Covid Couch Calls

I feel a fondness flowing over me, like the scent of chocolate chip cookies at Grandma’s, the kind one’s house, not the scary one. It’s a song by the Decemberists that transports me. Down memory lane to early Covid, to my rebellious non-adopting mask self, and to being locked up with a never-satisfied newborn and aContinue reading “Covid Couch Calls”

The Jaywalking Gigolo

The red hand at crosswalks is merely a suggestion. Walking several blocks to Climate Pledge Arena, I blow through them with the ease of a hardened hooker. As a Pacific Northwesterner, I know I should wait, but out East, they don’t, and since I’m a small-town girl that broke out, the rules have changed. AllContinue reading “The Jaywalking Gigolo”

Middle-Aged Lady Rap

I’m a midnight grinder, a shamrock finder, got a calendar, don’t need a reminder. I’m built Ford tough, edges rough, whenever I’m hot springin’ it’s in the buff. I down my steak rare, am a baller at foursquare, you better believe I oppose the electric chair. I’ve never had a gallstone, send messages via Iphone,Continue reading “Middle-Aged Lady Rap”