There's the voice again; the inaudible little guy on my shoulder…

As I stood shaking with bitter tears on the pitchers' mound at Memorial Stadium late that October evening, I had no realization of the crossroads I was teetering on.

The child walks the train tracks easily. Although she must look down, the intervals between ties are well-suited to her gait.

As she grows taller…

The time period when you first move to Boone…

Wanted to color the world green…

…the act of prolonging comedy…

The rays perforate the silent forest, dripping golden tears on the leaves in an evening rain of backlit beauty.

The crisp cool air, the leaves turning here and there and that feeling of culmination.

Here we ‘go’ again. What is it about public restrooms that makes me want to rant? This time it’s the inefficiency. How are you supposed to wash your hands when…

In this fast-paced world of millions, how do you stand out? What is the fingerprint you leave? In order to define myself as unique, I must look at what I do that no one else does.

What beauty there is in the precision of decision once we realize we are headed for an imminent collision.

Who are the Joneses anyway? Some imaginary family to keep up with? Some unattainable standard of living conjured from the media?

It was a cool feeling, really. Then a smell. What’s on my…

“…if you pick something up, you should ask yourself if it brings you joy. If not, it goes.”

Adventuring occurs best…

What else have we thought was something when really it was not? Who else have we blamed for nothing?

Don’t blow by them because it will be at least another year until you see them again.

After the dogs scare all the frogs into the pond,  I sidle up to the perimeter.

Another one crawls by, even larger than the others.