Saturday, January 31, 2015


But the dog doesn't only need that
soup-bone. He needs me more. So
he drops it at my feet and well,
see how he stares at me? Waiting
for the next story and what's next?
Because that is the beautiful bond
between us. 
When I really want to reach people, when I really want them to hear me, when I really want them to understand, I tell them a story.

There has to be a somebody and a somewhere and the somebody wants something BUT there's a problem (or two) and so then something happens and something is solved or something isn't and whether it takes two seconds or two minutes and even if the story isn't that good, that story is worth something. It is. Always. Even if only one person really heard it, really felt it ring like a little bell inside, the very story that was needed.

All storytellers, all writers know this. And all listeners do too. We see each other in stories, we make eye-contact despite whatever perceived-barriers. Maybe we could all understand each other much much more than we realize, but we just aren't listening to each other's stories as carefully as we need to.

It's child's play. But people grow up and forget. Sad.

The stories people tell have a way of taking care of them. If stories come to you, care for them. And learn to give them away where they are needed. Sometimes a person needs a story more than food to stay alive.” -from ‘Lessons for Grownups fromChildren’s Books’ 

Monday, January 26, 2015

Things that deserve the stink-eye:

What sociopath thought up a spray-on version of
something that should never, ever be available in
spray-on?! (Little brothers everywhere beware.)
Truly, this scares the shit out of me.

Monday, January 19, 2015

Tuesday, January 13, 2015

Just so you know, the answer is no.

Is Dad ever quite as good as Mom? Let's be honest. Dads don't usually get the same level of respect as Moms. That's why we own the remote control. It's compensation. Just sayin.

"Fatherhood is great because you can ruin someone from scratch." ~Jon Stewart

Friday, January 9, 2015

9 Lives?

Not long ago I actually said this to a small group of people while chatting: “Oh no I don’t dance. Anymore. I used to dance. Those days are over.” And then even before I lifted my chins and saw the sadness on their little earnest faces as they kindly suggested I really should try dancing again, I thought, WHAT AM I SAYING and WHO AM I and WHEN DID I TURN 86 and WHY AM I SUCH A DING-DONG?

Regardless of those sags and skin-tags, chins and bumps, and ups and upheavals, those wrinkles and worry, scars and stretch-marks, that one finger that won’t straighten anymore, that mortgage, that low tolerance for hip-hop and a hip that won’t much tolerate hop anymore, regardless of all that TV Kardashian-nincompoopness and the fact that it’s impossible to find a kid to mow your lawn or shovel the driveway anymore (I mean COME ON) or that falling-asleep sitting up issue, that awkward-irk-thing when someone is sitting in my chair, regardless of that annoying not-knowing why you came into that room brainfart routine, or whatever the really impressive sentence I was going to write here but I already forgot it, regardless of oh never mind here’s my point: can’t we all just DECIDE to reclaim this stray-cat of a thing called youth? Maybe youth has 9 lives? Think about it.

Why not have a “Reclamation of Youth Day.” Apparently, it’s a thing. I didn’t bother to research the actual date because well, irrelevant. Isn’t any day the perfect day to…

1. Find a pal and have a watergun-fight? Snowball fight? Thumb-war? Or maybe surprise your spouse with one of these?
2. Stop being angry they don’t make regular light-bulbs anymore.
3. Throw a pumpkin off a bridge?
4. Get yourself some selfie-sticks and an Instagram account.
5. Stop making the bed; it’s just going to get messed up again.
6. Fix your own computer/phone/TV/iPad/PVR/GPS/phone/coffee-maker/everything.
7. Mojitos. Jager-bombs?  
8. Ask your parents for money. Or better yet, your kids.
9. Daydream. Stay in bed all day? Lego? Harry Potter marathon?
10. Dance. 

To reclaim means to "regain possession of." Essentially, to "repossess." So get on your ten-or-much-less-now-speed-bike (of-course-ensure-it-has-that-special-protective-seat-and-goodness-sakes-wear-a-helmet-I’m-not-saying-lose-your-mind) and go reclaim your youth. (Re)take what is yours: life. 

Wednesday, January 7, 2015

Things one should never outgrow:

snowball fights, even inside snowball fights. Because fun.

Besides, it's a little too cold outside right now.

Saturday, January 3, 2015

Just so you know, the answer is no.

Is life about finding yourself?

A friend asked me to illustrate her storybook. My first thought? Um, are you sure you wouldn't rather ask a real artist? But instead I said, "Absolutely."

Maybe life is more about creating yourself.
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