Letting Life Lead
Every morning for a month the rat-a-tat jazzy beat of the resident woodpecker thrumming my house rips me from dreams. I bolt a feline stairway to heaven to the side of the house. Empty feathers and a fat cat trouble me not.
...in which I share all the writing. And you will love it, dammit.
Try. Try again.
musings of a shellback, back on land
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There's comedic gold behind every painful experience. Here are mine.
playing by my own rules
We take the heat 'cause we gotta eat.