the past is prologue


William moves on in the Berkeley Springs renovation, last weekend tearing down bedroom walls with the intent of putting up better ones. Soon.

There on the electrical box is a chunk of plaster from the demo — hidden under paint, wallpaper and paneling — that happens to match the bathrobe on the goose painting in the kitchen up there.

Coincidence? or just spooky?

photo by me, October 2015

surely we are in the end times

Black is white; white is black – you decide (see Dolezal).

Two murderous escapees are headed for Zihuatenejo North, or somewhere, without a trace, the homeland less secure, from within.

And yesterday, this actually happened:  In a local outpost of the House of Capitalism (Charles Schwab) – the speaker praised a “prominent official” for championing raising the Social Security cap from $118K to $250K: one Bernie Sanders, Socialist of Vermont.


photo of Sanders lifted from somewhere

go with “funny” — marital advice, should you need some

The little creature in the panda shirt here is my niece, Frances, and I could not be more delighted about that.

When Fei-Fei found out that friend Laura isn’t married (wearing no ring, as Mommy does), she suggested that she marry Pee-wee Herman, because he is funny.

Just when you needed something to feel good about.

Photo by Dwight Swanson, May 2015

if all you have is a hammer, all the world is a nail — adapted for coffee beans


In this case of “Oops — bought the beans, forgot the grinder,” the carpenter went for his hammer.  The coffee beans had a certain robust texture.


It reminded me of our first outing together to the house in Chincoteague, also, with no real provisions.  Rustling about the cupboards, he saw that a cornmeal muffin mix might be just fine with a can of Mandarin oranges, with the syrup, and it was.  I saw a creative and functional man.

Lucy Batton faces forward (with medical team)


Looking back, here she is in 1962. Looking forward, send heavy-duty, factory-guaranteed, extra-strength wishes for a healthy medical outcome next week and thereafter for Lucy Batton.

The surgery is more serious than a simple plaid defrocking.

Photo source unknown; Fargo, No. Dak.

just take them



Re: [freecycledc] OFFER: Drywall buckets with handles — Petworth

Taker: Great. Trying to work out when I could stop by. Where are you located?

Me: [My address]. How many do you want?

Taker: 5 and i could grab them tomorrow during the day if that works for you.

Me: That’s perfect.  I’ll put 6 or 7 on the porch in case you want more, or just take the ones you want.  I’m just curious what you will use them for.

Taker: I’m renovating my house and always have a need for these. Great storage, etc.

Me: Does your partner know you’re doing this?  My husband does renovation too, and I’m the one putting them on Freecycle.

Taker: Ha, yes, she barely tolerates it. Seems like you’re well on your way with all that joint compound.



mourning a lapse of feminism in the rising generation

shower graphic

Who doesn’t like a party? Thanks so much for inviting me… oh. It’s a “shower.”

It’s a theme shower, I see, pre-feminist wave of the mid-20th century? The envelope is addressed to “Mrs.” me and I bristle; I just don’t see that in my circles. When phone solicitors ask if I am “Mrs.” Something, I know they don’t mean me and politely say that they must have someone else in mind and goodbye. Though my male partner is in fact the relative of the “bride,” you have invited only me, so it’s a double-X chromosome thing, huh? How retro, like my home phone, I guess.

Your tastefully printed invitation – style points there! — refers to the wedding couple as the “soon-to-be Hisnames” give by all those bridesmaids. I wonder if you would really use the phrase “tying the knot” in its original sense, that of a trial marriage. Probably not.  You mean a clichéd binding of hand, foot, mind and money.

I usually bathe alone. So without regret, I will not be attending your party. You won’t miss me.