Fame has eluded me as an anthropologist, folksinger, and carver. But, unfortunately, I doubt writing will provide the adulation needed to boost me to the point that I'll have to run to avoid groupies.
Since my hip operation, my sleep routine has been shattered and episodic. But it has also been filled with dreams.
The concept of being wet takes in a bit of territory. On the coast, you can be "wet from birth," meaning you grew up on the water
He thought he was done collecting herbs for the day.
Parsley, Sage, Rosemary, basil, and no thyme, yet. Today I took the morning to harvest some herbs from the garden. I still have a considerable amount of basil and rosemary to do.
My Judo sensei was relentless, he'd walk around us casually, then without warning sweep or throw us to the ground. With a smile, he'd then point out the weakness or flaw in our stance that allowed him to throw us.
A recent poll showed liberal art and social science grads as among the top regretters of the degree programs they had chosen. Among some, this has encouraged the entrenched believers in "hard-edged" degrees to say the equivalent of I told you so. I guess it's soothing to know that you made the right decision even though your hard-edged and tightly skill-designed degree marks you for obsolescence within a decade of graduation.
One of the things I discovered in college and grad school was that my past as a folksinger, road bum, and general neer do well was not universally appreciated by professors and peers who had "played by the rules" all their lives.
With September absconding with the warmth of August, I should have been back in Boston. But there I was helping the Cap'n prepare Pysche for the winter layup.
I had problems as a government functionary. Lurking just beneath the surface was my satirical and absurdist take on things.