Triple Shot.


When I was young, I used to pray to God asking him why he created mosquitos. I never got an answer I liked.


I stopped going to the dentist near me because she had L. Ron Hubbard books lining her bookshelves. She casually brought up Scientology with her metal toothpick in my mouth and said, “Anyone who is against Scientology is hiding something. Are you hiding anything?” 

I couldn’t respond because my mouth was wide open with her working in it. 

I haven’t been back to the dentist in years.


Sometimes cats walk on keyboards and type random keys with their little cat paws and people keep the random assortment of letters and symbols in their e-mails saying things like “Whiskers wrote that. Teehee!” My cat, however, when he walks on the keyboard, he changes all the settings on the computer somehow so the screen is zoomed in too far or an electronic voice announces all your mouse movements like a sportscaster. I can’t even figure out what to google to fix it. 

Sometimes I pick him up and put him on the keyboard and say “Undo what you did.”

He never listens, just stares at me and smugly sits down licking his paws.




Laura had a dream the other night that we owned a farm for orphans and puppies and the orphans and puppies would be delivered to us each day by the bus-full and we would give them all hugs and they’d understand that they were understood and then the orphans would play with the puppies, and the puppies would chase the orphans around the farm, hiding underneath hay bales and running across open fields. 

I asked her what happened after the puppies become full grown dogs and the orphans were ready for college.

She said she woke up before she got to that part.


I woke up from a dream recently upset because the fox in the dream was acting far more cat like than dog like and I got upset questioning the science of it all.


Sometimes, my dreams have the Ken Burns effect throughout. Those dreams are really boring. 


She made me lie down in the sand next to her in the rain. We held hands.

“Just be still,” she said. And the rain came down. “Spread your fingers wide, like this.”

The rain hit my face and ran down my cheeks. It soaked our clothes and our skin and our hair and everything got sandy.

I spread my fingers wide.

“Can we get up yet?” I said.

“Wait,” she said. “I’ll tell you when.”

Minutes passed and we listened to the rain come down with our eyes closed and the thunder far in the background.

“Do you know what causes thunder?” I asked.

“The lightening,” she said.

“Yes, but what about lightning?”

“It never strikes twice… Okay, let’s do this.”

We sprang up, turned, and saw our silhouettes carved dry on the sand.

We were here. We were together.

The rain quickly filled in the blank spaces.


I think I’m an adult now because I no longer buy whichever toilet paper is cheapest.


I think I’m an adult now because when the kitchen sink got clogged, I was no longer afraid that if I called my landlord, he would ground me and send me to my room.


I think I’m an adult now because kids now call me sir and mister, even if I’m doing something far less mature than they would even dare.


Last Evenings of Summer


It’s the open windows of summer that I’ve started to miss. I miss all the people in town sharing their indoor space with the world. On my walk home, I used to be able to hear a conversation every night outside an open kitchen window. It was a husband and wife, both just getting home. It was the same time every night, the three of us doing our societal clockwork. I’d hear only small fragments and always the same questions: the how-was-your-days or anything-happen-at-work-todays? The mundane exchanges coupled with the openness of the window always lead me into nostalgia, like they should have a pie cooling on the windowsill or something.

My neighbor plays his piano every night. He lives alone with his master piano and he isn’t very good. Still, as I sit in my home and he in his, I wouldn’t trade our evening concerts for anything.

Air-conditioning can sometimes feel like a godsend, but God, it’s so nice to feel like nothing’s changed.


There’s somethin’ brewin’.

Triple Shot.

Therein lies the rub. Therein lies the rub. Therein lies the rub.

Why has everyone agreed to this misquote? Aye, there’s the rub.


This will change your life:

Stove-top popcorn.


1/4 nutritional yeast

sea salt to taste

agave to taste

butter (optional)

Penzey’s Brady Street Cheese Sprinkle.

Trust me.


Last week, my kitchen sink clogged. Laura and I went to the pharmacy to get some Draino. While we were waiting at the checkout line, Laura said, “Oh! We should get one of these Seattle shot glasses for your sister!”

She put one on the counter. I paid.

Yep. We bought a bottle of draino and a shot glass. No questions asked.