Dog Days of Podcasting: Sunday Brunch – Mail Call


Is it technically Sunday Brunch if I record it at 6:30 PM? Do I really care? The answer to both questions is NO!

The piece itself is the Sunday Brunch piece from 26 August 2012. You can read it, listen to it on SoundCloud, or play it in the applet below.

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Dog Days of Podcasting

Dog Days of Podcasting: At the End of the Day

Dog Days of Podcasting

Yes, it’s morning, which for most of us is the beginning of the day.
Yes, this is a catch-up post from last night because I spent all day yesterday in the state of mind that Jo March would have referred to as a “vortex” and I call “extreme writey-ness.”

So, listen at, or just click the play button below:

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Dog Days of Podcasting: Strawberry

Dog Days of Podcasting

Today’s almost-daily podcast offering is a very, very old vignette from the vaults, “Strawberry,” that was inspired by a father and daughter who used to come in to the cafe where I worked when I was 18 and 19 years old.

You can listen to it on SoundCloud or play it in the applet below:

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From the Vaults: 3 for Zorro

I was looking for something on the ‘net and found this, written October 19, 2007:

Remember that everyone you meet is afraid of something, loves something, and has lost something.

Write either three short verses or one long stanza about these three things – fear, love, and loss. Any form of poetry is fine – haiku, a sonnet – whatever works.

* * * * *

I’m not a poet. I dabbled in verse ages ago, but I generally think in sentences. Still, it’s a good exercise to play with other forms once in a while. I don’t post verse or fiction to my actual blog. That’s what this is for.

* * * * *

I. Fear
Monsters with headlights whizzing by
Cold rain falling from the sky
Hiding for naps
Begging for scraps
Constantly running on tiny feet
This is the life of a stray on the street.

II. Love
He reminds me of the childhood poem
About a little shadow
Up and down the stairs, he’s at my heels.
In the kitchen, he’s underfoot
On the couch or in bed, he curls against my hip
Puppy kisses tell me what he feels.

III. Loss
Day by day, I’m seeing him fade.
He’s withdrawing from us a little
As if he knows his clock is winding down.
His muzzle is grey where it once was black
The “eyeliner” that helped earn his name is nearly gone
He’s taken to barking at the other dogs in town

Ten isn’t old for a Chihuahua, they say
But they forget the epilepsy, the years on the street
And the dental issues, and the heart disease.
They just see the spry little man with the sickle tail
Ears erect, nose a-quiver, eyes all big and round
Like a plumber, the vet never hears him sneeze.

I know our other dog feels second best,
Which is ridiculous because I love them both
Differently, because MissCleo is a dog for play
While Zorro, my little man, is content to be quiet
Always near, his quiet presence warming my heart,
I don’t know how I’ll deal when he finally slips away

Zorro dog died in February, 2009.