When you read a blog post do you hit Like? I do, almost every time. If I make it to the end, and I wasn’t offended—no sexism, or racism, or intolerance—I click the Like button. I see it as a marker, a tag. Like I’m a graffiti artist with a can of spray paint; I’ve … Continue reading Like?
We glide, side by side, matching stride and pace. Silent, except for breath, the quiet thump of rubber on asphalt, simultaneous, the steady rhythm accompanied by a pattern playing in my head. Sunny and warm, a gentle tailwind matches our pace, leaving the sensation that we’re standing still, inhaling the pollen-laden air we just breathed … Continue reading Running beyond the edge of suburbia
Roz was fat. I’d like to use a nicer word, a gentler phrase—plump, stout, chubby, big-boned—she was all of those, but seriously, she was fat. When we picked her out at the shelter, that was the draw. She sat relaxed, content, like Buddha, an imperceptible smile upon her lips, watching us fool around with the … Continue reading Roz
Like any living creature, it must be fed, it must be nurtured, loved. Neglected, it dies or stagnates or shrinks which might be worse than death. This blog, like King Tut, the bearded dragon living caged in my family room, basking beneath heat lamps, bright white and scorching during the day, warm red and comforting … Continue reading Blogs don’t eat crickets
My blogging friend Angela Lawson asked me to write a guest post for her blog, You are Awesome, Trying to Stay Awake in a Sleepy World: Parenting, Leadership, and Personal Development. My post is now up on her blog. For my own blog, I wanted to write about what her request means to me. In … Continue reading Where does friendship start?
Carved into a cliff twelve miles south of Moab, Utah sits Hole N’’The Rock. That’s how it’s spelled, with a quotation mark--or maybe a pair of apostrophes--used as a separator. I don't know why. It’s a home, or it was forty-five years ago. Fifties kitsch, the real stuff, not knock off replicas, decorates the place. … Continue reading Hole N’’The Rock
This is my fourth blog post about Stephen King. Similar to Donald Trump and his obsession with how many times his image has appeared on Time Magazine’s cover, Stephen King should be tweeting about the Other Stuff. He’s gotten more real estate than anyone but me. The other day I attended a large work meeting. … Continue reading On Writing Fiction
I lie awake, the minutes after turning out my light, brain active, anticipating the drawing shade of sleep. I took Lorazepam, a mild narcotic. It numbs my brain, silences the concerns that shake me awake in the early hours of tomorrow. Sleep feels unlikely. I wait for the medicine to dissolve. I wait for my … Continue reading The Cat
“That looks disgusting.” I was home for lunch. For the third time this winter, my work closed because of a snowstorm. Today’s was a pretty good one. By eleven o’clock we had four inches of fluffy snow. Looking out the window, a somewhat opaque veil added an inch or two each hour. Home for lunch … Continue reading Scramble
I'm failing miserably. Actually, I posted it twenty-four hours ago, so I guess I've already failed. Miserably. Like everyone else in the United States, part of my past four days included thoughts about a certain Catholic high school boy and a soon-to-be-a-senior-citizen Native American. I've thought about them while driving home from work (because NPR … Continue reading My Bad
It's a million pounds of marble. It sits like a massive boulder or a bomb-shelter two blocks from the Square, which is what we call the center of town, even though it’s a traffic circle. Past the comic book store and the candy shop and the place that sells expensive shoes from Sweden, the century … Continue reading Untitled #1
Gone are the days when I wake up an hour early to write. Long gone. This morning I was up at 5:15. That early alarm setting allows forty-five minutes of quiet self-care—coffee, news, cereal—before my kids grudgingly get out of bed. They require constant and sometimes not-so-gentle nudging towards door to start their school day. … Continue reading Censored by Decency
I recently changed jobs. I now work at a library—the finance manager: budgeting, analysis, accounting. My office, with it’s dark-stained wooden doors and frosted transom windows, is massive: 14’ x 14’ x 14’. It’s true, my office ceiling is fourteen feet high. Susan says I suffer from TMF—that’s too much furniture: three desks, five filing … Continue reading Shades of Gray
Blog readers of a certain age grew up with Seinfeld—NBC’s famous sitcom about nothing. That was the tagline: A show about nothing. Have you ever considered what that really means, “about nothing?” No big topics were ever raised. Each episode delved into the minutiae of the characters’ lives. We know about their personal grudges, their … Continue reading Dream Job
Sometimes, I fall flat on my face. That’s seven words, this isn’t a six word story, it’s an essay about my most recent post, Six Word Story . As bloggers, I suppose we all do this from time to time. We post something truly special (to ourselves), our A-work, and no one sees the brilliance. … Continue reading Six Word Story – Part II
There’s a guy who reads my blog every day. He reads my new posts over and over again. He rereads last month’s posts on a regular basis. And he reads through the old stuff, the stuff I wrote years ago, even when no one else does. That guy is me. I like what I write, … Continue reading Bloggers: What is your best post?
Last week, my boss, Kathy, mentioned Cats. You know, Cats, the musical. Do I call it a Broadway musical? I have no idea. It was on Broadway forever, a long time ago. I assume it’s done now, but maybe not, I don’t follow such things. Kathy has tickets for later this year. Not on Broadway, … Continue reading I feel… nothing?
I’m not used to driving this car; too much weight, too much muscle. Alternatively, I drive too fast, and then too slow. But I’m always in fast-mode when I blow past a cop. Always hitting the brakes a few seconds too late. How fast is too fast? Seventy-five? Eighty? My stomach drops and my breathing … Continue reading Jeff’s Travel Disk
Independence Day in America. We blow shit up. Ask any American about our Fourth of July traditions, and they’ll tell you ‘fireworks.’ Or maybe ‘beer and fireworks.’ It’s all very patriotic. Especially the beer, assuming that it’s American beer. I haven’t learned yet if Trump is applying tariffs to foreign beer, but American beer is … Continue reading The Fireworks Edition
Me, in his office: defensive, insecure. Him behind his desk: Disapproving, judgmental. “You’ll quit drinking,” he says. Not a suggestion, not a request. A declaration. An intervention. “I’m only here for my meds, my antidepressants.” Medication management, no prescription without a discussion. Power of suggestion? Voodoo? A good read of character? Yes, he was right. … Continue reading (Flash) Natural order of things