Patio Boat

May 2025 Mother, may I live? You may, my son. Mother, may I crawl? You may, my son. Mother, may I walk? You may, my son. Mother, may I run? ...

March. March. March. In March we began marching. Baby steps at first. Small circles with little signs. March. March. March. March. March. Ma...

You Like to Think You Could Do Better You like to think you would have done as well, Maybe even better. You give thanks that you will never ...

January 2025   It is January. It has always been January. It will always be January.   Now is the January of our discontent. M...

I have very few illusions about how the next four years are going to go. As a nation we are recklessly plunging towards disaster. I hope I...

Normally I put together a little year-end poem for my final out-of-office message at work. This year all I could muster up for 2024 was a ha...

 It's been a rough 12 months for me and Monique, full of disease and death and setbacks and sorrow. We are ground down. Tuesday's el...