My Cardboard Balcony

I am in Scotts Valley for another wedding on Sunday. This time, my fiancée is a bridesmaid. She and I are two months and three days away from our own wedding. There's a lot we've covered and a lot we still need to deal with. I have been thinking about politics less and less, which is nice. My anxiety does still need to be managed a bit more, though. I have days in which I become mentally paralyzed. I stare off into space. I cry in front of my family. I'm looking at some of my old writing projects. Some are unfinished. Maybe I'll finish them. I'm editing for now. In the meantime, I'm working a lot. I've got to meet some new students, and I love teaching them so far. ...That's really about it, my few readers. Yeah, I know. Another one of those short, stilted introspections. Hey, don't get too mad. I went to the bride-to-be's family dinner, and we had a good time. So now I'm tired. Have a great night and a great weekend, everyone.

Haven't Lost One Finger Yet by Belinda Roddie New Olympic sport idea: Chainsaw juggling. I'd get the gold.

No update on the OneWord website today. Happy Friday, everyone!

The "Wasp" by Belinda Roddie The "wasp" was a lady dressed in yellow and black. No, it was not the acronym for Anglo-Saxon Protestants. No, no, she looked just like the insect. On a whim I came up with the label. But her clothes were only the beginning. She was tall and skeletal, with pointed face and nose and gangly arms. When leaned against the wall, she looked ready to bite or sting someone. I half-expected her to buzz with rage when I got her latte wrong. Then her son popped up, and he was in the larval stage! Fat as a grub, and just as squirmy. We kept quiet around that strange family.

"So...are you two..." I eyed Martin cautiously. "Are we two...?" He looked down at the floor. I could see his ears going red. "Are you two...dating?" I looked at my wife and couldn't help chuckling. That seemed to embarrass my seven-year-old student even more, so I left my shopping cart and knelt next to him. "We're married, dear," I said to him as his mother began walking down the aisle toward us.

Surviving World War III by Belinda Roddie Sometimes I wish I could withstand an atomic bomb with you. We'd drink the radiation like wine and not feel an ounce of pain. We'd gain superpowers just like in the comic books and learn how to resurrect the dead. We'd rebuild what was destroyed and add gold leaf to boot - of course, if there's any gold leaf left in this scarred world after the sound and the fury subsides.

"It's dark in here." "Can't see a bloody thing." "Who's got the torch?" I passed it to her. She flicked it on, and instantly, the room was filled with orange light. Nearby, we would see a few chairs, a couch, a grandfather clock. We didn't know where the creaking was coming from? The walls? The door we had opened up to get in? "Damn," I muttered, shrugging at the rest of the group, "doesn't seem like any ghosts are here."