Cricket Davis
March 6, 2000 - June 15, 2015
He had quirks as well, or perhaps just elevated taste. The family soon learned why he arrived at their home with a never-been-touched bag of dry dog food. It wasn't simply a kind gesture from his previous owners—Cricket rejected all dog food. Within weeks, Donna had begun cooking him dinners of chicken or beef, usually served with a side of rice or whatever the family was having. Lasagna was by far a favorite. He enjoyed eating from a fork and spoon, drinking from a cup and always wiped his mouth after dinner.
From their Perry Hall home, surrounded by fields, forest and a swimming pool, Cricket lived a life of adventure. He'd romp about the Gunpowder Falls State Park, chasing deer and squirrels and howling gleefully with a rooster-like crow at foxes. He would eventually return home, grinning broadly, his short "hot dog" tail shaking with excitement and his curls caked with brambles and tiny balls of natural green velcro. Donna would spend hours combing them out. As far as his family knew, Cricket never caught any other animals, beyond the occasional frog or spider, but his smile said otherwise. He relished in moments of wildness, knowing a warm bed and hot meal awaited him back home.
Just once, Cricket couldn't find his way home. As a young dog, he would occasionally run the neighborhood, never getting into too much trouble and returning home within 30 minutes. But that night, he wasn't home for dinner and he wasn't home for bed. There seemed to be no trace of him anywhere in the neighborhood. Missing dog signs soon lined Schroeder Avenue's utility polls, but no one called. Days and many prayers passed. Until suddenly, the call came. Cricket was locked up in Baltimore County Animal Services many miles away in Baldwin, Maryland. Only wearing his rabies tag (his other tags were torn off with pliers, possibly by a dog thief), the shelter used his vaccination records to locate his family. No one seemed more relieved than Cricket to be found. He yelped and pounced at the door of his cage when he heard the voices of his family. His time in the slammer changed him. He rarely strayed too far from home ever again.
Cricket could be a prima donna at times (he preferred being blow-dried after a bath), but he always respected authority. When Maryland Governor Bob Ehrlich arrived at the house for a campaign fundraiser, Cricket sat on his feet, establishing that the governor had his personal stamp of approval. When Ray, Donna's father, visited Cricket would raise his chin and speak at length about whatever was on his mind, sounding out long wordy sentences. Ray would respond in turn. Sometimes the conversation would turn to politics. This could go on for minutes at a time. He loved Dad-Dad visits.
Cricket was the family mascot, donning a tuxedo at Jen and Jeff's wedding, patrolling the gardens and swimming area all summer long at countless parties, wearing bunny ears and bows to over a dozen Easter egg hunts. He was the honorary pet dog to so many children, he let them pet, prod, smother and follow him around all with patience and understanding. He made countless trips to the airport, where his favorite people seemed to
come and go continuously. He welcomed Matt and Donna's growing brood of grandchildren with kisses year after year.
Aging wasn't without difficulties, illness or pain - he didn't complain. He lived long and joyfully. He loved and was loved deeply by so many.
obit written by emily pope
and every year I miss the opportunity. So this year I scheduled a trip for the first weekend in December, back in the beginning of November! It was an easy going trip (not typical – I usually have every second planned, but not this time, I needed the break – We drove up Friday toured and strolled and returned Sunday. 
The grand ballroom was filled with trees and a single red chair for Santa Claus. The Breaker’s first floor veranda offered eggnog, cider and cookies
The Elem’s Mantels were amazing, snow cover topiary trees, sticks, cardinals all nestled in with the mantel statue. 
and a grand poinsettia tree was the focal point of the room.
I have found the time 11:11 is almost magical and continually appearing, it happens to follow me where and when ever I am– 11:11 – it plays peek-a-boo of sorts and usually I find it right at the right moment – but today I lay in wait to pay tribute - As this is the 11th day of the 11th month of the 11th year, at exactly 11:11, I tribute with this post an Ode to Eleven, Eleven, Eleven at Eleven, Eleven. Enjoy the findings. 
you are, then you are experiencing the strange 11:11 phenomenon. It is one that defies all logic. Everyday, millions of people are mysteriously propelled to look at the time at exactly 11 minutes past the hour. And the numbers show up wherever they go. It's sneaked up to you silently, without warning. Just like it always does. There's simply no escape. The harder you try to get away, the more relentlessly it pursues you. It stares you in the face, plain and square: The Number 11. 
These 11:11 Wake-Up Calls on your digital clocks, mobile phones, VCR’s and microwaves are the "trademark" prompts of a group of just 1,111 fun-loving Spirit Guardians, or Angels, and the 11:11 prompt is their way of using our innate ability for pattern recognition to let us know that they are here. 
Romantic, Tragic. Bravo, Bellisimo, Cheers to Baltimore Opera! I was fortunate to attend the opening night as a guest with friends Amy and Phil (Phil is in the Orchestra). While opera is not for everyone, it is delightful, albeit lengthy, but truly a delicious pageantry - a feast for the eyes, ears, and heart. Music and tale come to life with amazing arias and enchanting costumes all set on the backdrop of an amazing elaborate and decadent stage, visually sweeping you away to another place and time. 
“Grand Opera is undeniably back in Baltimore and as a city and arts community we are better off for it. The gorgeous sets, beautiful singing, talented musicians, and stage direction was a reward for all of the hard work it takes behind the scenes to make opera happen. The enthusiasm is still there both on stage and in the audience. This is no longer an opera company taking gratuitous risks to appease some mythical “public” but a company that is relying on its strengths to bring high quality performances to Baltimore. I can think of no better way to rebuild opera’s presence here than to strive for excellence and value in each facet of the company. That is why I join the audience from opening night in saying “bravo” to Lyric Opera Baltimore.” Quotation and Baltimore Photo Credits: 
Alexandre Dumas, fils. Sung in Italian with English surtitles (thank you!) Verdi’s immortal telling of the story of the Lady of the Camellias is an opera lovers’ dream, full of passion, sacrifice, love, death, and redemption. The glamorous courtesan Violetta has finally found real love in the embrace of Alfredo. She must give him up for the sake of honor, and unknowing, he heartlessly denounces her in a scene of public humiliation. They reunite on her death bed and she passes into eternity knowing that she at last knew true love. STARRING: 
ACT III. In Violetta's bedroom six months later, Dr. Grenvil tells Annina her mistress has not long to live: tuberculosis has claimed her. Alone, Violetta rereads a letter from Germont saying the Baron was only wounded in his duel with Alfredo, who knows all and is on his way to beg her pardon. But Violetta senses it is too late ("Addio del passato"). Paris is celebrating Mardi Gras and, after revelers pass outside, Annina rushes in to announce Alfredo. The lovers ecstatically plan to leave Paris forever ("Parigi, o cara"). Germont enters with the doctor before Violetta is seized with a last resurgence of strength. Feeling life return, she staggers and falls dead at her lover's feet.
This is where the locals go to get their fresh goods like fruits, vegetables and meats. Much better prices than the regular grocery store, there’s also the link to local culture – sellers tell you which fruits are ripe – describe an unusual fruit or vegetable and tell you how they prepare it. Beautiful Market, sights, sounds,the bustle of shoppers, and smells – fruity floral with wafts of durian, and dead fish and meat – sometimes a little pungent. People going about their business, and me- the tourist, photographing the experience! Jen and Jeff hadn’t taken photos of the wet market yet – I guess that would be like me taking photos in an American market – but then I realized, I do just that at home too – I love the look of fruits and vegetables piled on top of each other – raw beauty. My market purchase: a bag of green tomatoes… I was so excited - yum! I had fried green tomatoes in March, in Singapore! Mmmm!
