Someone wrote to tell me a solitary poker pic doth not a blog entry make. Well, phooey. How about twelve images from the holidays with captions?
These days, my mother rarely sits in front of the computer. I’ll log-on with iChat and she’ll be lying in bed, napping, watching TV or otherwise playing dead. Late Saturday morning I saw her bright face, up close, clicking away. “Something funny happened last night,” she said as soon as she realized I was watching […]
Susan called near dinner time to say she’d made it to Chicago. The pet-friendly hotel had a special cocktail hour for dogs and I guess Wex and Duffy needed to be carried back to their rooms.
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Susan left Sunday morning and called later that evening from The Green Roof Inn in Girard, Pennsylvania, which is an I-90 town mighty close to the Ohio Border. Tonight she hopes to make it to the pet-friendly Burnham in Chicago. And from there, weather permitting, home. I’m still marveling at this adaptable woman. Leaving the […]
Susan left Sunday morning and called later that evening from The Green Roof Inn in Girard, Pennsylvania, which is an I-90 town mighty close to the Ohio Border. Tonight she hopes to make it to the pet-friendly Burnham in Chicago. And from there, weather permitting, home. I’m still marveling at this adaptable woman. Leaving the […]
I’ve been waiting for La Rad to post a comment to the Hemingway story, but it doesn’t seem like that’s going to happen, so I’m moving on. Susan, Larry, Robert, Diane, Katherine, Matt, Emma As I was driving down Central St, I passed by neighbor, Joy. I waved and then I pulled into my driveway. […]
by Harold Bloom Frank O’Connor, who disliked Hemingway as intensely as he liked Chekhov, remarks in The Lonely Voice that Hemingway’s stories “illustrate a technique in search of a subject,†and therefore become “a minor art.†Let us see. Read the famous sketch called “Hills Like White Elephants,†five pages that are almost all […]
by Harold Bloom Frank O’Connor, who disliked Hemingway as intensely as he liked Chekhov, remarks in The Lonely Voice that Hemingway’s stories “illustrate a technique in search of a subject,†and therefore become “a minor art.†Let us see. Read the famous sketch called “Hills Like White Elephants,†five pages that are almost all […]
Ernest Hemingway The hills across the valley of the Ebro were long and white. On this side there was no shade and no trees and the station was between two lines of rails in the sun. Close against the side of the station there was the warm shadow of the building and a curtain, made […]
Matt sporting his new leather jacket and one of about fifty Italian silk ties his Aunt Joan sent him.
Following up on the last entry: From the University of Kentucky Department of Entomology The Japanese have used insects as human food since ancient times. The practice probably started in the Japanese Alps, where many aquatic insects are captured and eaten. Thousands of years ago, this region had a large human population but a shortage […]