She walks in with slight bite of lip, betrayal of boldness carefully cultivated, cover blown on sight. Maybe it’s just the mead talking to me tonight, but my recent foray into the nonet sparked a renewed interest in poetry and form in my life. Thus, a trip into the shadorma. It … More Veneer
Crinkly laugh lines and a phone number; Sweet taste of maybes and what ifs Turned sour, an acid truth You live with another, Rendering you just One more passing Flirtation To Let Go. Dear Loyal Readers, I was right that a haiku might be not enough, but the result of meeting the … More Beware Plumbers Brandishing Compliments
There were two plumbers here today to lay some pipe. Long, sturdy pipe. It’s okay if you’re queuing the music. I know the tune because it’s in my head too. Baw Chicka Baw Baw. It’s extra loud given that these gents, unlike my previous encounter with Plumber Jim, are quite attractive and not douche nozzles. … More Master Plumbers and Maybe, Maybe, Maybes
The decision to let Bessie go is what brought boiler salesman Charles-Charlie-Call Me Paul into my life. Hey, I’ll call you Twinkle Toes McGee if it gets me a deal. Seriously though, Parents of the World, don’t name kids a Jr, a III, a IV, and then call them by their middle name, making it … More Single Girl Home Owning: Boiling Point (Part Two: The Winter of My Discontent and Disgruntlement)
When I moved into the Huh House in the Fall of 2013 I knew part of the package deal was a home heated by fossil fuel oil fueling baseboards with forced hot water. For those green minded urbanites blessed with geothermal units, Eskimos harnessing ice in igloos, and others not in the know, that means … More Single Girl Home Owning: Boiling Point (Part One: Saying Good-Bye to Bessie the Behemoth Boiler)
Plath said hers had a Meinkampf look, A man in black With love of the rack and the screw, But Daddy, Daddy, I don’t know what to make of you. I read her words at twenty, A dagger trailing red to the core And then put you away – Tried to scar the slice … More Father of Mine
Let’s take a trip down Mating Dance Memory Lane, shall we? I invite you to fall down the rabbit hole with me to that time I was the Bad Date, capital B, capital D, to my first ever Internet Date. It culminated in an incident involving a Tony Little Gazelle but we’ll get there in … More Dial-Up Date
I don’t normally respond when I get nominated for blogger “awards” because it seems like the equivalent of a chain letter passed around more than a bottle of hooch at a hoedown. I can say that because I’ve been to a hoedown or two. There’s usually a pig on a spit or in a smoking … More I Blame Jeff: A Blogging Chain Letter
His sweat smelled like Cheetos and he wore a kilt. Yes, my date on this balmy, humid, moisture dripping late July Sunday afternoon fancies himself a Scottish Viking plunked down in the middle of central Pennsylvania. Lest anyone think I deem every date over 6’ as Viking in stature because of my previously recounted … More No More Vikings
Right now a multitude of Jell-O shots are solidifying and champagne is chilling across the globe. My New Year’s Eve preparations are all done. This is it folks: My entertainment for the evening is all sorted: But Don’t Cry for Me Argentina. I have a great date for the evening. He’s wise and … More Pajamas and Shrimp: My 2016 Single Girl NYE
Sleeping on the Diagonal 