The Thug Life

With all this drama in the WDC, it's pretty hard being Nancy Pel-o-si.

C-Span held more drama than an episode of the Jersey Shore last night. Two minutes of yielded time to the Gentle Men and Ladies of our 50 states each resulted in mini-soap operas of epic proportions. After a weekend that featured racial epithets slung at John Lewis and homophobic slurs hurled at Barney Frank, one would think that the floor debate would offer a welcome recalibration of civility. But one would be wrong. It was passionate, it was climatic, it was nearly Shakespearean. IT WAS AWESOME.

In between the doom and gloom of the right and the elation mixed with a bit of I-told-you-sos of the left, real substance about the nature and future of our nation unfolded in the hallowed chamber and the legislative branch of our nation rediscovered its soul. The hard work on Health Care Reform, its implementation, is forthcoming but the passion from both sides last night was a redemptive splash of democracy in action.

GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO 'Merica!!

In like a Lion, out like a Lamb.

Spring sprang in Boston this weekend, reminding us all why we endure the long, arduous tundra of winter in our colonial  city; the novelty of a rare sunny day fills us with exaggerated joy.  I half expected to look up and see a cartoon blue bird on my shoulder today as seemingly every pale, sluggish Bostonian reemerged, excited to engage in any activity that allowed for the Vitamin D from which we'd been so deprived for months.   It was a veritable Where's Waldo: Springtime Scene.

Thus the beginning of Dog Park season kicked off for me and my dear friend Beth.  Neither Beth nor I have a dog.  Yet, we both want a dog- for financial reasons (me) and fascist apartment complex rules (Beth) we are unable to commit to pet ownership.  Instead, we live vicariously through the wonder that is the Charlestown Dog Park (CDP).  Our pattern is predictable, we choose the walking route that 'casually' takes us by the CDP.  We don our most inculpable faces as we sidle up to the park, desperately hoping that the dog owners that casually chat and toss Frisbees to their respective Champion/Tiger/Rover* will assume we are One Of Them.  We squat and pat our laps, make whistley-kissey noises and regret not packing a spare piece of bacon or two in our coat pockets as we attempt to get the cutest dogs to come play with us.   Beth tries to make friends with beagle owners, I try to scope out any single guys with cute dogs.  Neither one of us has the nerve to approach and make the first move- too afraid of rejection, not wanting to risk our anonymity that allows us to continue our frequent visits to the CDP.  

In short: we are the dog park creeps, just one step short of being the guys with the windowless van with treats inside.  Totally fine. 

* Bonus points for those of you who recognized those dog names as options for Annie's dog prior to settling on Sandy.