Summer 2017

Toby is no more. We surmise, deceased.

Chester has runaway. More than once. We divorced. By mutual agreement he was adopted by our neighbor down the street.

And Louie? Louie is picking up these bad vibes from our faces. Sad news to be lived for days.

So, my Cat Life stories have come to a close. Rather quickly, I must add. Short notice these rambunctious brothers gave. Those two scraggly-wags had no manners.

(There may be a few memorial stories. But then, may they rest in peace. And me too.)

More than ordinary

all this blue-sits indoors-meaning to hide-the brighter doors…lift your eyes-another soul resides-smiles, says hi.

Norm’s Doors 2.0

Ascend (a photo challenge)


I would love to know what squirrels think, when they see a person walk by, who suddenly stops when they hear their chatter above; stop, dig, reach in, snap, stare and stare and stare. Move along… For any length of time, no doubt, that squirrel is surveying an escape route. But you must question why the squirrel said anything to begin with, if he did not want company?

Not to worry, I did not ascend that tree.


Looking for the ordinary. Well, in this case, you may not be equally satisfied, seeking the ordinary. Go for the extraordinary!!

Never buy a bottle of wine solely based on the admiration of the label or purchase cheese because it is on sale. There is really no reason to give this simple advice other than to save you from being disappointed.

I passed up the kung fu girl riesling (cute but…) and at the same moment, yearned precious time to make fresh mozzarella. Yes, i took a class. Yes, i have made it twice. The first time, the cheese did not melt adequately on the pizza, so the second time i made mozzarella, i made caprese. The cheese was damn delicious combined with basil, garden-fresh tomatoes, ripe and juicy!!

There is no moral of the story, per se, other than you should eat life and pour out your love…


Remember, yesterday, I opened and read:

“I like the intimacy

with a patch of ground

the closeness and the drawing in,

the sibilance,

the swish the grass makes

with the scissored snap of stems,”

From her poem Cutting the grass with Scissors

well, i wrote in the margins of her book, much like my living, existing in the periphery, a few words…


two worn, bent at the wrist

we share -a small token of fervent hope

though nothing stays for long

my dandelion wishes stray

easterly, past our thoughts.

Staying on the island, even for the shortness of time enjoyed, was an awakening to how harried life can become. Oh! How I pine for the evergreen of Monhegan life.

Monhegan Island May 2016

Shake it off

While taking the b&w photo challenge I definitely started to notice more. I mean, how often we take for granted, the ordinary that automatically becomes a given.

In this instance of a day, I wonder if the carwash crew were scared as children, riding through a car wash? Throughout the whimsical, yes even as an adult, it is a quick detour from a town’s indifference, hang familiar puppets to ease the apprehension of going through this creature-bound water fantasia. What, with octopus arms and blue whales swimming overhead, it sure was a relief to see Cookie! (Who, today, has changed his diet, going crazy over carrots and other fruits and veggies.)

Great job to those making this world cleaner and safer!!


Life on Monhegan

just a taste … brought us, me, back to life.

The cold breath

of wintering hearts. Over.

I miss Monhegan Island. If I could fly, sewn feathers -tightly worn…

Instead, I sit

Dream -a


I did not meet Judith Pontura. Her book, stacked on a store shelf. The lady, behind the register, well, I asked her, had Judith signed any books? She had. A signature tucked away, book behind the counter. I bought it. I like to see the handwriting on the wall.

I opened the pages -again this morning. And an address, a P.O. Box with 04852 zip code. A name attached. Judith. Now Weber. Was this her? Had the cash-register lady given me her address? How, days pass. We forget the impact, never notice an island sprawled all over the desk. Mapped out-meticulously.

You remind me. Smell.

Monhegan May 2016


So many onions in the world these days. –Grocery store blues

Tears seen. Burn through my heart. Enough tears. I will put down the knife.

Finding solutions are easy when we never create problems to begin with. And when we harvest thoughts, root them out, be prepared to cry. The world keeps spinning and who can stop it, to get off? Put down the knife, I tell myself.

I put down the onion too.