Then This Happened: Part 273

There's almost always a reasonable way out. Please be aware of your nearest exit.

Then This Happened: Part 272

Sometimes a cookie is all anyone needs to feel better. I think I'm going to start baking.

Do you bake?

There are days when I would do almost anything for a batch of these.

Then This Happened: Part 271

In the thick of it.

Then This Happened: Part 270

Then This Happened: Part 269

A commotion below.

Then This Happened: Part 268

I think I already miss being able to drive to the water at a moment's notice. It's when you're landlocked that you start to wish you had gone to the ocean more often.

Then This Happened: Part 267

They were good. So, so good.

Then This Happened: Part 266

It was a blue sky day.

TOKYO.

I want to go to Tokyo. via Josh Spear.


inter // states from Samuel Cockedey on Vimeo.

THE DBA 98 PEN.

A nice concept and a great little video to present it. A pen capable of generating change and having a positive impact on our planet by making a minimal impact to the planet. I hope that makes sense. via Max Wanger.


DBA 98 Biodegradable Pen from DBA on Vimeo.

Then This Happened: Part 265

An Empire State icon.

Then This Happened: Part 264

Get ready. Fall is here.

Then This Happened: Part 263

There's some green in the city.

Then This Happened: Part 262

NYC living. For some.

Then This Happened: Part 261

I think this was taken in the Flower District.

Then This Happened: Part 260

Mod.

Good Night, Ladd

The worst part about growing up with dogs is having to someday say goodbye.

We lost Ladd today. He was fourteen years old and he lived those years pretty well. I would try to claim that he was fourteen years young but the fact of the matter is that he lived an incredibly full life for a lab and he passed because it was time. I'm thankful that I'm not heartbroken because of tragedy and that Ladd lived the life that he did.

But that doesn't make it much easier to say goodbye and that doesn't mean that my heart isn't broken.

When we lost Keifer last year, I realized how much I had grown because of him and how much better I was about appreciating the dog that he was as we both got older and as I "grew up." Losing Ladd will be no exception. He was the first puppy that I got to grow up with and I remember in great detail that day that he came home with my dad. He was a small, yellow thing with a slightly terrified look on his face but it didn't take much time for him to feel right at home. Before long, he was chasing tennis balls across the living room and sliding past them and into the opposite wall because puppy paws don't provide much traction on hardwood floors.

Just like Keifer, Ladd was around for all of the years in which I was a juvenile, selfish, sometimes frustrated, and often confused teenager. I regret that Ladd sometimes caught the brunt of all of that but I'm thankful that he was just as forgiving and forgetful as his slightly younger counterpart. I don't think I ever really deserved his forgiveness but the beauty of dogs is that they are dedicated to you or your family through and through.

Ladd was certainly his own dog and that's what we loved about him. In his prime he had the most rock-solid butt of any lab I have ever seen and he chased tennis balls with reckless abandon and raw speed. He was notorious for sneaking food off of the counter if no one was in the kitchen with him and guilty more than a few times of snatching whole loaves of bread and devouring them in the backyard. He barked at hot air balloons, constantly pushed the door in to get back into the house if you forgot to lock it behind you, and was always looking for the golden opportunity to sneak out the front gate and go "dumpster diving" for an afternoon. I don't think we loved those things at the time but in hindsight we can't help but shake our heads and smile. There are just so many stories about Ladd but I suppose that should be a given with fourteen years to look back on.

You were a great dog, Laddy. Thanks for the years that you spent with us and thanks for being patient with me. I wish I had loved you a little better when I was younger but, just like with Keif, I'm glad I got to love you the way I did by the end.

I hope that garbage that you tore into just the other night was worth it and that you got your fill. I'm really going to miss you.

Good Night, Ladd

The worst part about growing up with dogs is having to someday say goodbye.

We lost Ladd today. He was fourteen years old and he lived those years pretty well. I would try to claim that he was fourteen years young but the fact of the matter is that he lived an incredibly full life for a lab and he passed because it was time. I'm thankful that I'm not heartbroken because of tragedy and that Ladd lived the life that he did.

But that doesn't make it much easier to say goodbye and that doesn't mean that my heart isn't broken.

When we lost Keifer last year, I realized how much I had grown because of him and how much better I was about appreciating the dog that he was as we both got older and I "grew up." Losing Ladd has been no exception. He was the first puppy that I got to grow up with and I can remember in great detail the day that he came home with my dad. He was a small, yellow thing with a slightly terrified look on his face but it didn't take much time for him to feel right at home. Before long, he was chasing tennis balls across the living room and sliding past them and into the opposite wall because puppy paws don't provide much traction on hardwood floors.

Just like Keifer, Ladd was around for all of the years in which I was a juvenile, selfish, sometimes frustrated, and often confused teenager. I regret that Ladd sometimes caught the brunt of all of that but thankful that he was just as forgiving and forgetful as his slightly younger counterpart. I never deserved his forgiveness but the beauty of a dog is that they are dedicated to you or your family through and through.

Ladd was certainly his own dog and that's what we loved about him. In his prime he had the most rock-solid butt of any lab I have ever seen and he chased tennis balls with reckless abandon and raw speed. He was notorious for sneaking food off of the counter if no one was in the kitchen with him and guilty more than a few times of snatching loaves of bread and devouring them in the backyard. He barked at hot air balloons, constantly pushed the door in to get back into the house if you forgot to lock it behind you, and was always looking for the golden opportunity to sneak out the front gate and go "dumpster diving" for an afternoon. I don't think we loved those things at the time but in hindsight we can't help but shake our heads and smile. There are just so many stories about that dog and I suppose that should be a given with fourteen years to look back on.

You were a great dog, Laddy. Thanks for the great years that you spent with us and thanks for being patient with me. I wish I had loved you a little better when I was younger but again, just like with Keif, I'm glad I got to love you the way I did by the end.

I hope that garbage that you tore into just the other night was worth it and that you got your fill. I'm really going to miss you.

Then This Happened: Part 259

Let's make a movie.

Then This Happened: Part 258

Pacific Beach lowrider.

Then This Happened: Part 257

A sunny Saturday in the city isn't a bad way to spend a day.

Then This Happened: Part 256

Leaving the lights on.

Then This Happened: Part 255

The architectural variety in New York City is simply staggering. It's everywhere and it's awesome.

Then This Happened: Part 254

So many different people with so many different stories and all headed to different destinations. That's pretty much the city, right?

Then This Happened: Part 253

A little late today. Dinner was so good tonight. Homemade fish tacos with Mahi Mahi, green cabbage, sliced radishes, pickled red onions, avocado, and crema. Plate them with some arroz verde and black beans and you've got a winner. I wish I was capable of this but I have a lot to learn before my homemade dinners turn out this well. Someday!

Then This Happened: Part 252

Don't mind if I do!

Then This Happened: Part 251

I have miles to go before I sleep.