Words can bring me to a screeching halt. Yes, of course, spoken words — especially when I’m not expecting them, take issue with their purpose, or with the person who delivers them. But that isn’t what I’m talking about. At least not today. When I’m reading, a phrase molded in just the right way, or…
Looking for Light in All the Wrong Places
 A round of applause for at least getting closer to the raging All Warholled Up me in the header, please? Yes, I know you all still have a strange box at the top (even though it doesn’t show on my computer screen). It’s for advertising. That’s my next quest. To rid my blog of…
Slogged through Dog Days and alive to rant about it!
Sometime around Valentine’s Day earlier this year after visiting my sister in VA, I was headed toward a security checkpoint at Regan National in D.C. and was sidetracked by the lure of books lined up in a shop. Cruising through the independent Olsson’s Books and Records before my flight home pretty much guaranteed that my…
Genetically Meandering and Goal-Free, or Something
Funny how a subtle change in a suffix or hyphenation can significantly change the connotation of something. As in goal-less or goal-free. One clearly implies not only lack — but a negative one at that, and the other, a sort of liberating, non-shackled state of being. Sort of the difference between: the sad sack who…
If I Dream It, They Will Come: Bird by Bird
The whole spider dream thing has been on my mind since early yesterday when it woke me up. I hear others talking about their dreams, and it’s always interesting to wonder why we dream about what we dream. I almost always remember my dreams, so it seems like second nature thinking about them. Although they…
Dooce to the Rescue
I’m holding the baby. I’m holding the baby and there’s a rather large spider — a hairy tarantula ambling clumsily over the uneven terrain of the blanket I seem to be tangled in. Trying not to show my alarm with any recognizable display of emotion, I tell my mom to take the baby, my eyes…