My monthly dose of crazy (more pleasant this time)

    When I’m at home alone I’m rather careless about where I kick off my shoes. I figure, if I trip over them, it’s my own damn fault. So when the front door eased open a few inches before hitting my little Miami Vice slip-ons, my first thought was, “Oh shit, Chase is trying to come in and I’m an ass.” But instead of barrelling though and pushing them aside, the door suddenly jerked closed and I heard a lady stranger’s voice.     “Oh.”     Our building is the result…

Made/Watched/Did/Nails—And.

And. However I feel about any sort of thing where one does something daily in a group goal, NaArMaMo is a good excuse to maybe focus on what I am doing and making a bit while working in all that various media I know, because I seriously stagnate (ew) if I focus too long in a single one.  I personally call bullshit on “NOT NECESSARILY VERY GOOD ART. But a finished achievement of artistic endeavour.”  Because why the shit would I bother if that is the case. So, we’ll see…

It was possibly our first real piece of furniture

We had this couch.  It was a great fucking couch.  Chase could stretch his full six-foot-plus length on it.  It loved when you napped on it, but was just uncomfortable enough to stop you from sacking out too long.  The nap couch. We tried to get it up the stairs to our new place, but the stairs had too many sharp turns (a side effect of an old house being split into apartments), so we had to find it a new home.  So, like most people in the Portland metro…