Author’s Note: I borrowed the first line of this poem from the Robert Frost poem mentioned in What Rhymes With Stanza’s Weekend Coffee Share post.

He is all pine and I am apple orchard.
He is all rocks and I am a flower patch.

I wonder why we get along like we do.

He is storm clouds and I am rainbows.
He is restless nights and I am happy daydreams.

Why do we get along like we do?

He is miasma and I am clear air.
He is snarling dog and I am happy cat.

Is there a reason why we get along like we do?

Is it because we are such opposites?
We can’t help but be there for each other.

As night needs day and as clouds need sky.
We can’t help but be together.

And maybe that is why.
We get along like we do.


Letters To Euturpe #61: A Fog Is A-Comin’

There’s a fog a-comin’.
I can feel it in the wind.
Be sure to wear your hat
When you go outside.

The fog is a-chillin’.
I can feel it in the wind.
Hand me your hat.
And stay inside.

For it is warm
in here.
And it is
safe inside.

The fog is a-callin’.
I can hear it in the wind.
I will wear your hat
And go outside.

But you.
Must stay here.
Here it is warmth.
Here it is delight.

Don’t go outside.



Why’s The Toaster In The Bathroom?

Fred opened the front door. “Hey! I’m home.”

Little Juniper Sally ran to him. “Yay! Daddy! You’re home! You’re home! The toaster’s tryin’ to kill itself.”

Fred’s face fell. “The what?”

“Toaster. It’s in the bathroom. I’m gonna go play with Rosie and Jill. Bye!” She ran outside shouting, “Yay! My daddy’s home!”

The toaster’s trying to kill itself? Wha?

Fred walked into the bathroom, almost afraid of what he’d see.

The toaster sat on the edge of the bathtub.

“Why is the toaster in the bathroom?” Must be one of Juniper Sally’s weird make believe games. I’ll understand her one of these days.



The toaster shifted uneasily. “I SAID, DON’T TRY TO STOP ME.”

“Okay. So. Is this happening for real or is this a whole getting in touch with my more imaginative, playful side? Because if it is that whole touchy feely thing, nuh-uh. This is way too dark. You’ll have to come up with a better scenario.”

He frowned. “Wait. What is your plan, exactly?”

The toaster puffed its chest (?) out. “I am going to jump into this body of water and electrocute myself.”

“Electrocute yourself. No. No, I don’t think it works that way. That would be like lightning electrocuting itself. Can’t happen. Wait. What?”

Fred walked over to the bathtub. “How’d you fill it up with water?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Well, yeah. Actually, I would.”

“Well, I’m not going to tell you. State secret. So there.”

“Let me guess. You used your cord?”

The toaster went silent.

“How were you going to electrocute yourself anyway? You aren’t even plugged in.”

The toaster’s heating coils turned red. “I thought it would be an inevitable result. I’m a toaster. It’s water. So, I forgot about the plugged in detail. So, sue me.”

“No, thanks. Talking to a toaster in my bathroom is surreal enough. Taking you to court…” He shook his head. “I’d just feel like an idiot.”

“It’s about time you feel like what you really are.”

“Huh? What would that be?”

“An idiot, of course. Dumping me, a perfectly functional toaster, for a chintzy watermelon-shaped toaster.”

“Whaaa? That’s what this whole drama is about? Come on! How could I resist a toaster that looked like a watermelon? It even smelled like a watermelon. It was awesome!”

“Unlike me. The unloved castoff. The reject. The pitiful has-been.”

“Oh, really? Don’t you think you’re waxing a little melodramatic.”

“I can’t help it. Without my work toasting your bread, my drama classes are all I have going for me.”

“Wha? You take drama classes?”

“Every Thursday night at 9:00 on the nose. I think I’m getting better at it.” The toaster’s chrome sides gleamed. “After all, I had you convinced. You, a man with very little imagination.” The toaster hopped onto the floor. “Hey! Mabel! Did you record all that?”

