A small lake, the shoreline covered in brush, in my view from the balcony. The water is glass-still this morning, but the air is filled with sound. The only call I recognize is a red-winged blackbird. The rest is a cacophony of chirps, honks and songs. Some of the birds I recognize: egrets, herons, cormorants. … Continue reading Vacation
Your weekend will be much better if you take the time to listen to one of my favorite pieces of music. http://youtu.be/MG2BbRV5438
Ideally weekends should be the perfect time to finally sleep in. But early mornings are wonderfully quiet. It's the only time I get the house to myself to sit quietly hand have a cup of coffee. Besides I probably slept enough last night. Last I recall from yesterday I was tucking in my daughter. Sometime … Continue reading Saturday mornings
Originally posted October 14, 2010. A little weekend repost. --PalMD When I lived in Northern California, I would often hear stories about people scouring the back country for psychedelic toads. In popular imagination, these toad wranglers would then gather around bonfires and with great ceremony and earnestness, they would lick hapless bufoids until they (the … Continue reading Should I lick this?
She lay in bed, her breathing erratic; she would breathe in deep and fast, then exhale slowly, as if she'd just hit her first cigarette of the day. In place of a cigarette was a tube, about a quarter of an inch wide. It was stained brown, and every few minutes a bucket attached to … Continue reading Death smells like vanilla
I'm pretty pissed off at my knee. My new, good habit of running is being interrupted by my left knee's complaints and it's not terribly fair. I tried a few strides last night and turned around, put on some shorts, and rode the stationary bike. I had a chance to do some skiing today, which … Continue reading Saturday, saturday
"I'm so sorry to hear about your father." "Thank you doctor. He really liked you," she said, smoothing her skirt. She always sat like a coiled spring. In a small exam room it's hard not to share temperaments, passing them like a bottle in a brown paper bag. Being near her made me guard my … Continue reading Postscript