The holiday guests have moved on–Ballet Lady (a.k.a. my mother-in-law) has gone back to Florida, and my sister and her daughter have left to visit other relatives.
My morning began at 11:30, and now, an hour later, I’m drinking coffee and watching the dogs destroy Santa. It’s fine by me. Santa gave himself in effigy to the dogs, and they’re only doing what comes naturally to them.
poetry... mostly...
writer, editor, educator
"This world is but a canvas to our imagination"
Writing Lostness
A selfish poet
Stevenson's French culture blog. No shit.
author + reader
. . . a meeting place where poetry chapbooks are celebrated and reviewed
Poetry, nature, books, & speculative philosophical musings
pages from an unbound book
breathing through our bones
fixing blind spots w/ cards
"Tarot helps you meet whatever comes in the best possible way."
Thoughts on writing and reading
the view from my precarious perch
Bespoke.Like you.
Snapshots of the mindful life.
Balanced On the Edge 
Clearly, the party is over. My dog has gone berserk with a series of newly-acquired toys. The animals are still feeling the weird holiday vibe, but have almost settled back into their eat-play-sleep-eat-play-sleep routine.
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My videos of the dogs posted from my iPhone don’t show up on this blog! Drat. I’m thinking of ditching the self-hosted stuff and switching to old-fashioned, free WordPress.
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