I’m Highly Suspect Of Myself

I had lunch sometime back with an old friend I hadn’t seen in years. Both oddballs in high school, we’d dreamed of baking bread together when we graduated, raising sheep, and starting a commune in rural Vermont. She’d do the wool spinning and...

Resting On Your Laurels Is Lame

Walt and I are up in New Hampshire getting certified in Wilderness First Responder Medicine, WFR, for short. That way if one of us breaks a leg or develops a pneumothorax (note: this is me showing off) when we’re off the grid, we’ll have a reasonable...

That Tendency To Ignore Blatantly Unpleasant Facts

Like a junkie with a 14-gauge needle, my mother used books to blot out reality. Curled up in her chair, immersed in a novel, she ceased to be aware of anyone or anything around her. When she put her book down, exposed herself to the rage and tension that contaminated...

For The Birds

A blast from the past. Being an introvert, I need a lot of time to myself.  I spend most mornings happily surrounded by a pack of dogs and the quiet. I read, think, and write. Even with Walt present, I can be alone.  He has similar rhythms. We can lose entire days to...