The Fucking Dog

That’s my complaint of the day, the fucking dog.  He’s a lovely dog, an ugly rescued Pitbull…but that fucking dog. He is particularly needy or I am particularly sensitive to his normal camping at the beach needs any dog may have.  Either way he’s on my last fucking nerve, he’s breathing so therefore he is … Continue reading The Fucking Dog

The Husband Is Butt Hurt I Blog & Mommy Will Wipe His Tears

Mean while in my reality I'm on day two camping and so far I’ve yet to pull fully from the underlying funk that has permeated just being here & he hasn't relapsed, killed me, chopped me into tiny pieces & thrown me into the inlet. Last night a practically low moment where I holed out … Continue reading The Husband Is Butt Hurt I Blog & Mommy Will Wipe His Tears

Where Would The Addict Husband Hide A Body At A Campsite?

I’m woefully unprepared for our annual camping trip, at times I’m pulled in uncomfortable directions emotionally… depending on what day it is.  We camp in MA, same place, same time of year, same site, a handful of acres on top of a peninsula where the North River and Atlantic Ocean meet. Mostly untouched and off … Continue reading Where Would The Addict Husband Hide A Body At A Campsite?