Brad Pitt, Fight Club & Gritty Philosophy 


Find Peace in this Life


Stop Buying Bullshit


Find a Fucking Purpose

Funny memory


One of my earliest memories is of my mom and I coming home from Grandma’s house. I was little, maybe around 4 or 5. I was still riding in a car seat, and we were in her station wagon. It didn’t have air conditioning and the windows were down. Kids didn’t have to ride in the back seat by law yet so I was up front with her. We took our freeway exit and while sitting at the light, a man pulled up in a beat up old chevy who also had windows down. I looked him square in the eye and cried out, “Daddyyyyyyyyyyyyy.”

My mom didn’t even turn her head. She got a laser lock on the traffic light with her eyes, nary a muscle twitched on her face and flush began to spread over her face. 

It looked like this.

Trading Places-Nice Purse

My Love Affair with Food Continues


  • Soft fresh dark pumpernickel topped with savory trout smoked fish dip.
  • Mini Baybel cheeses in their delightful red suitcases.
  • Slices of honey ham or roasted turkey.
  • Straight from the Jewish deli, a nice white chicken salad spread with optional red currant jelly topping. 
  • Banana slices with almond butter dollops.
  • Lychees in heavy sweet syrup.
  • Green, black and kalamata olives with roasted red peppers and Pearl onions cold salad mix.
  • Über buttery hard pretzel sticks.
  • A pale Sleepytime tea with individual honey pot.
  • A small glass of chilled white wine as a digestive.
  • Icy cold glass of Coca-Cola. 

My New Religion


I’ve decided to start my own religion, Church of Bobrossian of the Latter Day Paints, achieving peace through happy little clouds.

Hollow Woman


My tale begins in the arms of my lover. “You look pale,” he says, brushing a lock of chestnut brown hair behind my ear. “I haven’t been feeling well lately,” I reply. Confusion sets in as I contemplate the fact that I’m normally as rudely healthy as a peasant. It disconcerts me.


Days later, after being diagnosed with “walking pneumonia” or what I like to call “walking dead” (see below visual representation) the confusion has been replaced with gasping as I lay in bed trying to breathe. I never thought it could happen to me, and didn’t understand what was happening.

Daytime health achievements were followed by debilitating, tear wringing nights with my heart fluttering in my chest like a caged bird seeking release from its chambers as I fought to get oxygen into my body.

And so…. the worst is over. I am on the mend. Like a storm that has ridden in on churning clouds and vicious winds that fall away on gossamer threads leaving only silent contemplation in its wake, the worst has crested and I’m left with aftermath.


I am weak. Walking only a short distance requires a rest on each end. I must still wear a mask, not because I may infect someone but because my immune system is as fragile as a china teacup.

But I feel me. I am in here. It’s only a matter of time until I’m healed. 

I look forward to the day when in my beauty and strength once again compel and propel me into the arms of my lover.

For now, for today, I am simply….

The Hollow Woman