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A car covered in stickers is a person wanting to be known
We were driving north from Portland toward Tacoma today, when we passed a small import. Maybe a Toyota Yaris. Not sure, because the car was blanketed in stickers. At 75 mph, and hands…
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“Hobo Heart” publication is a little bit like pregnancy and birth
Not that I would know a bit what it’s like to be pregnant, or give birth. The analogy may make a little more sense if you understand that submitting a story for an…
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Responding to a response to a response to a letter sent to the world
I’m not much of a social media person. I like direct contact, which is why I will fire off an e-mail note to someone whose work or other actions has been particularly impressive.…
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A fog from a fire and the fog of arrogance and the fog of incompetence and …
I love fog. I’ve got fog, but I don’t love this fog. This fog is the devil spawn of fire. Smoke, shoved west from its forest home by flames a-billion, then back east…
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The finest line
When is it abuse, and when is it guided introduction to the mysteries of life? When is it “criminal,” and when is it a rite of passage? There’s a fine line between the…
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My wife’s nearly brilliant future career in futzing
My wife loves food. Cooking it, and eating it. She hates futzing, even though she’s pretty good at doing it. Expert cooks build temples to their talent — restaurants. What if expert futzers…