A delivery truck on a cross street. A plane climbing to cruising altitude. The rumble tumbles through my bedroom windows, comforting enough to lull me to sleep.

Then light flickers through a slit in the closed blinds, and one of Thor’s bowling balls knocks a #10 pin into the dark with a growl, and I know I am in for another midnight thunderstorm.

Last week there were three of them in a row. The rumbles would give way to flickers and growls and then to flashing strikes and booming claps that seem to shake the house. Read more about Thunder in the Night

If there’s one thing I wish I had more of, it is memories of Mete Sozen.

Mete Sozen, my sister’s husband, died in his sleep on Wednesday night last, at his daughter’s home near London. My sister, Joan, gave chest compressions while his daughter, Ayshe, tried mouth-to-mouth resuscitation, but even after that, after the ambulance and the doctors had a go at it, he slipped away from them all. Read more about Mete

I have bad dreams. Just last night I had one that didn’t make any sense. I dreamt that my favorite ex-boyfriend had found a new girlfriend, and that their families were getting together and everyone was very happy, and when I realized this, I was inconsolable. Sobbing my heart out. Then trying to drive as far away from them and all their (our) friends as possible, thinking of things to do to forget about happiness. Read more about Bad Dreams

I came thaat close to being the victim of a con job.

Funny story.

I’m trying to rent out my spare bedroom, so I took a nice picture and placed an ad, “Pleasant Room in a Pleasant House with a Pleasant Woman,” on Craigslist, Madison. I hoped it would attract a graduate student. My neighborhood isn’t exactly happening enough for an undergrad. Read more about Close Call

Believe what? asked Shadow. What should I believe?
Everything, roared the buffalo man.
—American Gods

All the fairy tales are real and all the myths are true. Didn’t you know? The Year of the Crow (rephrased by author). Read more about I Believe in Christmas

I’ve been a Charlie Rose fan since the old Night Watch days, well, nights. I was dating a bartender, and we’d come rolling home about 2 or 3 in the morning, and there was dear Charlie talking to some comedian or actor or somebody like that. A veritable life preserver as we were coming down in the wee hours. Read more about Sorry, Charlie

It’s four months since I rode into Madison with my son in a Rav 4 full of belongings. Almost four months since the Pod arrived in my new driveway with the rest of ‘em. I think I'm beginning to settle in.

Things I Like

My House:. Read more about Settling In

Cows! We got cows! Read more about Disaster Porn

Time to go. Read more about Used to be finding the house

Thirty-two years ago, a girl walked into a bar. This is not a joke.

That was my one-liner from my Farewell to the Moon party last night. It contained two minor falsities. I actually arrived in late September, 1985, and at age 42, I was hardly a girl. But moving on – there wasn’t much more I came prepared to say. Once I started digging into the memory files, there was a good chance the band would just have to go sit down. And nobody, not even me, would have been happy at that. Read more about Blue Moon