Don’t forget. Where you put the keys. To get the milk. To turn off the lights. Don’t forget. To say words that are true. And kind. And to say them often. Don’t forget. To focus. On what’s important. On who’s important. Don’t forget. That inside, somewhere, Could be the monster that will erase the past. Know today, that … Continue reading Don’t Forget.
Mr. Grouch has decided to pick up a few hobbies recently. One of these hobbies is maintaining a freshwater fish tank. This tank has been chock full of drama from the beginning – a replacement for any soap opera on TV, I would argue. I give you evidence in the following examples: PRETTY CHARACTERS: A Platinum Blond Angel, a beautiful Striped Angel, gem colored Blue and Sapphire Rams, striped Barbs, flame red … Continue reading Underwater Soap Opera
I thought I had already completed my obligatory Valentine’s Day post, when I wrote a love letter to my nasal irrigation system. But, then I thought there was no reason to disregard my OTHER lovey-dovey. No need to mention which or whom I love more. Mr. Grouch, you are a man apart, You wake me with your Good Morning fart. We met in the year Nineteen … Continue reading An Open Valentine to Mr. Grouch
My husband and I met on the soccer field – we were on the same intramural team at MSU in 1997. We talk about this long ago age in “pounds ago”, instead of “years ago” since we were once both young and spry. Sometimes we still play on coed teams together, or he plays on his own team and I do other things like yoga or jogging (running a half marathon … Continue reading I Stalk My Family When They Sleep. And Take Pictures.
DREAM: We are traveling and part of our caravan involves several blimps. From where we are we can see out in front of us through a large domed window. There is an accident – people are screaming and scared. There is a little boy about 8 years old by himself, crying. We can tell things are going from bad to worse. The blimp in front … Continue reading Dream #9: Little Boy and Burning Blimps
Dream: My husband is trying to kill a spider on the wall. The spider is peeking out from underneath a curled up piece of wallpaper, so just a leg or two pokes out. He hits the wall, paper towel in hand, but keeps missing it, as one or more of the “spider legs” keeps moving out of the way. As he continues trying, the leg … Continue reading Dream #3: A Spider, A Nautilus and Spontaneous Combustion
This blog is not about farts. If you are a fart-lover, I regret to inform you that this isn’t going to be chock full of anecdotes regarding gaseous emissions. However. There is one special fart that does belong here, as it ties in nicely with the topics of sleeping and waking. While we were dating, I do not recall my husband being much of a farter. Nothing note-worthy, … Continue reading A Special Fart. One I View Lovingly.