A Beer With Jimmy Buffett

In mid-January, “even the moon shines with only half a heart,” as Jane Kenyon put it (read her if you get the chance)

Roses. Glue. Freeway fumes.

We welcomed the new year, at the float depot under a dank overpass: Roses. Glue. Freeway fumes. Haven’t been this high since college.

Cotton in the Canyons

January is made for old Hobbits like me. There is rain in the hills, cotton in the canyons. It’s a good month for bulky sweaters…throaty old singers…snoring dogs.

Christmas Tree Spoons

My buddy turned the tree trunk into a series of wooden spoons that commemorate my grandbaby’s first Christmas.

Everything Is Sticky

Candles have melted into the woodwork. The place is still littered with half-bottles of Cab. Our living room looks like the set of a Noel Coward play.