It was a cold night as New York prepared itself for the oncoming Nor’easter. My Seattle jacket was barely sufficient and I thank the excitement for warming me the rest of the way. Even the French were better prepared.
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I think of my Granny and Papa a lot. I whisper hello when I walk down the hall to my front door and sometimes smell the smell of their house: equal parts gasoline, mustiness and bacon grease.
Oh, it’s magical. I see you on your unicorn followed by a trial of sparkles and serenaded by oohs and ahhs. You make it look so easy because, well, it is easy, isn’t it. Your special thing.
I am ten and it is late October in Waterloo, Iowa and it is the last Halloween that I know I can officially go out and trick or treat. I am at that age—next year I will just be too old…
In kindergarten, I always wondered who Richard Stands was because we always gave a little shout out to him in the Pledge of Allegiance.
Sidebar: The Pledge of Allegiance was something we said after we had our breakfast of Tang and Space Sticks…
I’ve been away from the blog more than I would like because I am writing a novel.
Oh, wow—did you just force a smile and give me a little golf clap? I know, how original.
I have a spot reserved in my heart for the small voice that speaks at the exact moment the yammering crowd silences –when the noise parts and the small voice says the thing everyone is to afraid to say—and usually the last thing I want to admit.
lim•i•nal•i•ty: a psychological or metaphysical subjective state, conscious or unconscious, of being on the “threshold” of or between two different existential planes.
I harbor a deep and growing resentment toward the horoscope in the Sunday paper. I repeatedly tells me *today is a 7*. I cannot get past a 7. Every flipping Sunday—7.