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.

Thanks!


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. 

Blog

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.)

Sunday Sunday Sunday!

Healey

So I have been running around like a nut this past week.
[This could result in a long entry. Please take this time to sit or retrieve a beverage or pee.]

Here are some snapshots from the past week.

No Cake Love for Gumbah -
"Yenny there is some cake from Cake Love in the fridge."
"Bryant leave some cake for Yenny - it's so good - i want her to have a piece too"
"It's strawberry butter creme. Soooo yummy. You'll love it Yenny."
"Yenny - have you tried the cake from Alyssa's party?"
"The box is in the fridge…so decadent"

Y - you people are jerks.
H - what? What's wrong?
Y - the cake…?
H - Yeah? Did you try it? It is SO good.
Y - Really? I swear you people stay up at night trying to come up with this shit.
H - …. what?

So she takes the giant box out of the fridge and hands it to me.


I open it to find one square inch of cake and an abandoned knife. Someone is clearly living by high school diet rules in this house (and it's not Yenny or I). All women know the unwritten rule that "if you finish it - you ate it all"… therefore you should embrace the guilt. What I hadn't known is that they must teach this at the Naval Academy too.

She knows it was not me - because i would have removed all evidence from the house.
That is the way of the McFabulous. Only the recycling bin knows my shame.

Exhaustive Nudity
Hambone has been naked all week. Collarless. Running without tags. Why?

He and his idiot brother pursued a wild hair.
We went for our normal walk in the woods down by the Patuxant River (also known as "the creek") and while deep in conversation Thor spied a gaggle of unsuspecting geese nodding off in the now-defrosted pond - and he was gone. I started running after I heard the splash! and the communal cardiac arrest of the fowl.  Once in view of the pond I saw Hambone running giddily, like a naked fat man, towards the mud and water.

He heard me yelling NOOOOOOO as he sunk into the black mud and squished his way forward to the actual pond water. They were deliriously happy (and had no idea how to get out). This scene instantly reminded me of a scene from a movie.

Hambone was the Dour Reverend Beebe running naked into the pond in the Merchant Ivory Film "A Room With A View". The infamous "Pond Scene". I swear that was the first time I had ever seen an actual pecker on screen. It was not where I had expected it, in this prim little victorian movie from a book written in 1908. But I suppose people were naked back then too.

Here is the clip I was speaking about. Gawd what an amazing cast that was - look how young they all were. (referenced timecode is from 1:20 to 5:20)

So after getting them home and cleaned. They were exhausted. And so was I.

The Black Handbag of Death
I went up to NYC for the day and was waffling over what to wear. I needed to be comfortable...but not look like a high school art teacher (which in my mind is wearing pajamas to work with large jewelry). So of course you make the decisions in this order - shoes, pants, shirt, hat (or no hat), coat, belt, socks, handbag. Since I had gone with black shoes, coat and belt - it was a natural, logical decision to go with my black leather coach bag. It had the right handles and could hold my ipad. And my 13 hand creams. and 4 chapsticks. And my two lipsticks (I don't wear lipstick - but these two are Chanel. And spring-loaded) and $14 in change. And a moleskin notebook (incase of global loss of electricity where I would have to fall back on actually WRITING something).

But there was an issue with my handbag.
THAT handbag. I had brought it to the firing range days earlier - and Mr. Jokey-Jokey had dumped three handfuls of 9 millimeter spent casings into my bag. Gosh you are just SO FUNNY. You idiot. That is my practical black bag you idiot! My "go-to" purse!!!!!

So fast forward to BWI security at 5:20 am.



Yep. I spent almost 45 minutes there. I went through the sniffer machine not once - not twice - three times. I was wanded twice and stripped down to pants, shirt and that which lay beneath it. Everybody took a turn feeling me up. They made me take my socks off. ("eww.. I could get some gnarly virus by standing here on this icky mat bare footed". You know - like that evil commercial where the booger with legs and smoker voice crawls up underneath of your toenail. God I hate the people that created that commercial. So mentally damaging).

