Sunday, May 22, 2011


We (me, Clara, Winton, Hardie) met a friend of Clara's from school today at a local greenspace referred on googlemaps as "dog poop park."
No evidence of poop this morning, but several large dogs.

I am now utterly shattered.

What is it about "playdates" that is so completely fatiguing?
a) Small talk with new adults?
b) Children scattering in all directions like a dropped bag of beads?
c) Baltimore humidity?
d) Hardie's sumo-wrestler-esque leash manners?
e) Clearly, all of the above.

I'd watch cooking shows on TV now if our satellite dish weren't broken . . .

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