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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.)

The State Fair


I walked into the office this morning and - it coming up on a holiday weekend and today being a slightly abbreviated workday - my co-workers were were all cheerfully conversing over what their plans were for the three day leave.

The subject of a State Fair came up and I was drawn in like a fly-to-potato-salad. I had not even gotten to my office yet and I was still holding my awkward boat bag (that is my version of a briefcase… or the purse of Shrek's Bride Fiona if she was a jaunty nautical type.) So I injected myself into their conversation (as I do) and waited to hear more about their reflections on "the State Fair."

It sounded so wonderfully 1950's with bizarre, exotic displays and pigs as pink as balloons snorting about. Ladies in bold printed dresses with funny eyeglasses and children pinned with 4H badges.

So basically I envision the Hollywood representation of the musical by the same name. Visuals you only see on AMC, TMC or after a heady hour in the chair at the dentists office.

Your hands feel weird on my mouth. Are those my lips? Hehe, they feel like rubber tubing. I like you. It smells pretty in here. Are you sleeping with your hygienist. Does your wife know? I know. <smile> I can't feel my back. Like my whole back. Isn't that weird? Hehe, sigh.

So the guys were saying that at the State Fair there is this attraction. It's "The World's Smallest Woman." Seemingly everyone but me had already been. I became nervous that I had misplaced my attention to cultural events by going to Broadway and the Kennedy Center. I was a fool. These people knew REAL exotic culture. Exotic Carnie Culture. Strange, frightening and exciting. Perverse.

It seems that there is this attraction where you only have to pay ONE DOLLAR (I am such a fool. Arena Stage is SUCH a rip off. Never going back. Though last years Oklahoma was interesting 'in the round." No. Screw them.) ONE DOLLAR and you gained entrance to this mystical domed hut. One person at a time would enter. Alone. And round the corner and witness. Her. There. Alive. Staring back. And she was small. And angry.

Listening to them all regale each other with their reactions from memory I started to ball my hands into impatient fists at my sides. How had I not seen this? I had explained to the universe early on that I was open to experiences. I had been trying to find a state fair for YEARS - but obviously they HIDE it. My state obviously had decided that I was not to be marketed to. Insanity. How quickly could I get this day over and done with and FIND MY WAY TO RECTIFYING THIS SITUATION. I WILL be at a State Fair in the next 48 hours or death be mine. (okay that was over dramatic) But I wanted to see this attraction. And I knew it even more when the coffee clutch broke and one of the participants IM'd me these two Flickr photographs. Proving. That it was everything I thought it was. And a wee bit more. She was weird. ONE DOLLAR. omg.

World's Smallest Woman

and (wait for it….) her.

so angry.