But having grown up around DC - I decided to just let them have their way with me. I offered no information and just answered the questions they asked. I opted not to channel my mom and say something stupid like "are you worried about all that ammunition dust in my handbag? Well  - it's a funny story, see, my boyfriend…". Yeah. I impressed few - but met many.

And then I got on my teeny weeny prop plane to NYC. I love little planes. It's the exhilaration that you may die. Ahhh!!!… hehe Yay!!! Weee! And trust me - I have almost died on MANY a plane. But most of those flights were in or out of third world countries.


I had my meeting. Got out a little bit early and stood on the corner of 3rd Ave and E 51st street thinking long and hard about whether I should get in a cab and go to ABC Carpets or get in a cab and go to LaGuardia. Or ABC Carpet AND Fishes Eddie. How much could I actually carry on the trip back? I already had a full purse. Maybe I could buy a cheap-o dolly to carry things. Like an upscale bag lady.

I went to LaGuardia and got an earlier flight back. I was glad I did too.. because I got real tired real fast once I got to the airport. I had been up since 3:30. Thankfully - TSA in NY didn't give a hoot about ammo dust in my bag. It must be rather commonplace there.

The next day I took Hambone to the park to see his Texan girlfriend Bella. Their love is something special. Something that could only be improved by a step ladder.


Bella is an 8 month old Great Dane puppy. Hambone took to her IMMEDIATELY. He made an absolute ASS out of himself over her. It was embarrassing. So obvious.

After work Bryant and I met my parents out for dinner. I had asked my father if he had wanted to have lunch w/ me that day but I got the response "I'm busy. Lunch with the boys. You can't come. Your are a girl and you will ruin everything." So I suggested happy hour. "What the hell is Happy Hour? Do you know how old I am? Your mother is coming now. You better buy us dinner. Where are we going? I'm hungry and your mother drinks a lot. Bring your wallet."

I decided that we would go to the Macaroni Grill. Because it was a place my mother had recently *discovered. "They have a great soup and salad for lunch. VERY reasonable."


So they were at the bar when we arrived. My father already knew the bartender and kept yelling orders to him. The bartender ignored him. After my father had gone through all the pictures on my phone to see what I had been up to lately "don't tell me - just let me see your damn phone. You take a picture of every goddamn second of your life anyways - why waste your breath. Plus I can't hear anything. You were on a prop plane? What kind of cheap company can't afford to send you up on a real plane? Wonder you didn't die."

My mother then wanted to talk about my trip to NYC. Not really to hear what I did up there - but to prime her favorite stories of working at the United Nations in the 60's.  Ahh to be a blonde, size 6 flight attendant living in New York. <blink> It amazes me she hasn't been killed over 100 times in her life.

So we sat down to a table finally. I had crayons and drew everyone on the paper table cloth. Bryant adjusted all of my drawings slightly (knowing that it irritated me). "Just draw your OWN drawings! Stop screwing with mine! Jerk. Go away."

We proceeded to drink a GIANT bottle of the house Chianti while my father treated the waiter like he was a South American Restaurant Owner. "Do you speak english? I want Soup. And more of that bread - cause they are going to want some too and I have to eat this whole one here. Do you have a good soup? I want A LOT of soup. a BIG bowl. Do you speak english? Did you make the soup? Cut stuff up, ya know? What is your name? Okay 'Carlo' well I like soup and need more of the bread. I like the warm bread. And leave that bottle of wine - cause you see what I'm dealing with here (he motioned to his wife)".

Saturday Yenny and I went to the new gym. I realized that I would walk for three full hours if they kept running movies in front of me. I am starting a new month of screwing with my routine. I have decided that I should drink less wine (this realization became brightly illuminated after dinner with my parents). So I will quit drinking for March and start exercising to reduce the size of my caboose.

I have joined weight watchers and have (thus far) eaten two croissants today.  I think I'll go screw up the dishwasher and refrigerator before Yenny gets home. She expects it.

Anyone who is dieting or pretending to not drink - please reach out to me with tips or stories of personal agony to make the time go faster.