Inflammation of the phalanges

We'll call it an incident. I suppose we could call it aging. Or stupidity. But we're going to go with an incident. It started with that damned cardboard. I've always known my fingers were bulls-eyes for arthritis. My childhood is pocked with memories of my mom's engorged knuckles and all the digital calisthenics employed to... Continue Reading →

Another round

The moles are working overtime these days. It is spring, the temporal realm of the mole, and they have--apparently--declared this the year to finally decimate the Ottinger Homestead once and for all. Sound Familiar? Well, sure it does... I went out yesterday, to stomp down the run that I shaved off the day before when... Continue Reading →

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