Well, I have to eat crow. No, one didn’t fall from the sky onto my plate. Metaphorically speaking, I admit that the Craig’s list ad for a mate for my neighbor frog was premature: he already has one and I think a froglet. I’ve seen them both, but only junior – the size of a child’s fingertip – was hopping about
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WHAT WAS THAT? I jerk my head up from the pillow. It sounds like animals having a rumble on the metal roof. Pooch Snowball begins to bark. The clock shows 3:16. It’s pitch black outside. There is no moon or starlight. I turn on the outside lights and put on enough clothes to keep from being mosquitoed. Grabbing the flashlight
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It is called “gumbo”. No, it is not anything you can eat, at least not directly, not even with chicken and sausage. You grow things in it. Well……maybe. At a distance it looks black, closer it’s dark gray. [See the stuff at the top of this piece.] When it rains a lot, and you first-time-ever step into it – slurp
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Every working day for almost forty years I accounted for every hour of work. I had to repeat that sentence to myself to comprehend it. Time cards, whether paper or electronic, had to be filled out, and formally submitted. No card, no pay. Every single hour, sometimes down to the half-hour, had to be recorded. A short description of the
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Having unique powers of interspecies observation and communication I offer the following from and about my resident frog, Fuzzy. In addition to divining what he says he needs, I can attest to his being of sound fitness and mind. And being one of my best tenants, I can assure you that he is respectful and pays on time. So here
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Despite the title, this isn’t an ode to a Louisville Slugger. It’s about a bat, as in, a creature of the night that’ll get caught in your wife’s pricey coif if she’s not careful. (*) Sure enough, the bat that’s the subject of this piece had chutzpah. I opened the door just a crack, and in he flew. Immediately he
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