Maybe I should change Goblin’s name to Hazel Crackernut, Domestic Servant.

Last night, Rob and I had dinner with the incomparable Jen, who also lives in Baltimore, also blogs, and also has a Boston terrier. We discussed getting her little creature together with Hazel Crackernut, a meeting that would undoubtedly end in bloodshed, heartache, and enough stories to dine out upon for a millennium.

I do fully intend to live for an entire millennium, and so does Hazel née Goblin.

In other news, we are in a tizzy here (a tizzy, I tell you!) preparing for the weekend visit of Crash, who arrives portentously in the midst of Artscape. Artscape, for those of you who have no idea, is a large festival that occurs yearly in Baltimore directly outside my front door. This is mainly an excuse for people to close the streets to traffic, drink too much booze, and make an ungodly racket; at least two of these are favorite hobbies of dear Crash, and I am quite certain he can be persuaded as to the third.

Holy smokes, when did I get so social? Someone call an ambulance.