23 12, 2019

Six rules of puppymonster management


Grizzlebear, trying to blend in with the winter grass We've had Grizz for one week, and he's learned a lot. I've learned more, given that this is my first genuine puppy (the few dogs I've had were adult rescues, so I've never really dealt with puppymonsters before). I've got a few tips for anyone considering the acquisition of [...]

Six rules of puppymonster management2020-05-11T09:26:18-07:00
16 08, 2019

Sushi on the hoof: The tuna trip


OK, so this week's tuna fishing expedition wasn't nearly the Freddy Kreuger-style bloodbath I feared. In fact, it was kinda glorious. Turns out that the Wilderness and I are best buds if it improves the quality of my grub... and tuna "loins"* are about as improving as grub gets. The Resident Carpenter and I set out for Depoe [...]

Sushi on the hoof: The tuna trip2019-08-16T13:49:44-07:00
15 08, 2019

Tuna fish, tuna fish, sing a song of tuna fish


Tuna fish, tuna fish, sing a song of tuna fish Tuna fish, tuna fish, it's a favorite dish Everybody loves it so, from New York to Kokomo Tuna fish, tuna fish, it's a favorite dish (From my first piano lesson songbook) Tomorrow we will find ourselves a seasickeningly 45 miles out in a thousand-foot-deep ocean, looking for tuna. Somebody explain [...]

Tuna fish, tuna fish, sing a song of tuna fish2019-08-16T15:59:10-07:00
13 02, 2019

Cookie karma


Some of us are born just absolutely stuffed to the gills with winkarma. The rest of us get it doled out out by the God of Adventure, who is one stingy bastard. I used up my winkarma allocation decades ago, on a box of cookies.

Cookie karma2019-02-13T19:33:04-08:00
17 10, 2018

William the Conqueror-squirrel comes a-fostering


William the Conqueror-squirrel is now part of a household already enriched by Lola, Nikki, The Resident Carpenter, about a million saltwater denizens of the deep, assorted garden vegetables, and a number of wild critters living (only, I hope) in the backyard. This is the story of a squirrel orphan being rehabbed to the wilderness.

William the Conqueror-squirrel comes a-fostering2020-11-24T09:02:19-08:00
10 08, 2017

So how did you break your leg?


A nanosecond between me and death, but I never paused: I leapt from that window like a deranged chimpanezee, smartcard clenched between my teeth, reaching reaching reaching for the strut of the helicopter and climbing inside. "Arrrrgh!" yelled Mr. Big's frustrated henchman, hurling manhole covers after me. One struck my knee as I shoved the dead pilot aside and took [...]

So how did you break your leg?2020-10-06T11:14:52-07:00
29 07, 2017



"Dang it," said my sister* crossly, "I HATE flabby earlobes." I looked up in mild surprise. "Flabby what?" "Earlobes. You know how your earlobes get all flabby when you get older? Like empty, saggy bags that you could roll up and pin out of the way?" "Nope," I said, a tad indignantly, "I haven't noticed anything like that!" "May I [...]

17 05, 2017

Toothmarks in the fruitbowl


Found large, rodent-shaped toothmarks on apples in the fruit bowl on Mom's kitchen counter, with a trail of knocked-over orchids, the paper towel holder, a few glasses... I'd seen a squirrel at the kitchen windows the day before, leaping at the screens in a desperate bid to get in, and occasionally some odd scuffling noises on the roof. Absent any evidence of [...]

Toothmarks in the fruitbowl2020-05-05T12:56:23-07:00
1 05, 2017

Buy me, Mr. Shane


The Andrews Sisters didn't sing about hookers, and the songs from Hair really aren't about hair, shattering some of my longest-held perceptions. Backstory: I'm not your typical music lover; I pay no attention to the identity of the groups doing the music I love, and I don't usually listen much to the lyrics. I typically hear just enough of what's [...]

Buy me, Mr. Shane2020-05-05T12:56:33-07:00
20 10, 2016

Death by chicken


It's like a horror movie: You walk into your chicken coop and roosters attack, spurs and beaks shredding your jugular like carnitas, killing you deader than Kentucky Fried. Apparently this can happen if you have chickens. Kinda makes Alfred Hitchcock's The Birds look like a Sunday afternoon in the park with Tweetie. Mom's friend Marla, who comes every week [...]

Death by chicken2017-07-03T14:25:28-07:00
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