Musings

Mama Bear crashed through the underbrush, growling and snorting with her eyes locked on her targets—us. Her warning was clear.

A growing cacophony of chaos warned us of their imminent arrival, but we couldn’t escape before they mobbed us.

An interspecies dispute seemed minor until the Hawk Mafia delivered an unmistakable reply in the early morning hours.

If I hadn’t visited the gym on New Year’s Day, I would have never witnessed treadmill love. I thought I would share my misfortune with you.

As we prepare for Thanksgiving here in the U.S., I’m thankful for a small moment I witnessed of an exercise in honesty.

According to researchers, a medicine I use for my allergies is giving me a false sense of relief. Maybe I’m ok with that.

The older I get, I discover more and more creative ways to injure myself and add to my growing litany of aches and pains.

To achieve my writing goals, I need less order and more chaos, so I’m making some changes to my posting schedules.

In the waning days of summer, Brent confronts his arch enemy in a pitched battle, but will he emerge victorious or defeated?

What are fluffy tales? Why do I have five thousand of them? What do they have to do with publishing novels? Let me explain.

A technical problem at a restaurant reminded me of the aftermath of Hurricane Hugo when good people kept asking, “What else would we do?”

For a summer during my teen years, I taught handicrafts to kids. With my lack of skill, it was a fake it ’til you make it situation.