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Site title: Murrmurrs
Fact is, my teeth look like they’ve been chased into a flesh corral by a border collie. All spooked and shifty and looking for a way out. They’re like a jumble of panicked sheep, only not as white.
Not anything like as white.
And they’ve been that way since my adult teeth came in. But it’s gotten worse. Measurably worse. Now, at night, they wake me up s...
When it comes to weather forecasts, I’m a minimalist. I just want the facts. I don’t think opinions are called for, and I don’t want dumb advice. I don’t need to hear that it’s going to be “another beautiful day” when we’ve had five thousand sunny days in a row and my garden looks like streusel.
Also, I can figure out what to wear if it’s going to be cold. All by myse...
I will admit I might, on occasion, visually appraise a man walking out of a room, but it’s been years since I wanted to know what’s in his pants. Until our house guest Tom showed up.
Tom is, among other attributes, a nice guy. And a useful guy. He knows all that stuff I don’t know, like how the electrons are moving around and how to get them to line up and pay attentio...
I dunno. I mean, I know we’re tearing folks out of their homes and disappearing them, and murdering people in broad daylight, and setting the planet on fire, and we hate Canada but think Putin is cool, etc. etc., but for some reason I found it particularly wrenching to watch that backhoe tearing into the East Wing of the White House. I guess because it was a cartoon poster of...
You like to think that years of experience should count for something. But the more years you’ve racked up since you were out of diapers, the more likely it is you’re going to be right back in them soon. That’s just an actuarial fact. That’s just math. You can’t fight math. So it shouldn’t be front-page news that I pooped my pants the other day. And not just a little.
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