I took a break from everything Saturday and spent the day at the farm doing a bunch of not much. Before lunch, mom and dad scurried around picking vegetables, hoeing, and fertilizing the garden- which is looking pretty good so far this year. Continue reading
I just ran across a quote by Walt Whitman that made my record player skip a few bars:
We were together. I forget the rest.
My gyro is acting a little bit wonky right now.
When driving out of the neighborhood in Brandon the other morning, I noticed something about the houses. None of them had front porches large enough to serve any purpose other than keeping a visitor dry during a rain event while waiting on an occupant of the house to answer the door. The porches were certainly not large enough to relax or entertain guests on. That outdoor entertaining duty has been shifted to back porches and patios hidden from view by tall wood fences. Continue reading
There are only a few days left until the donation window closes for the 2017 MDA Muscle Walk. This has been my first foray into fundraising, and I have to say it’s not easy. I’ve spent a lot of time shaking the trees, hoping something would fall out. Continue reading
My house in Vicksburg is for sale and I’ve got contractors going in and out refinishing, painting, fixing, sprucing, trimming, replacing, and cleaning everything I can think of and/or afford in hopes of making the house nicer than it ever was while I lived in it so that someone will walk in the door and beg me to let them pay me a trainload of money for it. Isn’t that a little depressing that I’m making my house nicer so that someone else can enjoy it? Continue reading
I chatted Friday morning with a coworker who emigrated from Colombia about 20 years ago as a young adult. We were having just your regular old chit chat, nothing special, coworker-type conversation that many of you also had, I’m sure. Then, for some reason, I asked if she’d seen the Netflix series Narcos and if it was an accurate portrayal of what life was like in Bogota during the reign of Pablo Escobar and the warring drug cartels. Continue reading
Lately, I’ve struggled with my Zen. In fact, it’s been a sneaky little booger, trying its hardest to elude me. Just when I get a fingertip on it, it lets out a noxious cabbage fart, temporarily immobilizing me as it runs and hides in a darkened house of mirrors. Continue reading
August awoke, his head pounding, confused, like an aged amateur boxer struggling to figure out what day it was. He struggled to sit upright, fighting against the snarled cordage ensnaring him, and then, he paused for a moment, laying still as his senses came back online slowly, one after the other until the events from the night before became clearer. Continue reading
This morning, at the best church in a 250-mile radius, my super groovy priest, Father Chuck, announced my MDA event that’s coming up at the end of next month after so graciously offering to last week. (Humorous side note: He officiated my marriage and spilled the communion wine in his car on the way to the ceremony.) Continue reading
Dub was toiling away in his cubicle at the company his father-in-law owned, processing raw material invoices when his wife’s father stopped in to see him.
“Knock, Knock,” he said jokingly, vaguely mocking Dub’s doorless workstation. Continue reading