Located down the main drag, past the pet shop, the art gallery, the restaurants, is the village hardware store. Went down to peruse the shelves for mouse deterrents. Stood there for some time, staring at the various choices I have for killing the things, and as I feared, no options in my price range for deterring. Much as I expected. Well, I may have to … Continue reading Building A Better Mousetrap
so the doggy got a walkie and the dishes were a bore because the sun was shining and it could not be ignored then later in the evening I headed for the door to visit with that kitty some more As I was saying to Sof last night, it’s really not D3 I come to visit anymore, it’s really her. I mean, certainly, D3 … Continue reading Angel From East London
Returning to the beginning, to old posts from those first weeks of late October and into November of 2012 when I was working through that complicated grief Tim left in his wake and had just begun to blog. I come to them now only by way of the “go random” widget (hit the + sign below) I placed in the footer. [see end for how … Continue reading How I Find Magic, And You Can Too
When Mom first moved down to North Carolina with Dad in 1966, after they were married here in Canada at the Church just up the road from the Homestead, and she’s down there I don’t know how long before Dad’s family is getting her to say there is a moose in my whouse get him oot, as none of them had ever heard a Canadian … Continue reading There’s A Mouse In My House Get Him Out
for every river there may be a way to take to the other side dp :: STRATEGY Continue reading a bridge
ice fell from all the rooftops onto the sidewalk below, as the sun shone anew i ventured off to the forks of my river with you and the air was so mild that it made me smile as we stopped so you could sniff out the news What Is A Fib Poem? Pincus, who dubbed the poems Fibs for their basis in the Fibonacci sequence. … Continue reading whilst walking around with my dog
taught me how to skate to make friends to go with the flow along your banks i live again amen Continue reading that river of mine
Sitting here tonight drinking cold coffee from this morning with honey & lime in a tall glass with ice, just realized that like Jupiter’s two heads, I have two phone numbers, the old and the new. I am inclined to keep it, the new, decided actually. For the three people in the world that call/text me on any regular basis, it is worth it to … Continue reading Of The Hero And 3’s
Whenever I can I do try to go with the flow, find the positive, wherever it may lie in wait. I had wanted to switch, and tickety-boo, decided to change my pay-as-you-go phone to another carrier, figured why not? So it was decided, and bouncing out the door I went, feeling bright and clever. Ate breakfast (toast) – check. Left a little early (like wow) … Continue reading After A New Moon In Capricorn
My temper can be rather ballistic, when I’m not paying attention, when I’m just blasting off randomly in a rage, like after somehow or other losing my SIM card from my phone last night. You know, one of the micro, minuscule black micro SD’s, which was the catastrophe to begin the last hours of my night. Outside puffing, enjoying the brisk air (not), and see … Continue reading SIMS And Lice And That Distracting Device
Looking back to my stone age, when I was still married and we were going through those final days, standing in the middle of the dining room and this song by Joni Mitchel came on the radio and it had me mesmerized, captured within the words. Ever since I have tested myself against that song, it’s appeal, those manipulated memories give me a sort of … Continue reading And Clouds Got In The Way
First, it was Weinstein, wasn’t it? And then the next day there was someone else, and another, and Kevin Spacey, which was sort of different, and then someone else turns up the very next day, and then whoosh, #metoo is born in this storm and you can feel the energy. That righteous indignation fueling awards shows, the hope, the tired of you blawdy men pawing … Continue reading Why Margaret Atwood Is Not A Bad Feminist
That day the rain just kept coming down, and down, and for a brief few hours we had a reprieve from the long bitter cold grip we had been in, as the thermometer rose up to places it hadn’t been since fall, some danced barefoot on the sidewalks (ok, maybe just Jane), washing away all the dirty snow, and there in my mailbox I spied … Continue reading A Dreambook Of Spring Things
by PaulaB 