OMG, the van is his! I don’t know where it came from, if he bought it or he already had it. But the timing in which it appears matters.
Two weeks ago Alphonse went to a national gathering of motorcycles out in the middle of the desert with his wife and his brother and his brother’s wife.
He was gone for a week and I found myself unexpectedly distraught during that time. A couple months ago he went on a cruise with his family and I felt the same way.
(more…)
2025 was an incredibly challenging year for me.
Right out the gate my best friend, Monique, dies of MS. At exactly the same time, things with Jared spin dangerously out of control, forcing me to step away from him temporarily. But we weren’t done, fate had other ideas. I got really sick and then rolled an ankle walking down stairs and became grievously injured. The wizard might be broken and crazy but he’s still a wizard. Aside from that, I promised I would not abandon him. I went back to Jared.
(more…)
Two weeks ago I had a dream about Alphonse that was not a dream.
My dogs had woke me up to go outside around 5:15am and I got back to sleep around 5:30.
It’s likely that Alphonse was already awake at this time.
(more…)
I met a boy. I knew him for a while actually, but we didn’t know each other at all.
We were in a professional organization. He was there and I was there but his name had too many vowels and I never learned it.
He is a military combat veteran turned doctor of mind fuckery and headmaster of a rehab school for young wizards. Injured in the call of duty and recipient of a purple heart, he runs his business like if a swarm of army ants were an entrepreneur. Handsome and fit, he looks fine on the outside but looks can be deceiving.
(more…)
Facebook has a major case of the poo-butt. Everyone is heartbroken over the demise of Brangelina.
It’s the end of an era, like when the dinosaurs died out and you could no longer buy cars with 8-track players in the dash.
I wonder if they can return all those children? Probably not, but maybe if they still have the receipts. I mean, it couldn’t hurt to ask. Right?
(more…)
No Rest For The Wicked 