stories

Every once in awhile I'm reminded of the original purpose of a blog (WebLog, that is): To comment on interesting stuff you find on the Web. When three separate sources pointed to the same Tim O'Reilly post, I figured it was worth a read (and, anyway, I like the man and his company very much). Interesting stuff. To sum it [...]

"I've got a list of license plates," the tow truck guy growled, "of guys who've flipped me off or rolled down their windows and called me names. Someday, ma'am, one of those jerks is gonna need a tow, and I'll just let 'em sit there. " He finished hitching up Max, my usually trusty Maxima, and started winching it in. Max's electronics had reeled and died on a windy Portland hill after sundown, just past a busy, dark and dangerous curve. I was shivering by the time Max was finally up on his haunches and secured to the tow truck, while a long line of drivers honked and glared and inched past us. ...

Snowing again today and the forecast is for it to keep it up until Friday. White Christmas indeed. And I'm getting a kick out of documenting the progress of the snow levels on my back deck. Here's on day 1: And here's yesterday's: And here's this morning's...with a furry addition who's not in the least bit interested in the weather: [...]

Until you're behind the scenes, watching "Dad" become "Dr. Morgan," you can't really understand the value he brings to the world. And once you've had your first Mr. McCorkle, you'll try for the rest of your life to understand how your dad continued caring for terminally ill patients with such grace, even when he knew he couldn't "fix" them. ...

“AAAAIEEEUUUNT NO SUNSHY-YINE WHEYUUUN SHEEEEEEAAAAH’S GAAAAWWWWWWUUUUUUUN…” Startled, I glanced in my rear view mirror and saw the man in the car behind me, mouth open all the way back to his tonsils, belting out the Bill Withers classic. “THAT voice,“ my old singing teacher would have said, darkly, “shouldn’t be allowed to sing.”

This is Halloweeeeeek, my favorite time of the year. In glassland right now, the winter rains haven't quite settled in, the leaves shimmer with color and the winds rise just enough to blow the clouds away. It's also the week of the Pilchuck auction which, given the elections, current economic climate and all the scared rich people out there, may be in for much rougher weather than usual. So this year, my Halloween story combines auctions, ghosts and what happens when, as now, fear runs away with common sense.

Woke up this morning to the drumming sounds of rain on the skylight, lingered a moment in bed enjoying it, and in its usual convoluted meanderings, my brain dredged up my old neighbor Mike and his tin rooflet.