I have frequently thought that one day I would become a potter. I remember working with clay back in high school and loving it. That was 25 years ago. It’s funny how long some things take. This Christmas I received a potters wheel and kiln from Zuimei. I am literally …
Some days I have to remind myself that recovery is a process. And for the days I can’t, I just try to be like this bull. Fuck ’em. Fuck ’em all.
We got our first taste of a Newmarket Winter this morning. My slog in the early morning hours to catch the train. A brave dog owner forged a path ahead of me. Will get out the snowblower when I get home tonight.
I didn’t write as much in the past year. It was probably one of the toughest years I have ever faced and for awhile I wasn’t sure I could keep it together. Dealing with the results of a PSA the year before I had a biopsy on my prostate and …
This will be a rambling post. it doesn’t really have a message or purpose other than a way for me to get my thoughts down. This is what my soup-strainer ended up looking like. I had a successful Movember campaign. I managed to raise almost $700.00 which was a lot …
These photos are of my father and I at roughly the same age; I think he is 39 in this photo and I am now 41. Same moustache…LOOK AT IT!
Try to name these famous moustaches. And while you’re at it donate to mine! 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19.
So there is some hubub around the landing of a spacecraft on a comet. But the noise isn’t about how incredible amazing that feat is, or the potential to learn about the origins of the universe. No, the hue and cry is about some guy’s shirt, and it is so …
In Flanders fields the poppies blowBetween the crosses, row on row,That mark our place; and in the skyThe larks, still bravely singing, flyScarce heard amid the guns below. We are the Dead. Short days agoWe lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,Loved and were loved, and now we lieIn Flanders fields. …
