from Get Thee to a Bakery

“I wish you wouldn’t do that,” my wife says. It’s a sunny Saturday morning, early September.  I’m climbing a ladder leaned up against the house. It’s that time of year. The air has begun to change; it’s both crisp and faintly rotten-smelling. Where we live we are rich in cottonwoods, proving that riches can also…More

Ravioli, Richard the Third, and a Dead Bird (from American English, Italian Chocolate)

It was not what I expected to find. “Last night I dreamed I killed someone.” I was checking a journal I keep to see where we ate those ravioli one year, the ones with the poppy sauce. A friend of mine wakes up every morning and writes down his dreams. An otherwise right-handed person, he…More