Y’know how the most mundane of things can drop you smack-dab in the middle of the most poignant of memories? No? Well, get to be my own sparkling young age, and trust me, you will. For now, let us begin: With a text received just the other day, from an insurance company. Not some business …
<Illustration by Tel Aviv artist Yuval Robichek> I don’t usually post two days in a row. Yesterday’s somber deconstruction of conflicting raw emotions demanded from today, however, some little upswell of positivity, at the very least. As did I, as well. This aims itself in that direction. I hope it comes close to hitting its …
Wounded-crow handoff to wildlife rehabber. I didn’t expect this to get to me like it did. Too often, I find myself uttering those very words. Yet, live and learn, that’s what they say we’re supposed to do. At least that’s what I’m led to understand it says in the manual on being human, if anyone …
You think it can’t happen to you. We all think that, out of hopeful denial, perhaps, that we ourselves will be spared the impossible horror of it. Then one day, you, like so many other poor souls before you, glance outside one disarmingly sunny afternoon, maybe while fixing yourself a cup of burnt coffee or …
I’ve never shared a link to one of my own pages of past newspaper writing here as its own blog post however, the response in just the couple of days since I originally added this almost-30-year-old story to this site, and then mentioned it on social media, has been kind of amazing. It really seemed …
A couple of days I ago I made a run to one of our county-dump transfer stations to drop off our recycling,. My trek out there was near the end of a series of errands, and I’d put off breakfast, so I grabbed it on the way. This particular dump site is kind of hidden; …
So on this day in 2007, a petite, ceaselessly silly, impossibly dear woman, who regards the worst puns as the best humor; who claims scatological rhymes as high poetry; who mocks the singer-songwriter greats of the 1960s-’70s as whiny and verbose; who thinks beer should be fizzy and yellow and, honestly, flavor-optional; who believes “coffee” …
So, to sum up: Thanksgiving, small family gathering, lovely, Luke home, talked to Taylor on the phone and heard Ellie coo, my mom settling into the noise and change of our busy house and smiling often, at the food, the love-insistent cats, the pie, oh the pie, happy, happy, whee! Because among those things I …
In the annals of furry FUs, this: Big Orange. Biggie. Bigs. Aka our beloved bastard Biggles, not allowed on our kitchen-island counter. Says me, anyway. Biggles himself refuses to acknowledge this, despite our long-standing ritual of him climbing up, sometimes in blatant view of disbelieving humans, to investigate whatever — untended wet cat food being …
When I die, and everything I have seen thus far in life suggests this will happen, despite my best efforts to pretend that black-gowned bony fella with the scythe who keeps inching closer in my rear-view mirror is just a very persistent and poorly dressed itinerant wheat farmer with a moonlighting Amway gig, and everything …