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 →

Even in the Dark

Snow shadows from the Hoffman Hills Tower yesterday March 24Even in the DarkTo be broken is no reasonto see all things as brokenSeldom seen, growing along the ocean floor, the white plumed anemone is a watery blossom. It is white lace opening under tons of black, opening as if bathed in the sun, while so... Continue Reading →

A wee bit of performance anxiety

I spent an undisclosed amount of time in front of the mirror the other morning, blowing on my finger. Like a fool. You see, in the days prior, I was pushed to the edge in a minor candle fiasco, and--I have to believe--the involuntary training session in the mirror that morning was a direct result... Continue Reading →

Wherein Pooh is Quoted

This is it for the cutout cookies. I have brought them with me to the keyboard in order to end the madness. I have eaten so many Christmas cookies in the past week that I, as is customary for late December, feel like I, too, may be made of nothing but dough and heat. What's... Continue Reading →

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