a yearlong diary in three-line poems by Jeff Rogers, day 39 A Good Sunday Morning I love to arise in the still partly dark. Faithful old Red slips off bed, hobbles to kitchen. I grind beans, brew black, french-pressed; cut strawberries over oats, which Red Finishes. Reclined in leather, Red curled nearby, I finish Ender’s [...]

a yearlong diary in three-line poems by Jeff Rogers, day 38 Red and the Marathoners Red wakes me for the park 8am sharp with a dedicated face-lickin’. Once there he wades into group of high school runners resting in the shade Plops down in the middle smiling as they pet and coo over him.

Our wild September is coming to a lovely end w/ a baby shower, which will take place in our backyard tomorrow. Basically our biggest responsibility is getting the house clean and smelling wonderful — which is a little difficult with our smelly (though completely lovable) dog, Tulip. So we have a mobile groomer coming by [...]

a yearlong diary in three-line poems by Jeff Rogers, day 37 A Few Stops Along My Road 1. Love me love me love me. Please. 2. I want, therefore I am. 3. I am, therefore I want.

. a blogumn by Roya Hamadani Tomatoes are the world’s most popular fruit, so it is fitting that they have taken over my garden.  A glut of bite-size, pear-shaped yellow tomatoes are ripening in my backyard, clustered on the vine like grapes in bunches of three and four.  They have reseeded themselves for two years [...]

Good Gawd, mama’s tired. Miss Betty is calling herself trying to cut a tooth, and she has been letting us know that she’s not happy about this situation at various times in the morning for like two nights now. Not cool, man. Not cool. But at least the comments did us right this weeked. Check [...]

Mwah-ha-ha! As previously guessed you did not guess that yesterday’s lyric was from “Don’t Matter” by Akon from Senegal. Man, I throw some Top 40 at you guys and you just fall apart. But this means that our International Theme Week all comes down today’s song, which is either by a non-English speaker or has [...]

. Proof of Nerd ID by Charles Cron SHADOWS & FOG EDITION A cubic mile of ordinary fog contains less than a gallon of water.

In France, loulou means … well I guess it means kid, as in: eh les loulous [hey kids, listen up], or gros bisous aux loulous [big kiss to the kids]. M happens to have 2 loulous, who are twins, a boy and a girl, one month shy of their 5th birthday. In spite of my [...]

a yearlong diary in three-line poems by Jeff Rogers, day 36 Jam-Up on the Cat-Oh-Five We live in LA, city of traffic jams on the 405 and other freeways. One recent morning we had three cats bunched up outside our cat door. Elise announced: “It’s a jam-up on the cat-oh-five!”