People get ready There’s a train comin’ You don’t need no baggage You just get on board All you need is faith To hear... Read More
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… on a girls night out as one of the guys
I don’t do Girls Night Out. Never have. Never wanted to. It might be because I’m more of a Monty-Python quoting, secret-man-cave-loving, one of... Read More
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… on tasty words
Okay, so another cool thing along with the close up of sparkle water above. Half Kid Jack is taking a beginning drawing class because... Read More
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… on cherub torture 101
I’ll tell you what the hell that is. That is photographic proof of cherub torture. Every morning since Gabe-the-Self-Proclaimed-Perfect-Boy became an only child… Okay, technically... Read More
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… on man cave oscars and a near explosion
Mac and I were watching the red carpet procession at the Oscars last night (Ya, it says 11:34 a.m. above, but that was the... Read More
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… on glen who isn’t a lawyer and a life-altering list
Late yesterday morning I returned from Maine with The Shepherds and my olfactory senses were happy-fied by evidence that Glen-the-friend-and-painter had been true to... Read More
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… on being a v.i.p. at dingle diner and real mail
One really bizarre thing about living in a small, New England town is that every important decision is not made at Town Meeting or at the... Read More
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… on old yankee men as mouse props
Did you happen, by any chance, to read the title of this post as, ‘old yankee men as mouse poops’? No? Never mind. I... Read More
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… on an old dog waiting for his old-soul boy
Monty Dingle. Handsome Old Man. Handsome Old Yankee Man. Canine style. A few months ago, he was fading. Our 132 pound, 10 1/2-year-old Bernese Mountain... Read More
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… on keeping the home fire burning
The rag-tag militia would arrive in ones and twos from all over the country. Many left a day early to beat a winter storm... Read More
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… on the freakin’ medicine cabinet
This post was going to start out with me telling you about how super hero-ish I am. Which I am, for sure, but now... Read More
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… on dippity-do and me (and crissy)
Ah, Dippity-do. I don’t remember exactly how old I was, but I remember the bathroom closet of my house in the high-falootin’ town of... Read More