Pat the Cat (later to evolve into Toot, Tu-Tu, Pootin) came to us a starving, homeless kitten, hungry enough to ravage a watermelon rind. Over the course of his life with us he turned into the swaggering, fully man-skirted Prince of Couches you see napping happily below. If Pat was a man, he’d have been the marrying kind, the steady-Freddy, solid, …
Working
In between walking in the rain, taking care of the chickens, and trying to dominate my fantasy leagues, I really am writing. Really. But for all you Franco fans, don’t get too excited. This novel revolves around a soldier in Italy immediately after WWII. No lesbians or detectives in sight. Yet. My books have a tendency to write me so …
Rain
The first rain of the year has come. It is a fierce, howling storm from the south. To celebrate the end of another fire season I take the dogs for a hike in the canyon. Sheltered from the worst of the wind they are happy and chase each other in tight round circles. While they’re distracting themselves I notice a …
Fall, Football, Seasons
I mark the year by happenings more than dates. The month we got our chickens, the morning I first noticed that the white summer sun had given way to the warm honey color of fall, the first pre-season football game, first cold snap, first regular season game, fall equinox, building the first fire of the year…I couldn’t tell you the …