Eating season during an eating year (COVID 15 anyone?) leaves many of us in a perpetual state of being half full. This is true of our bellies and our minds. No time to fully digest everything before the next thing to swallow gets shoved down our throats or dumped into our over-taxed heads.
There are times when breathing isn’t particularly easy. The world can take one’s breath away through the beauty of a vista, the thrill of an achievement, or the fear of what may come. Sometimes we can’t breathe for laughing. Those are the best times.
Syringe or jigger, vaccine or booze, if it was a shot, then 2020 was THE year. Personally, I prefer the jigger-kind and probably had a few too many tequila shots in college, but 2020 was very different.
Year-end can be strange and difficult. It is literally a dark time, even in the best of times. In the worst of times, we can feel hopeless and lost. But, in the darkest times, all is not lost, although we must sometimes dig deep into Pandora’s cherished box to find hope.
In Massachusetts, there is a mecca for the brewed barley connoisseur, with a name that resounds through the Tabby’s Place Lobby where one furry little Lord Hobo reigns(ish) supreme (depending on whether or not Olive has a say). Meanwhile, in sweet suite A, our Boom-Sauce brings the awesome sauce (please do not inform the author […]
Every since the dawn of language, humans have come up with quaint euphemisms for difficult subjects of conversation. I flatly refuse to provide any data or sources. Feel free to ignore or accept my word, and/or examine a few of your own. (Make it fun!)
Sitting with a wonderfully toasty heating pad wrapped around my right foot and Paul McCartney crooning about his love makes me feel all gooshy inside. Okay, not exactly gooshy, but nice. I like the song, despite the sappiness, and I really love the heating pad.
My right foot is cold despite my super adorable rainbow sock. It may have something to do with the ice pack (Much obliged, Loki, mistress of the misstep). My left foot is keeping metaphorical company. In short, now is worrying.
Because of the joys of social media (that assessment is equal parts sincere and sarcastic), by now, many of you have read about the new pet owner who informed his partner that the pets are not children, and he is not their father. After some time has elapsed, he arrives home from work, flings open […]
December 2nd, 2020 Dear Oscar, I can’t believe it’s been one year since I brought you home.