Category: story time
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doorway
Story time! Both our boys went through a phase where they felt it was okay to pee without closing the bathroom door, I guess because it took way too much time. Asking them politely to close the door did no good. They would just “forget” each time they went. Ranting at them likewise did not Read.
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cocktail
Toward the end of this month I’m going to a clinic downtown to have this certain medical procedure that those of us over-fifties get to have because the doctor keeps bugging us about it every single goddamned time we go in for a hangnail or a bloody nose or whatever. “Have you had your colonoscopy Read.
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high
I dreamed I could fly. A woman I worked with told me how she did it. I ran into her in the break room and, while I was nuking my lunch in the microwave, I asked her what she did last weekend. She answered, casually, Oh, I was flying. I see, I answered her. Is Read.
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stroke
My parents used to ship me off in the summer to stay with my grandparents for a week. I must’ve been a handful back then, although I think they sent my brother off to our other set of grandparents at the same time. My guess is they probably wanted some time together in Vegas, or Read.
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measly 20 bucks
I bought a coffee pot from a guy on e-bay. Well, no, wait. If I say I’ve bought a coffee pot, you might assume I gave the guy money and he sent me a coffee pot. You might even assume I now possess a coffee pot. I do not and, as far as I know, Read.
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talk talk
Hock rots. Puggled nose. Eye gron gree. Up up ter. These are just a few samples of the first words used by our offspring. When the Seanster needed to blow his nose, for instance, he told his mother that his nose was puggled. It was a short jump from plugged so it was easy to Read.
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wakey-wakey
Bleary-eyed, I staggered into Java Cat, the coffee shop at the very top of Monona Avenue, at seven-thirty this morning. I had stumbled in my duties as the maker of the coffee and allowed our home supply of beans to run out so, for my penance this morning, I rolled out of bed into a Read.
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high
During a long drive to my mother’s house to pick up some furniture, Tim asked me something about how easy or hard it was to learn to fly an airplane. It’s not hard at all, I told him, speaking from only a little bit of experience. I used to fly, way back when I was Read.
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sepia
My great-grandmother Josephine, whom we called Feenie, is almost unknown to me except as the sweet silver-haired woman who welcomed us into her house with a great big smile whenever we stopped by on our frequent trips to Algoma to see my grandma Lil and grandpa Leo, who were on my father’s side of the Read.
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so long
I may have just driven to Waupaca County for the last time. Mom sold the ancestral manse and bought a condo in Arkansas where she hopes to live the rest of her days all cozy and snug and never again hear the words “snow-covered and slippery” used to describe roads during the winter. While she Read.
This Is Drivel 