He Was A Man Worth Loving
Sometimes recognizing a love worth having takes time and distance.
When the sky decides to open up, it doesn’t hold anything back does it?
How many times this week have I heard the name Bernice, Bernice, BERNICE!
Black beans are rich in molybdenum and manganese.
Three James’ in a row this morning demanding to be fed. Geez.
New work falling in my lap like baby geese.
Artists saying hi hi hi. I want to collaborate all the time!
“Lunch this weekend at the Yellow Deli?”
Yes, please. I won’t even bother checking the menu in advance like old me.
I’m learning, and learning quickly.
Time to organize the unorganized. If the world showed up tomorrow I wouldn’t be ready. I appreciate the early stress test eddy.
My past is trying to come up from behind me, say hello. But this time it’s doing it nicely. Good, wholesome, fond memories.
The one person all these years I’ve still been able to say, “yes, he was a genuinely good man.” I may not have loved him like that, but he was a man worth loving like that.
I didn’t know it at the time — I had to find a way to where I now am.
They say there are no straight lines in nature. The closest thing you’ll get to organization is the golden ratio. You spin it enough and it becomes spaghetti and chaos.
I forgot to get Mary’s bagels.
Big black drips down a big white van.
I didn’t forget to make chicken, boiled in bacon.
Time to shower Millie again.
When the full moon comes you’ll find me in the labyrinth.
