Rain wakes me at 7 a.m., the day before Christmas. I decide to read Joan Didion with coffee. She died yesterday. Later I will read Slouching Toward Bethlehem . This morning I choose her essay on Ernest Hemingway, Last Words. There will be fried potatoes and green chile for breakfast. Cowboy ate his kibble and …
Sunlight pierces the window precisely at 6:30 a.m. I feign sleep but sense brown eyes penetrating my deceit. I know the flutter of an eyelid, a shift of sore hips, one lateral move of a blanketed foot will mean my 50-pound blue heeler leaping onto the bed and draping his torso across mine. For Cowboy, …
I’ve become pretty clever about stocking up on staples during the coronavirus crisis, finding new space to stack boxes and cans. Now I just need to figure out where I stashed that extra bag of Cowboy’s kibble. I’m sure it’s someplace cute. My last “aha” was the guest bathroom, but apparently I have been cuter …
Happy birthday, Cowboy. March means you are three. The start of Daylight Savings Time seems like a good day to call yours. You are easy to associate with a lost hour of sleep. But I’m glad you are on my case. Your were a sick pup when you came. I’d say you’re plenty healthy now. …
Seeing the 2019 lunar eclipse with my own eyes really was the best experience — and worth the stiff neck — but here is what I was able to save with my battered Canon Powershot pocket camera and an iPhone. Some confusion (mine) the night before. Moonrise the night of (January 20). The real …
People I used to work with will get a kick out of this: I dreamed I lost my voice in the newsroom. Mid-sentence. Looking down a row of desks at younger reporters and editors before my retirement, questioning without being asked a crowd-count methodology at a political event. Despite some darting of the eyes, they …
When the days end like this … and the dogs look like this … we start hopin’ for more of this … Notes on photos: Big brown dog with water bottle is Sara, Cowboy’s good friend, owned by neighbors Lori and Mike; sun setting behind Cabezon with plenty of wildfire smoke trapped down low; yours …
The trouble with blogging is that many mornings I wake up and realize I would be better off keeping my mouth shut. My 1-year-old Appaloosa-bobcat-coyote dog Cowboy doesn’t have much use for my deep thoughts anyway. But as long as I am on the subject, I will say for the record that, while friends told …
dream ranch 