She was always the storyteller. She could make them up on command. Anytime. Anywhere. I remember one summer afternoon in 1968, we were waiting in the car while Mom was in the grocery store. It was warm and the windows were down, letting in a cool south Seattle breeze. “See that man right there?” she asked me. “The sweaty one with the blue shirt and the frown?” “Yeah,” I said. “He just came to the …
Too sick and tired for long-form blogging, so here are some angry shorts.
It’s been sixteen days since we were taken hostage. This is my secret note to the outside world. Hopefully someone will read it and spread the word of our plight. Though I have little hope for ourselves at this point, it may help others who find themselves in similar straits. Our captor is sleeping at the moment, and I have to be very careful as I’m typing not to make excessive noise, lest he wake …
A couple weeks from now we’ll have a new family member. We’re still missing Beorn a lot. Grieving. Personally, I’m a bit down and tired, with little interest in doing much of anything, though I’m starting to see a light at the end of the tunnel. Could be a freight train, I don’t know. The Missus and I often talked about what kind of dog we’d get when Beorn was gone. We both agreed it …
This is a very short story I wrote several years back. It seems appropriate to haul it out every time – in the words of a certain congress critter – “some people do something”.
We said goodbye to our beautiful Beorn on Columbus Day, 2023. The hole in our hearts is massive, but we remember Beorn with great fondness, and are pleased to have loved such a gentle giant.
We’ve been on a pseudo-vacation for a couple weeks with the dogs (more on that later). When we came home we took Beorn to the vet for some tests, as he’s been having trouble breathing. The tests showed that Beorn has a cancerous tumor in his lung(s). We’re meeting with the vet today to sort things out, including possible treatments. This is sad news. We love Beorn tremendously, as we do all our dogs, and …
“They want us to think it’s all down there,” he said with disdain in his voice. “What?” I asked. “The crust. The mantle. The molten core. All of it.” “Oh! You mean the Earth!” I said, catching up. “You’re talking about what’s down there below the surface and all?” “What they want us to believe is down there, you mean,” he corrected. He kept saying things like that. As though knowledge was some great secret …
After a relatively calm summer for this region, the wildfires finally struck last Friday. Dry late-summer conditions and high winds combined to form the perfect combination for wildly destructive firestorms. All that was required was a spark. Which – I assume – some people helpfully supplied. I “assume” because the fires are still being fought and the causes have not been determined. However, there were no obvious natural causes; no thunderstorms; no volcanic eruptions; no …
I’m not a musician, but this is how music woke me up to a big amazing world and made me a better visual artist.
