Caring for Turds, Caring for Therese.

Pioneers used buffalo turds for fire fuel, y’know. They had too, there’s long stretches of treeless-ness in the middle of America. But “buffalo chips” are Nature’s Duraflame logs. Grass digested, compacted, dried by sun with a spark friendly infusement of methane perhaps…the words of one pioneer diarist I’ve read said “You might think it unpleasant,…

We Are Teal

Barb and Mr. Barb (in two years, I’ve never heard his name) have been good neighbors. They made peace with our dogs and children and the constant brutal cacophony of “memories being made” and “vengeance being wrought on the weak” that comes constantly from our side of the fence. Mr. Barb doesn’t talk except the…

Pride, Porkers, Porches. Please.

It’s not a “bucket list.”  It’s my Rockstar Dreams. The fantasies I lived inside as a kid, clear into my twenties. I lived inside my head and though the rest of my self suffered for it, my health, my relationships, my strength of character, the interior of my skull was nourished and rich. I wanted…

Invictus

This isn’t a New Year’s Resolution. This is what is whispered alone, only to yourself, when you’ve washed up on a strange but solid shore, chest heaving, frightened, shocked, but still alive. You’re alive. You’re going to need to fight to stay that way.  Not vague, namby pamby promises. No. You are precisely aware of…

It Was Only a Coupla Flipper Babies

The first thing I said to the first person to ever interview me on national (Canadian) radio regarding my book was in response to “How are you this morning?” “Certainly not so nervous that I’m gonna vomit! HAA!” My husband Gus calls these my “flipper baby” moments, in reference to a unfortunate bit of miscommunication…