
D’you miss us? We’re gonna eat that elf.

D’you miss us? We’re gonna eat that elf.



Ooo, Snowball. Nice flexibility.


For Dad, who gave me the bookcase and the love of words, and needs extra love right now, and for Grammy, who gave us the sonnets, and is always smiling from the other side.

Scrub-a-dub-dub.






Housebroken.

G’night, Brotatochips.




My blue jay knocks at the back door and later leads us on a neighborhood walk to a blue jay rock and pretty mushrooms. Thanks, buddy.
