Between the two occurences of dad's accident and me finding him, he had a terrifying dream in which he was wandering aimlessly through a very dark, brambly section of forest. He happened across an old, deserted mansion, the type you might see in old horror movies, the once white walls now showing a mildewed gray peeking through the kudzu. Dad somehow found himself taking refuge inside this place, only to find it in refuge at…

Dad here; bad news at the Casa; at exactly 0328, we were rudely awakened when  a train bearing toxic waste derailed in our neighborhood; haz mat teams were scrambled from all the neighboring states in an effort to contain this foul mess before it could get into the jet stream and possibly cause an international diplomatic incident by contaminating the ecosystems of nations around the globe. Or it might have been that a thousand nervous…

Pops passed a year ago this month; after 31 years together, to say that this old girl has felt a bit disconnected since then is an understatement of epic proportions. It was bad enough sitting alone under the carport,  waiting in anticipation of I don't know what, but when they put me on the auction block, well, that was just a bit too much. I could just imagine some pimple faced Lothario buying me and…

After camping the last two weekends with the guys from Step Ministries, it seems almost odd to wake up at the Casa on a Saturday morning. Thing are as they should be; the inmates have all braved the Dew monster to go outside and tinkle, bringing our cold, wet, feet back into the house to trample dad's tender vegetation, finally settling back in to our rightful places on the bed. The hum of the space…

Shortly before bedtime Wednesday night, dad spots a (full) 16 oz bottle of tea on the kitchen table; in this house, a drink of any type left unattended is fair game for poaching, but dad leaves it alone... ...until morning. When the tea is still sitting unmolested, dad declares open season and quickly slugs it down. He is in the process of ironing a shirt when mom walks in: "Who drank my tea?" "I don't…

It's been 1,176 dog hours since we started my blog last Sunday; although a week doesn't seem like much, life is such a whirlwind at the Casa that it's hard to keep up with the shenanigans. Dad and I are about as tech-savvy as a pair of orangutans, and if patience is a virtue, neither of us must be very virtuous; mom says that if either of us had two brains, one of them would…

Even though there are many parallels between the story of the crate and the story of Easter, I'm very cautious about drawing any direct comparisons; what happened on that morning centuries ago changed the world, I'm just hoping to influence a small part of it. When dad was growing up, looong hours on the pews gave ample opportunity to find humor in the Bible; you can only spend so much time looking at the pictures…