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.)

I am aging rapidly over here...

Healey

me. seriously, this was taken this morning.I’d always heard that when you break the envelope on the age of 40  - your parts start to fall off. Having been a person where parts have been breaking or falling off of me as a normal state of affairs my whole life, I never really gave it much thought.

But I am turning into a granny at a breakneck speeds over here in other ways.

First off - Inability to heal from injury. There is some debate over how I did it – but about a month ago I fractured my right heel. I was a good girl and went to the doctor to get a picture of it. They said it was fractured and I kept looking at the x-ray [squinting] going “where?” “I don’t see where.” As if they were lying and I had accidently found myself in their office under some power other than my own.

I counseled them that I would not wear a soft cast. “Let’s save ourselves the fleecing of the healthcare system and just not give me one.” It was summer in DC and soft casts do one thing – and one thing only in that atmosphere. Stink like ‘who shit and ran’. That’s what. It’s like a mobile museum for body odor and I wanted no part of it.

Then I viewed them all contemptuously as they gave me very ugly crutches that make an annoying clicking sound each time I moved.  I spent 1.5 days on them and decided that it would be safer to drive my car into a wall than continue on inflicting the level of chiropractic damage I was doing to myself on the blasted crutches. My spine was now entirely out of alignment and my palms and underarms had (WHAT SHOULD HAVE BEEN) visible bruising. I sucked at crutches and was one with it. Arrived home one afternoon and threw the evil prop into the yard while telling it to go f itself. Never looked back. (eventually someone picked it up)(It was a clear sign I was home to the neighbors).

Crutches: The MusicalSo I fully expected the injury to just go away. It still hasn’t. I’d ask all of you to avoid asking my boyfriend for solutions. He’s full of them. But they involve tiresome and pathetic approaches (that sometimes involve casts and crutches). He’s useless in regards to finding a REAL solution.

Obsessive ‘Collecting’ – It has occurred to me that I have become a hoarder of tissues. I do believe it started coincidentally around my 40th birthday. (eerie, really.)

Evidence: My purse as of 1 minute ago.In that time I have become a connoisseur of paper products. I can open my purse and pull out up to NINE different types of tissue and/or napkin type products. I shit you not. I instinctively grab stacks of napkins from the ladies lavatory at really nice restaurants with little embarrassment. I will look right back at you while taking these items as if to say “oh please, this is the good stuff. And duh – it’s free. Do you see a sign saying “One for you and none for the road?” – I don’t”.

I could easily wash a limo with the contents of my purse. I have no idea what to do with the amount I am collecting. My unused purses are taking on the shape of the Macy’s pillow department. I actually ‘recycled’ two whole armloads of tissues a week ago.  It’s like I am instinctively preparing for a snot meteor shower. Wtf?

I am BLIND without my glasses. There actually isn’t anything funny to say about that. It’s just true. I can’t see shit and it isn’t safe. I’m out there on the road driving a vehicle (while checking email, listening to an audio-book and trying to find something beneath the tissue layer in my purse). I wake up in a cold panic wondering if I left my glasses somewhere. Not having sight will render me ENTIRELY USELESS as a human. This is scary stuff.

While contemplating my old-ladi-ness I ran across this image. It’s Yenny at 72. Italian after all these years.