About

At Least They're Committed

  • Retreat

    I’ve done it again. Inadvertently overwhelmed myself and subsequently retreated back under the rock from whence I came. It’s just too much right now and at least, I guess, I can recognize it and crawl away for awhile. I just don’t want to play anymore. Not right now, anyway. “They didn’t call,” is how I… Read more

  • Red Creek

    I’m traveling backward. Funny when you see where you’ve been rather than what’s up ahead its easier to appreciate than dread. The axle creaks and chassis shakes as sienna rocks and mud answer the question of what tossed me a moment before. Good one! Jarring. My back is pressed to the cab as the truck… Read more

  • Monday

    Sitting here listening to Ms. Charlotte yell “Hello!!! Hello!!! Hello!!! Mom, MOM I know you’re there!!!!” into the phone. Poor Charlotte. She’s five offices down from me and there’s never any question when she’s trying to deal with her parents. I’m quite lucky. My parents have taken good care of themselves and are in excellent… Read more

  • Rachel

    I have the coolest, most wickedest bruise on my left arm right above my wrist. This time Lily didn’t play so we couldn’t compare who had the better one, but I’m quite certain even if she had I would have won. I think I’ll get a photo of it and put it online because it’s… Read more

  • Scratch

    (April 9, 2008) I was downstairs making a PB&J for lunch when I heard a scratch on the door. At first I ignored it, I mean, the wind and blowing snow are enough to kick up debris that could easily knock against the door. Then I remembered Maxie. It’s been nearly a year since he disappeared… Read more

  • Dream a Little Dream . . .

    Stars shining bright above you; night breezes seem to whisper I love you . . . “He’s on the beach, Cathy. I left him there. Can’t you see him?” No. I can’t. There are only scraps, shards of wood, seashells and seascum and . . . what is it? I reach down and pick it… Read more