What if there was an environmental property tax?
I am not a morning person. Never was, never will be. That’s not to say that I haven’t tried. For years, I stumbled out of bed before the sun woke up — to get into the bathroom first; to swim (I was a competitive swimmer in my youth); to take the early classes; to get into work before the traffic got heavy. I went to bed at a ‘reasonable’ hour to get at least eight hours of shut-eye. I did all those things to mesh with the rest of the world.
Luce stopped in later than usual. She looked worried, but she wouldn’t talk about it at the shop.
“Your dog’s sleeping in back,” I pointed my head toward the kitchen as I poured coffee. I didn’t want to have her thinking that I’d let one of her charges hang out on the street all night. It might only be late October, but the nights felt like November to me.
She slid around the counter and poked her nose in the kitchen, “Dolf! Such a good boy. You haven’t been making any trouble, have you?”
My home consists of four rooms above the coffee shop: kitchen, bedroom, bath and sitting room. The upstairs kitchen has a sink and clothes washer for appliances. It is where I store extra inventory and its table is my business office. The real kitchen is downstairs. From there I bake my muffins for the day and sometimes make sandwiches. I’ve gotten pretty good at muffins and am slowing expanding into sweet breads, but I’m no baker. Baking isn’t an elective in business school.
Later that afternoon, I shared the results of Officer Vinny’s investigation with Luce.
“Ernie’s right,” she said, checking the expiration dates on packages. “There’s something going on up there.”
“You went up again?” To my recollection, Luce had never been daring enough to brave the terrors of the old high school back in the day. She had been a good student and not that adventurous. Kind of opposite of how I spent my youth.
“I got a little closer. It’s definitely music and it’s coming from the gym.”
Choices, but none that I am in love with. I came upon this conundrum in the ordinary way: over commitment, under achievement. The usual stuff. On the corporate ladder looking at the glass ceiling one day, selling everything to open a coffee shop in a forgettable place the next.
Silverbrook is the working title of my 2015 NaNoWriMo project. What you see here is subject to change as I work my way through the draft. And yes, it is very, very, drafty!Also note, that my chapter boundaries occur without rhyme or reason.
A Blog about my experiences, good and bad, at Miss Porter's Summer Camp for Girls
The literature regularly suggests that the true difference in most abilities between boys and girls is negligible, yet acknowledges that girls are most likely to thwart their personal abilities in the presence of boys. There are many reasons for this, of course, but the fact remains that for girls to achieve their true potential, they often need a little help. Miss Porter's Summer Camp for Girls provides a healthy environment for girls to do just that.
Since practically forever, human beings have wanted to fly. I think representing angels with wings as higher beings testifies to this: because beliefs aside, angels don't need wings to get around.
I stumbled upon the app Relax Melodies a couple years ago somewhat by accident. At the time, of all the apps in the genre, it had an overwhelming (perhaps 100 to 1) number of reviews and positive ratings than its nearest neighbor, so it was kind of a no-brainer to try it out. Like so many others, after a few minutes of playing around with the free version, I went right back and bought the premium version. Within a week, I had it on all my devices: iPhone, laptop, desktop, iPad.