So if you beat a Monday hard enough for long enough, it’ll finally begrudgingly give up and go away, dragging most of your joy right along with it. But then Tuesday. Oh, Tuesday. Tuesday is that dreaded family member who shows up late at a holiday dinner, his bags packed in the car and his wheezing …
There’s just something about a bunny, apparently. As so many times before, as this morning, as I’m trying, vainly, to meditate, with enough focus issues without this to contend with, too: Our goofus half-hound Maggie goes absolutely batshit crazy over the sight of any of the little furry hoppers that call our part of the …
We have one of those flimsy kitty water fountains with an amazingly tough little motor in it and a big reservoir of waiting water — at least when recently filled, as ours had been only last night. The water dispenses on its own through some combination of gravity and other science-y concepts that make my head hurt. …
Jersey always left the side door open so I just walked on in. He was there on the couch, slumped back and ugly as he was every time you saw him, just butt ugly, with a long face full of bad teeth and hair that sprouted everywhere from him, like bristly weeds. He smelled like …
On the seventh day, God did, as is so often said, rest. But not without a little help. The Lord, dragging a bit from the drudgery of inflating all of eternity, stepped on a bunch of ripening grapes, and the godly fungus of ethereal toes did yield the yeast of ages. And there, suddenly, was …
Never risk listening to those aching songs you love on nights when you’re too tired to breathe without hearing your own breath admitting how little breath you have left ahead of you compared to how much exhaling has already come and gone. Nostalgia, yes. To wit: “How many a year has passed and gone / …
<Thanks, Joe, for the post title.> Late yesterday afternoon, I hoofed it the couple of miles through our eastern North Carolina version of bitter cold, gloved hands and big coat, double socks and damn me for failing to wear a hat, to the local post office, a pre-stamped packet in hand. In my back pocket, a …
False starts. Water under life’s bridge. So then, a little more dipping into my personal archaeology. My very soggy personal archaeology. I do dig the bit about the old guy and the wandering eye and the pine cones, though. Circa 2004, maybe. Medlum Come Home The faded red Pinto sputtered to a halt in the dry worn tracks …
It is indeed a very Black Friday. I have already this morning beaten a man to within an inch of his life with a broken tire from someone’s abandoned shopping cart after the fool came between me and this store’s last FurReal Friends Get Up and GoGo My Walkin’ Pup, though the wretched toy was unboxed, covered in …
So, you find things. And you know you should be doing other than looking, like seeking gainful employment or curing a major disease using only an assortment of stray household items. You know that, sure. But instead … instead you go bumbling around your haphazard past, turning over this stone or that, forgetting to watch for hibernating …