I chased that little jerk around the yard. I guess one could call it "playing," if you're into that sort of thing. Let me take this opportunity to remind everyone that this is my house. MY house. My stick. MY house.
A few weeks back, we decided to adopt this little Pomeranian/Chihuahua pup who was in need of a home. We needed another dog like I always need a fifth glass of wine, but we couldn't say no to this little face.
Mark Wahlberg, better known as Cakes, flew into Logan Airport on Saturday and came home.
All of us, even big brother Ozzie, are doing well.
...we spent the evening al fresco. And then... I was given some disturbing news that I am not going to be an only child much longer.
I don't know how to feel.
Since the bombings at the Boston Marathon, I have sat down in front of my keyboard quite a few times. I wanted to write something. Something eloquent and expressive that evoked just how I was feeling.
But it has proven pretty difficult to do.
That first post, the day after; I intended to elaborate. To express my overwhelming gratitude to the people who took action that day. Condolences to the victims and their families who are suffering from this absolutely senseless tragedy.
I wanted to articulate just how very thankful and humbled I am for this life.
But with every key stroke, the words became a bit more blurry and the story increasingly convoluted and I just...couldn't. I was a mess. So I thought, again, I would write something that Friday for my Faves column that I often do.
But then I awoke to find my city on lockdown that day, and making any commentary about this chaotic tale as it continued to unfurl seemed inappropriate.
And so now, two and a half weeks have gone by. I have cooked. I have photographed. I am typing this without salty tears gracing my lips. I have started to carry on.
But I still feel it so necessary to write about it. And not just about the tragedy, but the absolute, staggering love I have for this city. It has been said by so many in the past few weeks, but after a lifetime in Massachusetts and eleven years in the "Bean", it really couldn't ring more true: Boston, you're my home.
