I have received many messages over the past few months of this fledgling blog. By far, especially initially, the messages would gently (or not so gently) prompt me to... Read More
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… on it all being greek to me
About a week ago, I got a text from number three son Jack. I should probably point out that number three son Jack is not technically a son in... Read More
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… on an old house and a sign maker named Tim
A few weeks ago, I got an e-mail from Tim Kearns. I’ve never met Tim, but it is no longer rare to do business with folks you’ve never met... Read More
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… we dingles love our ice cream (a text to prove it)
Shark Tank is a show where contestants pitch their business ideas to a team of investors. It has become a team sport of sorts for self-proclaimed perfect child, Gabe... Read More
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… on video games for seniors and an opportunity to date up
Today I got my first ‘senior’ solicitation. I was certain that, when this day came, my solicitation would come in the same form that it comes for many of... Read More
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… a text with mac about poo
Proof that I sometimes have to reach out of the mancave for support. This is a text with my daughter, Mac. I am green.
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… on a prison break and a very special bawston moment
What were you doing yesterday afternoon at approximately 3:47 p.m.? Huh. Sounds reasonable. You wanna know what I was doing? I was meeting the police at 170 High Street.... Read More
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… on marshal dejeweled, odd metaphors, and being a man
Oh, hey! Sorry for the mess, John’s been gone since Sunday and it’s been pretty hectic. I know I only have one kid at home right now, but it... Read More
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… on an empty nest, temporary ocd, and calvin and hobbes
I’ve written about being a mama bear, even a bristly one. Protecting cubs, advocating for cubs, and the occasional mauling of a particularly obstinate threat. Oh! And the tree... Read More
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… on why blaze could not have had plastic surgery in europe
Late last night I heard some commotion at the side door. Monty was up and woofing, so I came downstairs and, lo and behold, Blaze was back early from... Read More
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… a text with sam
Poor kids. When all the world offers up fodder for a blog post, they never know what’s coming. But, in my defense, sometimes I offer a warning.
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… a poem for my new friend. death becomes her.
The Undertaker’s Rose My new friend wears a great expression Not sadness, anger, nor depression You’d have to offer your concession That ‘happy’ is her first impression She cares... Read More