Friday, July 19, 2019

Baby Dude

Bob picked up this little guy. We stopped him for a photo op, then set him back in the yard. It made my day.

Wednesday, July 17, 2019

The Business

Photo Credit Jeff Stroud

I'm taking an online writing class this summer with teachers Robin Rice and Emily McDowell at The writing prompts are pictures and we are free to write whatever we'd like to as inspired by the photo.

After three break-ins at the office in as many weeks, corporate decided to upgrade security. Too cheap to install a security system or hire a guard, management had a barbed wire fence added to the top of the chain-link winding its way around the desolate parking lot.

After all of the desktop computers were stolen, management got us cheap laptops we have to take home every night. When they stole the phone system, we were instructed to use our cells. Other than a small printer, a water dispenser, and a low-end Mr. Coffee machine, the office is just a bullpen of folding tables and chairs and a conference room with more of the same.

I can’t prove it was my ex-husband behind the thefts, but it’s more than likely. Kyle never wanted me to strike out on my own. Didn’t think I had what it takes. At this company, I am “Corporate.” I am “The Management.” This is my business, these are my people and I won’t be stopped by speed-bumps like mouth-breather, Kyle Wilcox.

This is dangerous, and the team works undercover of night. I never leave unless I’m on a case. I sleep in my car or on the conference room floor. I’m Gail From Corporate, and I know where all the bodies are buried. Like, literally where they are buried.

Tuesday, July 16, 2019

Happy Anniversary, Mr. Rosenberg

Remember that time 14 years ago when I eloped to Vegas with this guy? Super good decision, folks.

Monday, July 15, 2019


Photo Credit Jorge Barahona

I'm taking an online writing class this summer with teachers Robin Rice and Emily McDowell at The writing prompts are pictures and we are free to write whatever we'd like to as inspired by the photo.

Olivia Hart Jenkins had never had children of her own. She had helped the nuns take care of the younger orphans while she was growing up at the Sisters of Charity. On their sixth birthday, each child would inevitably be sent away to school in Albuquerque, taking a piece of her with them each time.

After she and Wade Hart had married, she dreamed of a big family. After a fruitless year, Olivia had consulted the doctor in Santa Rosa. He said to give it more time. Then Wade died and time stopped.

She found a home and a family of sorts with Gert on her ranch but that was a secret she guarded with her broken heart. Now Gert was gone too. Olivia had her loves and her losses and this was just how it worked out sometimes. Sometimes, dreams were just dreams.

The sun had already set when Juanita showed up on Olivia’s doorstep with the little girl and a small satchel.

“Miss Olivia, this is Dolores.” Dolores stood hidden behind Juanita’s skirt.

Olivia crouched down at eye level with Dolores and spoke to her in Spanish.

“Dolores, we will be good friends, I know it. Do you like dogs?” Little Dolores nodded. “Then you will be friends with Sancho too.”

“You are good to take her, Miss Olivia.”

Olivia patted her leg to signal the dog to come. Delores set her hand on his back and the two ran into the small house together.
Olivia set the kettle on for tea and warmed some milk with a teaspoon of honey in it for the child.

“I hope she will take me, Juanita.” Olivia glanced at Dolores sitting on the floor with Sancho. Perhaps her family could look like this.

Sunday, July 14, 2019

Smacksy Sunday Links

Liking things and people is good.

Channel surfing. 

Essential living.

Revealing reasons people visit the Friends apartment building.

Morning routines of five successful people.

A Dave Ramsey kick in the pants.

Ruth Reichl on MFK Fisher's lifetime of joyous eating.

And it's always a good time for meerkats.

Happy Sunday.

Smacksy Saturday Photo: Napping

I post a lot of photos of the dogs. This guy, does not like his picture taken. He will always turn away from the camera, so often I will snap a picture of him while he's sleeping. Not to force him into modeling, but because I love him and I love his sweet face. Maybe what they say about the camera taking away pieces of your soul is true. Maybe, maybe this is why his deep eyes, that have long avoided the camera, are so filled with soul.

Saturday, July 13, 2019

Happy Heart

My friend Emily gave me this sweet succulent heart. I love it and just thought you should see it. It makes for a happy front door.

Thursday, July 11, 2019


Photo Credit Eve Hannah

I'm taking an online writing class this summer with teachers Robin Rice and Emily McDowell at The writing prompts are pictures and we are free to write whatever we'd like to as inspired by the photo.
The silver rings felt too heavy on Kelly’s fingers. Dylan had given them to her on her last birthday saying, “These will look great on you.” A Celtic knot, two slim first knuckle rings, a chunky one with the word ‘”fide,” Latin for faith, engraved in an olde English font. The ring on her thumb felt especially ridiculous. She knew in her soul she wasn’t, and would never be, a thumb ring person. Kelly had no piercings, no tattoos, no edge. She was a simple girl with a pearl necklace and the wrong boyfriend.
This pound of silver, this finger wardrobe, was yet another clue, Dylan did not really see Kelly. He saw who he wanted her to be, and who he wanted her to be was his ex-girlfriend Wanda.

Wednesday, July 10, 2019

Hot, Hot, Hot

The AC is still out. Hopefully it will be fixed tomorrow. In the meantime, it's a windows open, popsicles and ice water kind of night.

If Only When You Sleep

Here's a new thing I'm excited about. Mr. Rosenberg and I are writing music together. He's the notes, the voice and all instruments, I'm lyrics. Listen to this first song, here If Only When You Sleep. a lovely soundscape with vocals.

If Only When You Sleep
I close my eyes
I only see you

I’m waking
I’m waking
I see your light
I only want you

My hands are cold
You live behind my eyes

I’m running
I’m running
The smoke of you
You are on my skin

I’m breathing
I’m seeing you
Just behind my eyes

Blow away
Feel the hours until I see you in my eyes