Love on the Mild Side

“Look up,” he urged, “See the cardinal?”
“Where? Oh, there! I see her!”
“Not HER,”  he laughed. “His plumage gives away the gender.”

“That’s just wrong,” she sighed. “The guys have all the good stuff.”
“I agree,” he smiled. “After all, I have you.”

Song of the Lake 

Hear the frogs singing
Their song of the lake
Throaty and fervent
A call for a mate:

I’m strong and I’m virile
Froggy voices declare
I’ll take you by moonlight
My frog lady fair

Come croak to me, lover
I’ll capture your heart
On the still, calm waters
We’ll cavort in the dark.

Frog fortunes are made
In the conquests they make,
In the courtships brokered
On the shores of the lake.

My Heart Hurts

When our daughter was around four years of age she told me that sometimes it made her heart hurt when she didn’t get to see her great-grandparents. Of course, as her mom I was deeply moved by her expression of love. Her heart HURT.

Our family adopted this saying and we use it when something or some circumstance feels fundamentally wrong. My heart hurt when we moved away from family and friends in our native Texas to begin an adventure in North Dakota. It hurt, broke really, when my mother died, and again when we lost my dad.

All of my experiences with a hurt heart have been deeply personal, and I never use the phrase frivolously. So when I say the impending departure of President Barack Obama hurts my heart maybe you’ll understand how much I’ve admired him, his intelligence, his measured response to every challenge.

And when I tell you that the prospect of a Trump presidency hurts my heart, you’ll know that I don’t use those words carelessly. I believe we have unleashed a powerful force for evil and corruption on this country.

My heart hurts. For all that we’ve been. For all that we were. For all that we might have become.

Drinking Wine and Taking Stock

Drinking Wine and Taking Stock
By Leslie Noyes

It’s late on this cold Sunday night
My team is losing, and I’m taking stock
Who out there understands my plight
I drink wine and watch the clock.

Fake news, I’ve heard, is killing us
Our democracy barely surviving now
And while truth is worthy of a fuss
At present, veracity has bowed out.

Marches are planned, vigilance urged
I take heart in good people on my side
Senators on speed dial hopefully heard
The earnestness with which I cried.



Mistake me for a reasonable person. I’m too angry, too burned by the lies you’ve told carelessly.

How could you be so cavalier? The propaganda you’ve turned into incontrovertible 

Truths will be the end of us all. This is the way the world will cease, not with a bang, but a


Too Embarrassing for Words

I had an excruciatingingly embarrassing experience today. Just how embarrassing you ask? Well, let’s just say I am too mortified to relate it on this blog, and that’s saying a lot. 

Just as a caveat, be prepared for ANY eventuality when visiting a urologist’s office. In lieu of my embarrassing experience, here’s a picture of a shaggy dog. 

Peace, people!