Need a garment, especially an undergarment? Arwen's your man. Problem is, she steals as readily as she goes and finds, so various and sundry clothing items get snatched from suitcases as fast as you put them in there, with ninja-like speed and stealth, and then you discover them later in a dog bed or on the kitchen floor, or wherever Smaug's lair du jour happens to be.

I've just finished packing for Boston, and because it's springtime in Boston, that means packing for three seasons, and doing that for regular, everyday clothes, and again for running clothes.

And packing a bag for the dogs, who are of course coming with. Food, treats, balls, towels, leads, collars, brand new tags, medications, vaccination paperwork : check, check, check. 

Stripes is already on high alert and is in hiding, in case all of this ostensible travel planning might involve her little furry, feline self. 

I've succumbed to Tim's cold. Today I feel like a bag of poo. I'm hoping that it will have run its course by the time Marathon Monday comes around. Get it? Run?