Nineteen years. That’s how long it’s been since the invincible towers fell. This grief is two years older than Tabby’s Place itself.
There’s that little something lurking in that corner…not that one…yes, over there. Don’t be afraid, unless you want to be. Maybe you get a little shiver of a thrill from a teensy bit of fear. Not judging.
If we let it, strangeness can simplify us. Good news: we’ve been given a bumper crop of strangeness.
Life is complicated. Truth is complicated. Looking for simplicity in a sea of tangled webs (how d’ya like that mixed metaphor?) would be futile and most probably frustrating.
This being Labor Day and all, your normal blogular programming has been suspended. Fortunately, you’re getting something better.
You gave us wonder and splendor. You gave us the return of Bill and Ted (see above). You gave us the feast day of St. Augustine, and the annual pondering as to whether or not his friends called him “Gus.” You gave us an uncommonly high volume of marmalade cats.
More than ever before, we are hearing from the stridently this or vociferously that crowds. This is clearly right. That is clearly wrong. There can be no in between. This side or that side. If you’re not with me, you’re against me. Life is seldom so clear. Even when it is at its foundation, there […]
Late have I loved you, unrelenting autumn. But this year, even when it’s hard to fare forward, there’s a certain comfort in being able to fall into your arms.
The other day, my hubby and I returned my mom to my sister’s house, her primary residence. We’re a quaranteam, so we’re sharing. It works out nicely for everyone: varied household dynamics, changes in company, someone else to look at (or not), and different walls for my mom.
As proven by its occasional rhapsodizing about Alan Alda and One Direction, this blog is not generally pinned to the pulse of celebrity news. But this week’s star sorrow demands a response. The world has lost its beloved Black Panther, Chadwick Boseman.