Semi-Daily Scribbles
Carving out a corner to post random crap.
recent posts
about
Category: Nostalgia
-
cherry pie and cups of damn fine coffee. misty old growth and logging trucks. a great northern tale full of secrets and one-eyed jacks. mayhem only needs one arm to pin you down. here's a town with enough finger poppin', light flickerin' evil to cause a palpitation of the blackest heart. here's a town where…
-
Waverly learned "the K word" early on in her career as a mischievous miniature schnauzer. Food was a huge deal, and Waverly's girth, for most of her 15 years, was a testament to her love (o.k…obsession) of kibble. She was surprisingly quick on her feet, though. Let her loose on a good sandy shoreline and…
-
tear off the corner—stacks, stands, and opening bands—delay starts at 8
-
The way opened for a purpose. A promise attached to the doorjamb gave us time to test our threshold. Would the sill bear our burden? Would the first step be our last? The door was open. A blue-grey cloud bank welcomed us. A key was a silly thing to replace. No lock existed that would…
-
Sandy, covered in mollusk mucous, smelling of the low tide. Treasure! Vital is the grit, the tang, the salt sea mist on taffy-pulled lips. Slap and slurp of the flip flop lost in the tide pool. Slime trails anoint mementos that come home in pockets and glove boxes. Display found objects in a…
-
The doilies were a connection for Imelda. She'd lost the ability to maintain ties when her girl moved away from home. Trivets and cosies, however, were Imelda's way to establish links which could be handed down from one generation to the next. She liked the notion of circles joining to form a strong bond. Imelda…
-
It is the smell of coffee that reminds me of fishhooks and big, fat night crawlers. My family had a large compost bin when I was a kid, which we called 'the worm box.' Eggshells, wilted lettuce, grass clippings, tealeaves, and coffee grounds. These were the items tossed and turned in the kitchen scrap heap…
-
Karla's grandmother served oyster stew every Christmas Eve in her harvest gold Limoges tureen. Karla loved the porcelain vessel, and hated its contents. Oysters were disgusting. The bivalves defiled the delicate china with its daisy and wheat motif. She always tried to decline the ladle of gray blobs floating in a buttery broth of milk,…
-
It's the inner child who jumps up and down, waving from across the Mighty Wide. The inner child is the one who holds up the flashlight and signals for the other Clubhousers to set down their briefcases and mortgages, and dive headfirst into the Chocolate Sea. Because, you see, I had a real tight grip…
-
The market had better light than the last one, and room for miles to stretch a pair of legs. Under the July sky, the barter and exchange that took place was fierce. It was like venturing into the wild without a musket or sharp ax. No way to protect yourself against a shady deal unless…
Semi-Daily Scribbles 