Unless I want to be an Edie, Big or Little, in an ersatz-colonial Grey Gardens,…
Widow’s Weeds 07: If It Weren’t For The Women
The attorney checked in to see if I had completed some assignments. I hadn’t and got to work. Did the paperwork to transfer the title of Garnet, the RAV4, into my name. Arranged for appraisal of the Barthiana: check. Communicated with Vanguard on various tasks: check....
Widow’s Weeds 06: Vegetables Help
I had been putting off serious thought about the menu for Dan’s memorial this coming Saturday, now exactly one week off. Putting together a video and assembling a play list had been a diversion. I worried, moreover, that if I didn’t get it started, I might have...
Persistent Persimmons
It seemed like a good idea, some fifteen years ago or so. Plant a couple of persimmon trees, be patient, harvest the fruit. So I waited–patiently–long long past the five-year mark by which time I should have been seeing flowers. Nothing. Not a blossom, not...
Widow’s Weeds 5: The Grandkids Are All Right
Well, technically they’re his and not mine, but they are all I have. Anyway, I’ve had the full experience from diapers through adolescence to adulthood. An Old Joke There is an old joke I told students to explain why young artists reject the styles and aesthetic...