Routine EtiquetteVibrant orange eyes regard me with a careful coolness every time I walk in the back door of my home. A squat, flat nose marks the face of the staring cat, with a splash of black fur painted onto his face much like a picture by Picasso, contrasting starkly with the snow white of his coat. Sir Isaac, the bi-color black-and-white Persian, is not to be greeted in the normal manner of greeting pets: he must be spoken to as a person, else the flicker of annoyance shows keenly on his face. A stern visage marks the cat as he sits, self-assured and waiting for my attention, as if he has other matters to attend to, but deems it necessary to speak withRoutine Etiquette
Hope Rolling and slipping and stumbling, I fell facedown at the bottom of a pit known as depression. December 2006—a month I remember through a haze of lethargy and loneliness, a month of false smiles and a chill that penetrated deeper than the cool Texas weather ought to have penetrated. I knew it wasn’t the weather; I knew it wasn’t the time. It was the crying of my soul for some ounce of sanity, some shred of comfort in a bleak, cheerless world. Through the edges of my despair, I recall a single waHope
A Question for My Beloved Watchers.
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Luminary Reef
I'm excited!!
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Mediocre people do exceptional things all the time.
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