The camcorder shifted on the counter. “Every breathtaking moment.” It jumped down onto an unopened package of toilet paper, to the floor, and shuffled over to the toaster. “I was very impressed with your delivery.”


They made their way out the bathroom door. “Oh, yes. I felt your grief and despair and…” Their voices petered out as they shuffled out of his range of hearing.

Fred sat back on his feet and scratched his head. “What just happened?”

Writing About….Nerves

All the way back in 2012, I was having bad intestinal problems. After a whole lot of testing and generalized feelings of horribleness, I had a CT scan done early 2013 which found the reason for my problems: neuroendocrine tumors in my intestine and on my liver.

I honestly wasn’t too freaked out when the doctors gave me the diagnosis. I’d already added up my symptoms and they equaled cancer in my head. I was like “Okay. Now, what do we do?”

They did surgery. I never had to do chemotherapy or radiation, because this kind of cancer just doesn’t respond to it. I did have to undergo like months of Octreotide shots and follow-up CT scans to keep an eye on how things were looking.

My CT scans came back with lovely, good, nothing new results.

Until my most recent one last month. They found a few new spots on my liver. I had a MRI done to better assess the situation. There were about four spots that they were able to measure – the biggest being 1.1cm x 0.9 cm – and a whole fleet of much smaller ones.

Anyway, I’m going in to see my surgeon tomorrow to see what the Battle Plan is. I’m kind of nervous, but I’m focusing on the positive. There weren’t any spots in my lungs, heart, etc., which is a big positive. I spoke to my oncologist and he said that there are other ways that they could take care of it. It may not necessarily require surgery – another positive thought.

So, I get off of work tomorrow at 1:00 and I head straight on over to my appointment. And then. We’ll see what happens next.  🙂

Letters To Euturpe #60 – Toast

My ideal breakfast would be toast.


Doesn’t matter the kind of bread.
Doesn’t matter the kind of jam.
Or naked bare.


I can see it heating up in the toaster.
But it can’t be too light.
And it should never be too dark.
It must have the right balance
so the butter melts smooth and sops into the bread.

Sometimes I feel bad for the bread
as it heats on both sides at the same time.
It seems like torture to be treated that way.

But ahhhh.






Password Reset

Resetting my password should be easy. I have at least five or six really good ones in my head that revolve around Harry Potter and Voldemort.


Notice: I said should be easy. Not IS easy. Should be easy.

So, yeah. Today my computer whined at me to change my password or die. I didn’t want to die. Maybe some other day, but not today. I type in HpHeartsVoldie. Hit enter.

Password is unacceptable. Try again.

I don’t see what’s so unacceptable about it. But whatever. I type in VoldyHeartsHarry.

Hit enter.

Password has been used recently. Try again.

Okay. That’s a legit complaint.


Password has too many letters. Try again.


Unacceptable punctuation usage. Try again.


Password is nonsensical. Try again.

Oh, now it’s just getting personal.


Password is weak and pathetic. Try again.


Password consists of illicit shipping. Try again.


Password consists of illicit shipping. Try again.


Password is suspicious for illicit shipping. Try again.


Password is suspicious for illicit shipping. Try again.


Password is suspicious for illicit shipping. Try again.


Password is suspicious for illicit shipping. Try again.

I sit back in my seat and stare thoughtfully at my computer. How can I get around its overly particular internal censor?

Please enter your new password.


I don’t care much for shipping this pair, but it will do.



Password is consistent with illicit shipping. Try again.


Illicit punctuation usage. Try again.


Password has been previously used. Try again.


Four hours later.



Acceptable password.

I nearly fall out of my chair with shock.

Please reenter password.

All right! Here we go!


The power goes out for fifteen minutes.

It comes back on.

My computer comes back on.

It’s waiting for me to reenter my password.



Password has been previously used. Try again.

I give up and shut the beast down.

I’ll just go read a good book.

Oh! Here’s a good one. I haven’t read this one in a while.

I sit down with it. All happily nestled down.

The power goes out again.

It’s apparently going to be one of those days.