Toots Magoots

My good boy with the beady little eyes and regal heart has cancer. It is a baddie. Since his diagnosis I have looked at his cute, cowlicked haunches and wondered, why are you hurting my Chili Bean?

It feels too hard to blog, because even though I try to hide it with posts about booze or pretty flowers, this is Moby’s blog. He clearly owns the masthead space, after all.

But because this is Moby’s blog, I need to keep posting about him. I need a place where I can see him sleep upside down, catch a view from the top of a mountain, or share a ray of sunshine with his little lady, Vee.

Oh Mosey Toes, let’s keep this party going.

Dry State?

We have friends in town so we are playing tourist in our hometown.

We took them to Park City to show off, our only viable option to make Utah have cool-kid street cred.

We stopped in at Wasatch Brewing Company to prove that Utahns are hipper than their liquor laws imply.

I had a sufficiently light beer for new beer drinking inductees.

And we took home a draft growler because 64 ounces of Utah brew is an excellent way to celebrate Easter.

First Mojito of the Season

The people who lived in our house before us may have made some questionable choices over the years, like the boneyard situation, but they did one thing right: mint. Thanks to their foresight, I have enough to get through the mint apocalypse.

Ostriching

Something good is in here, I am sure of it.

Wait wait . . .

Yep! Knew it!

Cautionary Tale

I feel like this sign should be tattooed on most people’s foreheads. But then, the message would be superfluous. Whoa man, I just took it real deep.