I am in here.
From my bedroom window, the south face of the building opposite makes lovely abstract expressionist patterns against the pop-art blue-and-clouded sky. The big orange dog on one of the porches adds a touch of realism, and brings me back to the real world of ours. The fact remains that the morning is still quiet, and … Continue reading Sitting in Boulder, Colorado, on a Sunday morning
Only in Boulder can you come across a panhandler with a sign saying, “Let’s face it, it’s for the beer!”
I’m none too sure how a brand-new tube of toothpaste ended up entangled in our bedclothes, and frankly am none too eager to find out. Though I think it has something to do with my visit to the dentist yesterday, along with the dawning realization that I shall need at least 2 new crowns, and … Continue reading I pack in the morning. Toothpaste.
It’s the oak pollen. I swear it is. Breathing it all day has sapped my energy, and Buck’s. All we do is sleep. Or sit here wondering when we can take our next nap. I can’t think of anything to write, but my mind says write about not writing, about the nothingness. Which is good … Continue reading Oak pollen blues
white pebble 