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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.)

A Cub Scouting Race Day


I really adore my son's Scouting group. I think I have actually learned more than he has. I am always excited to hear how to correctly start a fire or set a snare with a rope. (Rope can save your life. I shit you not.)

So, I am not surprised to find that some of the boys events are completely overtaken by the father's need to craft things. Today was the Pinewood Derby. It was my first time going. It was not theirs.

I called my ex-husband in advance to ask if I needed to bring anything special for the crafting of our car and he said

"No. I mean you aren't supposed to bring anything - you should just use the materials that are on-hand for everybody to use so that nobody has an advantage."

So I took that to mean bring 6 C-clamps, 5 kinds of sandpaper of varying grits, all purpose clamps, liquid nails, straight edges, 2 kinds of scissors, a carpet knife, some 3-in-1 oil and 28 high quality sharpies (including the metallic ones for lettering).

Which was nothing...


I won't get into a detailed list - but let's just say some of the dad's brought their entire garage. And then stopped and bought more on the drive over. I just laughed out loud. You could tell by the looks on their faces that they LIVED for this event. They were totally OCD. Some of the fathers even brought THEIR Fathers. Who brought THEIR tools. It was hysterical. They all pulled wheeled tool boxes in with trollys for the drill plungers and drum sanders. They had been eagerly awaiting this day to create THE winning derby car.

This dad has no idea he has children. He was like this for a long time.

But it was fun. We played with wood and power tools for a few hours. Tediously drilled holes in our beloved vehicles to hide weights in them. We detailed them. Named them. Entered them. And then waited what seemed like an eternity for the actual races to begin. I'm not kidding - today was three weeks long.

But we made some awesome cars.

Before you get judgey... these cars are upside down. Well, except for ours in the middle.It's possible some dads are still there. Still sanding. Humming. In a giant room with no women to bother them. Wearing shirts with patches and tassels from previous accomplishments. In their Zen space. God, it was fun to watch grown men have a ball like that.

I decided to let my son actually make most of his car himself. I wanted to see what he would come up with. And he did really well. But I had to step in when the car was not fully colored in (don't test my type-A nature child. You are clearly provoking me. Where is the marker? I need to have full color coverage. This is not kindergarten. Go play with your friends.)

He came in 3rd - which he was thrilled about. But after 8 hours in a gymnasium I was ready to go home.