. Check it out." "Oh. yeah. okay." Some snacks and a big glass of iced tea and within 20 minutes all was right with the world again. Well, with the exception of Japan where things were still going VERY badly.

We had the Giftenbergs over for dinner Saturday night. So nice to have a guest show up for dinner with half of the dinner and then ask if they can walk the dogs. There are really no better dinner guests than that. Ever. In history. Nope, none.

Hambone made the rounds slutting about and sitting on everyone. He judges you on lap comfort and openness to multiple position changes.

"No, that doesn't work for me. I'm coming around so I can see your face. Keep touching me though. Do you have snacks. Look deep into my eyes. You want to touch me and give me snacks. Ignore the cranky lady and the kid that smells like blood - you are always allowed to feed me. You are special."

So we ate - we drank - we chatted about the best BBC Brit-coms out currently. I made them watch the very first episode of "The IT Crowd". Love that show.

My mother showed up and shared wine that wasn't red, in trade for a meal and pleasant conversation.
And Blackberry technical support.

Then it was time for dessert. I had been told that we were going to try and keep things very *healthy. The VERY person who made that rule brought a huge box of perverse french pastries.

God bless'er heart. It was decadent. (there was simply no time to take a photo of the box before the items were dug into. We were like savage pastery wolves going in for the kill with our dessert forks.)

You may remember the Giftenbergs from an earlier posting about "The Case of Yenny's disappearing Cake Love". Well they set aside a special pastry for Yenny this time. But not before making a joke plate to irritate her (larger image). I was supposed to have txt'd her the image that night. But well I forgot - I was high on sugar and wine. There is no better excuse - and I'd do it again!

Of course it now occurs to me that I have forgotten to tell Yenny that there is a dessert in the fridge for her. (The woman is never home - so I tend to forget what she knows). I'm not even sure which one was set aside  specifically for her - but there is another large box in the fridge with one tiny thing in it. Like jewels from the bakery, they were so pretty.

Sunday was round two of the LAX clinic for the height impaired. The highlight was that Shorty got to use his very first mouth guard.

A male right of passage. He spent an hour spitting it out and then trying to get it back into his mouth with only his tongue. It was hard to watch and usurped the majority of his brain power.

After that we went to Annapolis to fix computers and go for a walk around town. << that is code for 'exert minimal physical effort in oder to obtain ice cream'.

The ice cream was sooo good.

It is such a perfect food.

(when not adulterated by pralines)

Or ridiculous artificial colors. Guess who had this one? It was called Superman Ice Cream. Who could blame a kid for wanting it?

Before we left the shop I noticed that two high school boys wearing white aprons were assembling these marshmallow treats.

They are just so beautifully simple. I mean I imagine there are additional steps involved. But I wanted them just as they were. The whole flat of them.

On the 1/2 mile walk back to the car we discussed whether we thought blind people would just think the Superman ice cream was vanilla - or if there actually was some different flavor to the brightly colored confection. Life is so full of blind people questions and curiosities. Doesn't it seem like there are less blind people now-a-days? Who will answer our questions? Certainly not the deaf people.

...yeah I went there. Sorry.