Gift horse

There's a gift in our apartment. I saw it, all wrapped in nice red paper. I should have shut up and paid more attention. Now I think I am going to have to wait until my birthday.

Bad Ron, no cookie.

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This morning I woke with an image that may work as the conclusion for a short story I put away a couple of years ago. I thought about it on the way to work, and took a few minutes to record what was in my head (I keep a micro-cassette recorder in my desk) (though I really ought to carry it in my messenger bag).

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My sister had to put her dog down a week ago Friday. His name was Thoren. No words. No words.

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Randy so deserves a back rub tonight.