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“Hell, Stan, there are too many for a list?” Stan shook his head no, and whistled low. Greg oozed frustration. “Were you ever sure about anything?” “ I swear we’re here.” Stan jumped up and dunked on Greg. Steve dunked on both of them, then got serious. “We’ll never get a list like this right,”
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“I know what “Azure” means, why wouldn’t I know what happiness and tranquility mean? Just because you’re my Papa doesn’t mean you’re smart or anything.”
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“You better have the coffee ready before you get me out of bed.”
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The finest pie I’ve ever made screams Christmas.
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He loved nothing more than a roomful of people drinking and smoking and giving him his undivided devotion and attention.
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At least there would be no school.
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Never start a novel with the weather.
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“Don’t tell your mom I let you see a Ouija Board. They’re not toys,”
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The Last Sunday
The Last Sunday of Summer Today is the last Sunday of summer. I go back to school tomorrow. A whole new ride starts. I didn’t think about it until yesterday. God, I hate giving up summer. I became a writer this summer. Being a writer gives you permission to stay home and write. In fact, Read more
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Garden Success
All gardens need a boy. Read more
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Soccer Mom
Soccer Mom “When someone makes a goal, click this button and record the time here and the kid’s number here,” said Linda, the coach. She was pointing to two columns on an Excel Spreadsheet on one of those coach’s clipboards with the secret compartments. “They’re six, Linda, why do we need a spreadsheet?” I think Read more
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Summer Days
Summer Days People ask me how I spend my summers. I have few human relatives near me, so Norris, Madam, and Opal Pearl are the immediate family. The true answer is I spend my summers doing whatever I want. I met two and a half goals this summer, and I rarely set goals. The first Read more
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Collections
Collections Inventory Dishes Antique furniture My journals Cats 2 Dog 1 Twins Lotsa boys Almost two books Two published things I’m in a writer’s permutation of life at the moment. I collect books about writing and writing advice. I have writing friends and their books. I go to writing conferences and groups. I write blogs, Read more
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“Hell, Stan, there are too many for a list?” Stan shook his head no, and whistled low. Greg oozed frustration. “Were you ever sure about anything?” “ I swear we’re here.” Stan jumped up and dunked on Greg. Steve dunked on both of them, then got serious. “We’ll never get a list like this right,”
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“I know what “Azure” means, why wouldn’t I know what happiness and tranquility mean? Just because you’re my Papa doesn’t mean you’re smart or anything.”
-
“You better have the coffee ready before you get me out of bed.”
-
The finest pie I’ve ever made screams Christmas.
-
He loved nothing more than a roomful of people drinking and smoking and giving him his undivided devotion and attention.
-
At least there would be no school.
-
Never start a novel with the weather.
-
“Don’t tell your mom I let you see a Ouija Board. They’re not toys,”
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Kinship
The artists couldn’t have been more different. One used a palette knife to sculpt landscapes of heaven. He caught the flickering glint of stars and swirling clouds of gas and light with oily pigments. He imprisoned the light and wonder of Orion, caught his bow in mid-aim. His kin captured the magnificence of the heavens…
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Ceraunophilia (n) loving thunder and lightning and finding them intensely beautiful
“The lightning webbed and arced across the black sky. Thunder of a thousand sonic booms shook the whole house. It did it again and again and again. “I got it on my camera, look. It’s phenomenal. I bet it goes viral. “What do you think?” asked Sadie. “Look, here it comes again. James Weldon Johnson’s…
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Mommy’s Angel
I begged for a guitar for Christmas. I got down on my knees in supplication to Mom one Saturday morn when the snow was knee deep outside, I remember. That’s all she heard that year. I did every chore she gave me with glee, on the outside at least, three quarters my best instead of…
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Good King Wenceslas
“I love the way the full moon glistens on the snow when it’s deep and crisp and even like this, not a mark on it,” the good king said. It was St. Stephen’s Day, Boxing Day, the patron saint of stonemasons and bricklayers, the first martyr, stoned to death for blasphemy. He was also the…
Devonne Brown 