- April 22
- I am an OS reader, and an occasional OS writer.
MY RECENT POSTS
- My Space to Write
(lschmoopie's open call)
January 02, 2011 08:01PM
- Our Last Thanksgiving
November 18, 2010 06:43AM
- Louie in the Sky
October 18, 2010 01:15PM
July 21, 2010 11:53AM
- Villanelle for Donna
July 12, 2010 04:12PM
MY RECENT COMMENTS
- “All the signs of
March 28, 2014 12:10PM
March 28, 2014 12:08PM
- “Monstrous, those abusing
parents who momentarily
of their fears,
March 03, 2014 12:52PM
- “I am sorry. It takes
time, as you know, when you
and that part of
February 28, 2014 05:03PM
- “Beautiful, picture and
February 14, 2014 12:54PM
- MY LINKS
I write in my dining room, on whatever laptop I have at the time. Donna works there too; that's her laptop on the right. Between our laptops is a sea of clutter—clipboards, books, pens, reading glasses, and lately, ribbon and paper. I bought the blue vase/pencil cup at a student ceramic… Read full post »
1995 was the last year I celebrated Thanksgiving with my family. I didn’t know at the time that it would be my last Thanksgiving with them. As it turned out, it was memorable anyway.
Out of the corner of my eye, I was watching my 17-year-old niece pull tufts of short… Read full post »
Our canine companion of 13 years left us in July, headed to that grand dog park in the sky.
The little bed still holds his dog shape, a soft fold down the
He was so small yet
He took up so much space
Where do the small souls go?… Read full post »
I wasn’t used to saying no to my father. I was home from college for Christmas vacation and we were driving to my father’s shop in his pickup truck. We were on interstate 25, about ten minutes from the exit ramp when he asked me to have a party at the… Read full post »
I first knew you as my friend
I was young too – you, more sure.
So many days and nights since then.
We move apart, our lives extend,
We love and live – our paths mature.
I first knew you as my friend.
One day we meet and time suspends.… Read full post »
For the past 15 months, Donna and I have been spending Saturday afternoons with Min, Donna’s 89-year-old second cousin once-removed. We run some errands, stop by Bulk ‘N Bins and pick up some sugar free bridge mix, or go by Publix for a little bunch of flowers or… Read full post »
I head out with the laundry basket, intending to hang the sheets in the sun to dry. Just on the other side of the picket fence, I see Henry and Lillian sitting in lawn chairs in the middle of their back yard, facing me. They don’t speak until they see… Read full post »
I suddenly had a lump in my throat. I had taken the the dog to a nearby park and as we got in the car to leave, I noticed a young man walking across the parking lot. He was heading to Ski Rixen, a lake cabled for water sports, with his wakeboard… Read full post »
I’ve been homesick ever since we moved to Florida. Donna is an only child, and we moved here to look after her elderly mother. A short sojourn in the swamps, I thought. It won’t be long before I am able to go home to the beautiful Rocky Mountains.
After about five… Read full post »
At 17, you are like a wild horse—tall and undernourished, and quick to run. Primitive intelligence, excessively shy. Still too innocent for your age, but there is a reason for that. You keep your distance from boys. You are ashamed when they honk and whistle and holler at you, and you… Read full post »
“A PATTERN may be defined as a model of anything, so constructed that it may be used for forming a mold or impression in damp sand or other suitable material. This mold, when filled with molten metal or substances that solidify, forms a reproduction of the pattern and is known… Read full post »
The first time I met Donna she was in the hospital. She got out of bed to sit in a wheelchair and her hospital gown separated at the back. “Pardon my ass,” she said, over her shoulder. It was the end of October, or maybe early November, and she had been… Read full post »
It’s 7 a.m. December 31. I have the whole day off because I quit my job a couple days ago. I’m sitting on my couch, drinking coffee, looking at the Christmas tree, planning the take-down.
The phone rings. Dad?
“I tried to kill myself,” he says.… Read full post »
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- Barbara Weicksel
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