A Walk in the Woods


This is how I see the woods when I’m out walking in them. Lovely enough to be sure, But this….



….is how I remember the woods when I’m gone. And can’t wait to go back.



She felt a tweak in the small of her back while he was fumbling through the medicine cabinet. What was taking him so long?

“I’m waiting…” she said as lightly as she could.

“Can’t find the Vaseline”, he called his hands shaking.

Vaseline? She thought and sighed. “KY”, she said over her shoulder. “Middle shelf in the closet.”

“Right, Right”, he said.

He could see her from the bathroom door.

“What an ass…” he thought, his heart starting to race.

“What an ass…” she thought, her heart starting to sink.


You can’t judge a book by its…


Haley Nicole Permenter poolside topless

I give you this photo cadged from the digital pages of the Pittsburgh Flash Fiction Gazette. Looks like a fun kind of pool party I might have liked to have been invited to. Even in black and white. Given my wardrobe, that would not be a drawback.

Point is, the image title was as you see it in the caption. “Topless”. Well, OK. Technically true. But, given my anatomical preferences, had I counted on the title of the image alone I might have passed on this charming piece…of art. Or as lovely Haley seems to be saying, peace.




Best Kitchen Shelf EVER!

Best Kitchen Shelf EVER!

From Woodenspoonguy’s Tumblr feed

A few weeks ago a very dear, very vanilla, friend stayed at our house to feed the cats and hide from her house for awhile when we were at the shore.

You know how it is when someone stays at your place? When you get back, everything looks about the same-nothing is really amiss-but there are things that are a little off. I was sitting at the end of the couch-my spot-and reached for the lighter to my right on the bottom tier of a multi-level table.

“The spoon’s gone”, I said. “Did you move it?”

“No”, she answered putting down her book.

“I know I left it here…”

“Of course you would”, she said rolling her eyes. (I have a habit of leaving things around the place for visiting vanillas to find. My wife insists on a final run through of the house on the days the cleaning lady is scheduled. Another story for another time.)

“Wait a minute”, she said and went into the kitchen. I heard the drawers opening and closing until she came in slapping the spoon against her open palm.

“She must have put it away…”

And she had. Somehow fitting the long handled wooden spoon into the cutlery drawer where it had never been. Which of course leads me to wonder what she had to think finding a wooden spoon in the living room next to the couch.

The thought even made her smile-a little one, but a smile.