Last night I lay awake nearly until dawn, a very real pit bull snoring in my ear, a metaphorical hornet’s nest in my head. It was just one of those times — when, no matter how hard you might try to force it to quiet down, your brain doesn’t want to stop buzzing. You know the ...
Because I write and I love horror movies, people often ask if I’ve ever considered penning a screenplay. My friend Matt — who has worked on a few scary films himself in the past — pokes me about it incessantly, in fact. But although I’m a fan, it’s never really occurred to me ...
If you’ve been to Costa Rica, you know they have a particular national slogan. The two words are everywhere — on menus, on signs, on the lips of nearly everyone you meet. Costa Ricans use the phrase constantly, to mean anything from “thank you,” to “hello,” to “no worries,” to “you’re welcome,” to “goodbye” at the end of a phone call — or one of those ubiquitous WhatsApp voice messages they love to send. The words grace T-shirts and tank tops and hand-painted doodads of all sizes, shapes and purpose — perhaps to remind shopping tourists what it ...
As the rest of the world — the holiday-celebrating portion of it, anyway — busily works to scratch names and tasks off their lists, I’m winding down from one of my fondest Christmases in memory. While it was early, it was wonderful, full of family and thoughtful presents and (far too many) fresh, hot doughnuts. But as delightful as it was for the humans, the real winners this year were my dogs. Because not only did they make out like bandits — albeit adorable, furry ones — they’ve also managed to appropriate a good many of my gifts along with their ...
Last weekend I uttered three little words to Chad that I never thought I’d say to a man. Or to anyone, honestly. We had just wrapped up our second day hiking with the dogs during our pets-included stay at Cacapon Resort State Park. The first afternoon and evening were spent exploring the trails around the lodge, and the next checking out the historic town of Harpers Ferry. Given Moo’s attitude around other animals, our excursion wasn’t exactly stress-free — every other dog owner in the universe seemed to have similar plans — but it was an ...
When I was a kid, I didn’t have a dollhouse. I had a mouse house. The concept was the same — a tiny replica of a home, filled with itty bitty furniture, occupied by a miniature family. But instead of little humans, the inhabitants of my model were murine. Good behavior on my part was often rewarded with a trip my favorite gift shop, called Patches, where I would pick out a new resident. The mice were made with real fur (a troublesome fact that did not register with me as a child) and clothed in cute costumes. My eclectic rodent commune boasted a painter, a ...
