I accidentally punched her in the face: Tacoma Tales, Part 2
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I'm a big fan of water. And not just for drinking. I love to be near, on, and in it. Each year, a group of friends and I make a sojourn to the beach and do little else than sit on the sand until we crisp. All for the sake of that liquid salvation. Sometimes, it's enough to just hear those waves, you know. I wait all year for this one week (usually in May, because no one is on this particular beach in May) constantly envisioning the glare of the sun from the sugar sand, salivating for the long evenings, lounging in...
Why I Don't Live at the P.O.
In Small Town America, you've got your churches (lots of them; 28 Baptist churches exist in my hometown of 3,000 people, alone), and you've got your grocery stores, which, in a quick-fire pinch, also serve as make-shift churches. They just follow a different line of worship, a la gossip and such. I attend the grocery store with far more regularity, I'm ashamed to say. But, it's only because there's no set, organized amount of time one must spend in a grocery store. There's also no special music, or altar calls. Those can tend toward embarrassment, from time to time. The gist of this comparision...
It takes a Village and Xanax: Tacoma Tales, Part 1
Things I remember about Tacoma, and its people: 1) it's not Seattle; 2) I had to fly on a plane to get to it; 3) they fully believe in a Farmer's Market - despite the fact that, in my estimation, there were probably only two or three actual farmers at the market; 4) they want everywhere you turn to be something worth looking at; 5) so, that means there's a lot of random art and sculptures everywhere; 6) Sundays are just as dead there as here, and 7) did I mention I had to fly on a plane...
"Pickled sausage isn't on my Wake-Me-Up Stuff list."
Glory be. I'm back. I imagine I've been put right on the cusp of being completely forgotten. I could hardly blame you. I almost forgot myself. First, my laptop (which oddly rarely found its way to my lap) was struck by lightning. This is not , I'm sure you'll agree, all that conducive to a blogger's life. I was still able to access my poetry, scripts, musings, etc. but was unable to connect to the Internet. The techies were no help either, over the phone, as on their end of things it registered as "connected." Heck, even on my end, the blame thing was...
Oh, I'm still around…
I'm currently experiencing technical difficulties, but rest assured, I've got blogs coming... The Lord, ever, do I have blogs coming: all about flying (yuck!), why I think the Electric Department cares what I do, and of course, the Impending Arrival of Siciliana... At the moment, though, I have to go sing at a funeral. And figure out what's wrong with my computer. The idea of writing on a borrowed one seems too...
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