Origin Story

I went back to physical church this past Sunday after one year and four months of watching the weekly service online. It was weird – the smaller attendance, the lack of the usual treats and coffee that were always present, and saying hello to people I had not seen since I was last inside the building. One of those people was Brenda, who is a very sweet soul and who I have helped with volunteer opportunities in the past. OnRead more

Light and Shadow

Green light of his eye holds a soulful gaze He lays in the comfort of red and gold Hardness of life digs into clouded daze The stress of being cat cannot be sold “Hey mom?” “Yes, Gibbs?” “Watcha doing?’ “Trying to write a sonnet or poem about you.” “I hope you are telling everyone that I’m a good boy.” You are, buddy, most days…” His world has changed somewhat for the better Gray paws roam free without prison’s firm gateRead more

Kittygate: Finding a Way Out

“It always seems impossible until it’s done.” ―Nelson Mandela Dear Mr. Gibbs, Did you ever think this was not going to happen? I love you to pieces, but there are days and times when deviousness and the desire for food outweigh your common sense. The area past the carpet is forbidden and that does not change when my back is turned or I am otherwise occupied with straightening the rogue hairs that occupy the left side of my head. It’sRead more

Musings from the Pod IV: Holy Mackerel!

“Hey Gibbs!” “Yes Ziva?” “I have been meaning to ask you something. What happened Friday night?” “What do you mean?” “I want to know what happened. I heard mom yelling at you. Loudly. I heard her say the “naughty” word and then mom chased you into the bedroom and shut the door.” “Yeah, so?” “What did you do?” “Why do I always have to do something?” “Mom yelled “naughty” at you, so that probably gives it away. You always seemRead more

SoCS, Poetry and Tale/Tail

“This is a story of two tails Who try to be tough as nails…” Ummmm…mom? Yes Gibbs? Are you writing poetry again? Why yes I am. It’s for Linda Hill’s Stream of Consciousness Saturday. Aren’t you a little late? You usually write on Friday night when you’re not feeding me and doing laundry. Yeah, well I was busy yesterday. Busy? You came home early on Friday. And then I left again. Ziva and I were wondering about that. I mean,Read more