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Sisyphus was an idiot.
Do you know what you were doing on Tuesday, July 11, 2023? Probably not. Unless there was a memorable event on that date – say a birthday or anniversary – you’re not likely to remember a random nearly-two-year-old weekday. (It is National 7-Eleven Day though, so you might have been sucking down a Slurpee if
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If ice making were an art, we’d call it cubeism.
When we bought our house, we inherited a pretty basic refrigerator. White, no frills, smallish. It’s fairly new (manufactured in 2020), which surprised me. When we were fridge shopping in Rapid City around that time, we pretty much had to buy stainless steel because that’s all we could find. (Side note: we splurged on a
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You gotta pay the cheese tax.
When we adopted our cats, we wanted to pay homage to their Wisconsin roots, so we named them Laverne and Shirley. It’s not like they walk around saying “Ope” all the time or cheer on the Packers, but they are Dairy State cats through and through. How do I know this? They love cheese. Our
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Cannabis bliss or yay, Toledo!
I was walking around the yard one day last week, taking photos of our newly blooming flora, when this plant caught my eye. No way, I thought to myself. Can’t be. But it sure looks like marijuana, doesn’t it? This is on a “wild” section of our property with bleeding hearts, ferns, and other random
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The gales of November came early.
Ally Bean recently wrote about plot-driven versus character-driven blogs. I may wear my heart on my sleeve but I rarely talk about it here (my courtship with Tara being the exception), so – like my novels – I’m all about the plot. Especially when I’ve gone somewhere fun. Like, for instance, the Malibu of the
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IKEA is my Kryptonite.
I have decided I’m going to start a new business making scratching posts. Laverne and Shirley love them. To death, it turns out, because before long, they end up looking like this: Previously, when they’ve gotten to this stage, I’ve thrown them away. But Tara thought we might be able to breathe new life into
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Mark My Words 