“ . . . that musty, small-town video shop set up in the dining room of an old house where someone was likely murdered.”
Sometimes a song starts as a chord that a guitar player can’t shake, or a phrase that a songwriter finds profound.
There were a lot of emotions in our house this morning.
You know, this quarantine has been really good for our family, and I would be perfectly content . . .
You have a place at the table.
Monopoly is a nice educational family game.
I think parents should be able to randomly register for gifts, say, every 5 years or so.
As you can see, I'm not a poet. I just liked these words, together. A NOTE ABOUT TIME It's October. It's December. It's May again? And I'm not sure of the year. Time and time and time. A nickel buys bread, but there is no medicine to stop … Continue reading A Note About Time
This chair belonged to my grandfather.
I don't know what else to say.
I had made it a stated, sworn, cross-my-heart promise to write and post more, worry less, etc, but . . . here we are.
It's not untrue, as this blog did ALMOST hit a record number of views yesterday! However, that number was 76, which is admittedly low compared to other sites and blogs.
I know this falls well short of being a profound statement, but this is a strange time of the year.
Modern alarm clocks and apps usually have a setting which allows them to become progressively louder or more obnoxious as the minutes tick away. I realized this morning that I have become this for my family, as my tone and language escalates . . .