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.


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.)

Q: What are weird things you do when you are alone? (Healey)


To be honest, I’m not alone much. Or if I am, I’m orbiting the beltway with 9 million of my closest disgruntled DC commuter friends. Which doesn’t feel like being alone. 

But I suppose there are those times … [pause] ... you know, ...those times. 

Those times when maybe a Taylor Swift song comes on and you catch yourself singing to it in the mirror. Do you stop? Do you grimace in horror at how gauche you are, a middle aged woman dramatically singing along to a song sung by a girl the size of your thigh?

No. No you take that quiet lip-sync moment reflection and EXPLODE it in to a spectacle of microphone clutching, hair whipping, contorted bedazzlement. You almost hurt yourself on the furniture. The dog nervously exits the room as you do a partial back bend, silently hitting the very highest notes while waving one hand around as if you have 3 inch fingernails that need to be stretched and spaced apart into the breeze blowing on stage. 

Then the song ends and you don’t like the next one so you quietly go back to scrutinizing the inventory of freckles on your nose in the bathroom mirror, wondering if one might be a melanoma or an errant glob of peanut butter off your morning toast.

Remember when Lindsey was cute? Poor Lilo. :(

Remember when Lindsey was cute? Poor Lilo. :(