Happiness. It's relative.
I don’t know. It’s such a serious question. Unless the phrase ‘couldn’t live without’ is hyperbole. I could live without almost any object although I am very attached to our camper van because it is very small and simple and red. Plus, I love… Continue Reading “One Shiny Red Thing”
I painted my kitchen cabinets a dozen times. Unscrewed the doors and put them on sawhorses in the backyard and painted them an even more time-choked green than they’d been painted before. And then I lined up the hinges and screwed everything back together.… Continue Reading “Hand Me that Paintbrush”
I’m tired of casual swearing. Or more to the point, incessant swearing. More specifically, the ubiquitous use of the word f**k which I think is only impactful said under one’s breath at a particularly loathsome person or said loudly if one runs one’s snowblower… Continue Reading “Coarse Is as Coarse Does”
My former neighbor, a tall spare woman named Moreau, decided that every 4th of July, we should help her hang her enormous American flag between our two houses. This was possible because our houses, very old and very tall, were separated by a driveway… Continue Reading “Patriotism: Flags are Great but Showing Up is Better”
I was with a boyfriend once when he drove my VW down the block on the sidewalk. I was probably intoxicated and laughing so maybe I was abetting his lawbreaking since I assume it is against the law to operate an automobile on the… Continue Reading “So Far, So Law-Abiding”
Heavy heartedness. That’s what I needed a break from today. If you’re a person paying attention or, worse, a person (like me) paying too much attention, current events can create a constant sense of dread and foreboding. Remember the little sign from the Vietnam… Continue Reading “Reticulation is a Thing to Behold”
Winter’s wettest spit Windshield wipers frozen chop Thin hope revival _____________________ Photo by Aleksi Partanen on Unsplash
Our next-door neighbor’s pile of cardboard boxes reached epic proportions this morning. He opens his back door and tosses the empty boxes over his porch railing so that, over time, it becomes an intricate and very tall sculpture of not caring. We see his… Continue Reading “It’s Not One Thing, It’s Everything”
The trick about memory is how often difficult events from the past get stacked high like dirty plates waiting for their place in the dishwasher. But I will ignore the stacked plates for the time being and just focus on the question. My first… Continue Reading “Dirty Plates and Pristine Screens”
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