A typical scene in the house of Irons. Mom rests, watching her Bulls struggle and lose. Our dog, Blackie, curls up out after a hard day of, well, sleeping. Usually he is so gone that no amount of blankets atop him will cause a stir. Luckily, on this occasion, it was the head-end sticking out and not the ass-end. That spot is most certainly his spot; and comes complete with a drool cover on the couch. No portfolio is complete without the warmth and everydayness of the domestic sphere. This, my friends, is comfort; as epitomized by my weary puppy.
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