An Experiment in Scotch

Many of the most promi­nent mem­o­ries from my child­hood revolve around the gar­dens of my grand­par­ents. Both sets, pater­nal and mater­nal, had gar­dens in their back­yards though in entirely dif­fer­ent set­tings. My mater­nal grand­par­ents lived on a farm in the excep­tion­ally bar­ren (bar­ren to the ill-informed any­way) plains of the Okla­homa pan­han­dle, at least for …

Feel­ing melan­choly with the north wind blow­ing… Wag­ner The Lou­vin Broth­ers Etta RIP, Etta. I wouldn’t have known you but for another and both are gone now.

The line between being a med­i­ta­tor and a medi­a­tor is a fine one. I am not a medi­a­tor other than in dis­putes of which cat threw up on the couch and and inter­nal dis­cus­sions con­cern­ing my jus­ti­fi­ca­tions for switch­ing from cof­fee to tea. See, this is why I’m a bad med­i­ta­tor, already this post is …

Have you ever won­dered what dogs dream about as they lay in their fluffy 40x50 beds bought at Trac­tor Sup­ply on sale for $20? I’ve always assumed my dog is dream­ing of chas­ing down some hap­less lit­tle mam­malian crea­ture in the back­yard. He prob­a­bly envi­sions him­self with teeth made of tita­nium and these Wolver­ine like …

This is one of those fas­ci­nat­ing posts (to me) where I navel gaze for approx­i­mately ninety min­utes on what the past year has done to me or for me or what my actions in said year have resulted or not resulted in. In short, I’m about to ram­ble on in a semi-coherent man­ner about what …