Family. Rachael’s making noise. It’s important. She’s experimenting with her vocal cords. She’s experimenting with her ability to manipulate other people–what’s the best way to get people’s attention? Fussing? Crying? Squealing with delight? Coughing? She alternates, cute with crying, only to discover that pretty much any sound will get my attention. She smiles at me […]

Editing. Something that pisses me off about my English education is that none of the teachers in my creative writing courses had any intention to teach me how to edit. Maybe I had bad teachers. Maybe the policy was “Workshop…and see magic may happen!” Maybe the instructors assumed that all we needed to know about

Stuff.. I don’t think I’m going to get the edit done tonight. Mr. Joe Woods was over; Mr. Joe Woods introduced us to Papa Murphy’s Chicaco-style ‘za. I nearly made the cashier cry. “Do you want some bread sticks?” she asked. After all, we were only getting a family-sized pie, and this is Joe and

Current reads. I’m in the middle of a reread of The Three Musketeers by Alexandre Dumas; I got a cool used copy at a local bookstore named Poor Richard’s. Wonderful place. Leatherbound, gold leaf, little ribbon bound into the…uh…binding. I just finished the third issue of “Black Gate.” I have yet to be impressed with

X-rays. We got a call on Thursday that Ray’s x-rays (for asymmetrical gluteal folds // lopsided butt crack) needed to be retaken. I got to take her in this time on Friday, after work. She cried when the doctor held her still; they asked me if I could possily be pregnant before they put the

The only reason I call this a journal instead of a blog is that the rhythm for blog is all off. The only reason I occiasionally write in smaller-case is that I started writing on a spare typewriter in high school, and I didn’t have any correction tape. Goal of the day: edit “Feather.” Finish

More religion: Religious faith seems to be a kind of affection. One of the more thought-provoking (read that with shades of “annoying”) people I ever talked to on the subject of religion was D— the Iowan. When I met him, he had been recently divorced: his wife had announced to him, out of the blue,

Posted some pictures of Rachael eating cereal.

I am…Stinky Rhinobiscuit! This is a site that will give you your designated new name according to the rules of Professor Poopypants, the villain of a children’s book, Captain Underpants and the Perilous Plot of Professor Poopypants. (I haven’t read the books yet.) I have to admit that I take a buttload of online tests.

The apartments directly above us have always contained an interesting collection of sounds. For example, there is the coincedental pisser. I swear he (or she) leaps up to take a leak every time he (or she) hears the click as I lower the ring. He (or she) is an irregular flusher. Next there is the