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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.)

Kevin and Me


So I just started at the new job recently, and they gave me another iPhone. I am an embarrassment of riches most of the time. I know. So I immediately fwd'ed all calls to my personal phone so I wouldn't have to look after it. I am not coordinated enough (physically or mentally) to have two phones. I go through a full body seizure  every time the thing vibrates, plus I naturally yell "fuck!" too, which.. well it's simply beyond my control. And I do it EVERY time. Imagine having two. They would need to find a ward for me. It would be bad.

So I pretty much keep my new work phone in the drawer of my desk.

BUT... I check it from time to time when I am bored on a conference call and I noticed that I was getting some txt messages on that number.

That excited me. So what I learned about myself is this: getting messages from people 'I know' is jarring and prompts me to voilently yell explatives - but getting notes from strangers... well you'd think I came across a baby bunny. My face light's up and my neck collapses into my shoulders while I bring the phone in to read the words not meant for me. I love to read txt messages from strangers. I LOVE being accidentally contacted. Glimpsing into a 'world not my own'.

Enter Kevin.

K: "Hey, I'm going to swing by and borrow BB your charger. Left mine at the office."

Me: "I wouldn't do that."

K: "Why not?"

Me: "I don't have a BB and you don't know where I am."

K: "Stop being weird."


and then days would pass.

K: "Are you running late?"

Me: "No. I'm here."

K:"Where are you?"

Me: "By the window."

K:"Which one? What are you wearing?"

Me: "Window with the tree outside of it. I'm wearing track pants and a DC Rollergirls T-Shirt. What are you wearing?"

K: "What?"

I began to love our conversations. I looked forward to him writing. I felt it was interesting that he never checked with the person he spent so much time with to try and sort out the confusing txt messages. I began to wonder if we were married or just dating. Or if Kevin was my gay friend. I suspected he was not gay because he did not immediately address my query about what he was wearing. All the gay guys I know would have had that out in two blinks, along with associated designer names. No, Kevin was a heterosexual.

I was on a long call the other day and just decided to txt him to see if he missed me.

He did.

And when I didn't write him back immediately he became needy. I disliked this quality in Kevin.

So I broke up with him.

this is me taking a picture of my iphone with an iphone txting to my fake ex-husband and/or boyfriend Kevi

I became the Reality Police and pulled the curtain down. It's sad. Now I don't have anyone to fake txt.