We’re not sure what happened, actually. Fred was fine. And then he wasn’t. On Monday we were playing with his favorite tug toy and he was barking at phantom... Read More
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… on signs, signs, everywhere premature signs
I was in Maine for a couple of days this week, surveying the black hole that is not really a black hole, especially not any more because it is... Read More
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… on karma
A few weeks ago I share the story of Fred just walking off the edge of our raised patio, even though I’d told the Nearly Perfect Husband to keep... Read More
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… on meeting ms. matty
Sometimes, when I take my time and pay attention, the best things happen. This afternoon, Gabe, the self-proclaimed perfect boy was volunteering with a little kids’ class at the... Read More
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… on an ode to a skin horse
Ode to a Skin Horse I knew you were there Under layers Of storm after storm Year after year Slowly, bit by bit Your rust, your dents Journeys and... Read More
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… on death considerations and writing
Yesterday I went to visit my friends in New York and we spent a lot of the time there talking about writing and the creative process. We also got... Read More
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… on gifts of food
When I was about 18 or 19 years old, I went to live with Granny and Grampa at their small house on Parham Road in Tyngsboro, Massachusetts. Only back... Read More
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… on black and white and shades of grey (but not 50 shades)
That’s the bottle of wine (not wHine) that I was opening up the other night, just before some pretty awesome humans arrived, frigidly and snowed-upon, at our door. At... Read More
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… on life imitating art
There’s more snow on the driveway. Ya, I know. Shocker. Doesn’t it look all sweet and fresh and, oh, I dunno… Pure as the driven snow? You know what? There... Read More
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… on the mercy of a genius
I am an Apple fan. Love the products, love the marketing, love the cool and hip vibe of being one of those people who ‘think different’. It’s a bit... Read More
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… on a low-down, underhanded, sneaky theft
In 2002, while Granny and Grampa (the Old Yankee Man) were in Florida, Grampa’s dog died. Sunny was a ‘pound dog’. A collie/shepherd/who-knows-what-else mix. JoHn and I had chosen... Read More
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… on hows and whys
How can you listen When he struggles to find a word When his topics shift Like grains of sand on a snow white beach? I just listen. Why don’t... Read More