We’re sitting quietly, Cecil and I, our breakfast long since finished. The usual, give or take, leaning more standard fare today, I’d say. Eggs, bacon, the home fries, toast, whole wheat in a vain nod to our health. 
No exotic venturing this morning, bowls and such. No sides of guacamole. Continue reading
There are more than a few of you reading these words, I’m sure, of the few of you here reading these words, thinking, What the fuck is this site even? Old men ranting old men things. Old people reminiscing. Erratic politic opining. Continue reading
We’re sitting, cooped up inside Elsie’s newish apartment, part of a larger assisted-living complex she moved to after parting with the old family home and cottage over the course of the last year or so.
“Not the best time to be unloading real estate, Barnaby,” she told me throughout the process, twisting and difficult at various points, “but absolutely necessary. For my state of mind.” Continue reading