About

At Least They're Committed

Author: Tripping Raul

  • ACK!

    I dreamed last night that I misspelled ‘committed’ in a headline in a print publication. I was missing an ‘m.’ I woke up distressed before realizing it wasn’t real, only to come down to blog about it and find that I had numerous typos in the last post. Jesus! I…

  • ‘No doubt about it’

    Yup. That’s what the ultrasound gal told your parents and Aunt Maddie. “It’s a boy.” Sometimes it’s tough to tell, she said, because (as with your Uncle Darian) the babies cross their legs. But you, Desmond (or Dezmond, they’re still deciding), were showing off, just like your Uncle Dante did.…

  • Tripping Raul watching ‘Kill Bill’

    Beautiful Colorado night: Peach and purple clouds dancing as the sun skirts behind the Rocky Mountains. The hose spurts impure water onto my little shoots of wildflowers and yet I smile, cocking my head at this new birth, new growth. DSII steps out from inside, “Mom, a violent part is…

  • Ever wonder if your boss reads your blog?

    It’s social media 101: Even if you use another identity, you’re still you. Anything you say can and will be held against you. Therefore, even though I don’t care who knows what about me and I never write on here about specifics at home or details at work, I always…

  • ‘Who is God?’

    Smoothing out the bright yellow comforter over the bed, the thought struck me like a bullet to the head, “You’re missing the question,” it said. “Who is God?” I stood then, puzzled, although I well understood what it meant. For more than 15 years I’ve regaled and amused people with my…

  • Calaveras

    I believe my dreams were quite average last night — a nice switch from the past few nights in the calaveras room. I suppose I ought not be surprised by the vivid, haunting, twisted dreams since I have the room decorated with colorful skeletons and a framed feature on La Muerte. But, man,…

  • Memorial

    Sprung early after moving into my new, amazing office with a window, but planning to return to bring my plants and decide what art stays and what goes. Dear Grandchildren I Guess I Might Get to Know After All, just a quick positive update heading into a long Memorial Day weekend.…

  • Sand Pebbles

    He told me so. I was on the bus this morning and I was slightly weary from my last-minute-stayed-longer-than-I’d-planned happy hour yesterday afternoon to send Christine to California in style (see earlier posting on Tigger). But, I was upbeat this a.m. and I couldn’t help say to myself, like, hey, today’s going to be OK. But…

  • Mixed messaging

    I’m like this little killdeer, running around with my wings down, crying and limping to draw the threat away from the truth. At least as a metaphor. Me? My ruse is happy and joyful and misleading. I hand them assumptions because they swallow them without question — it makes more sense — and it keeps me…

  • Weeks that make you go ‘hmmmm,’ in another run-on sentence or two (or three)

    I got stuck in the elevator today while heading down to get a breath of fresh air (which even after I escaped the lift didn’t come to fruition because there were smokers everywhere outside the building) and as I tried to head back up I realized I didn’t have my key card for…