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the saturday shot … i’m expecting you
One of the first gifts my husband ever gave me was a silver pocket compass. While not at all useful, it is of great sentimental value. Having noted very early in our relationship my stellar capacity for getting lost and notwithstanding the fact that I was then a novice driving on the American (and wrong) side of the road my man…
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bats in the belfry
I feel bad about my fear of bats, especially now that I know I should be more afraid of a world without them. I found out this morning about White-Nose Syndrome which has reached epidemic proportions in the United States, threatening to leave many species extinct. My mother is to be blamed for my fear of bats. Probably my grandmother too.…
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planting pink
Lawn-mowers and leaf-blowers strike up their tune much earlier in the mornings now that summer has arrived in the desert southwest. By the time I left for work on Monday, I noticed, with the same kind of resignation triple-digit temperatures bring every year, that our flower beds were empty, the freshly mown grass less green, and, where just weeks before…
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“he not busy being born is busy dying”
“I read the news today, oh boy . . .” and prompted by Marie’s questions: who are cancer survivors and is it really necessary to celebrate survivorship on the first Sunday of June, I began yet another interminable trek through the unfiltered Internet. I found no answers for Marie. Just more questions. Admittedly, before today, I was completely unaware that…
