Observations from reviewing 11 years of sporadic personal blogging.

Observations from reviewing 11 years of sporadic personal blogging.
Here’s a coincidence. One year ago today I hiked down to Indian Garden in the Grand Canyon with my backpacker guitar and wrote a song called I’ve Done the Math.
My friend Moses asked me to find him an American wife. I (eventually) wrote a song about it.
“Look, Mommy! I made bunnies! Which one do you like best?”
“AAAAAAAGGGGGHHHH! You drew on the wall!”
Kurt Cobain committed suicide 20 years ago. Only five years before that Nirvana was an obscure band touring and playing in dive bars such as The Sun Club in Tempe.
I have a piece of metal in my nose. It started with a kiss.
Just thinking about plinking awakens some repressed power fantasies.
I was potty training. He made that step stool for me so I could stand in front of the toilet and clear the rim.
The third time David said, “once in a blue moon,” Coach Perkins reached the end of his indulgence for the two of us.
In Moab, traveling alone, and all grown up, I got to do what my dad didn’t let me do when I was nine.
I'll email you when I post something new — and that's all. Promise.