Tag: Houndstooth

Tiny Tuesday!

In the not-so-subconscious preparation to get back to my real desk before doing a huge edit on two manuscripts that won’t happen if I don’t finish the second one, I finished another task.

Dating back to 2016, I’ve bought CDs that have been piled everywhere in stacks, either because I wanted to upload them to my computer music library or because they needed to go into my CD books.

What needed to be uploaded has been, and now they’ve joined the other CDs.

Although some are in sleeves I want to keep them in, so they’ve joined the box of random CD collections (I still have a Frank Sinatra disk missing out of a 4-CD set) and other sleeved music.

This was one of the cool surprises when we moved into Houndstooth Hall: a built-in stereo cabinet that’s connected to speakers in other rooms of the house. We couldn’t believe everything still worked. In winter, if we use the fireplace, we have to keep the door open though, or that cabinet gets a little toasty.

Now what do I do with a sack full of plastic CD jewel cases that aren’t recyclable… Maybe I’ll figure that out by the time I read that book on loan from Timothy J. Lambert or hang my signed Justin Tipton poster. TINY STEPS!

Some things…

I got rid of another stack (nine inches high!) of work documents. I feel lighter and get to recycle paper this way.


This is my big desk where I’m not working right now. I think I’ll be more inclined to return when I get rid of the rest of the records and paperwork from my old job. It’ll be a fresh start! I do miss my wallpaper with my pretty pictures of 49ers quarterback Jimmy Garoppolo. =)

I wrote another poem with a prompt from this book the other day. It may not be readable on this picture. Doesn’t matter.

Hope is the thing with feathers

I’ve wanted for a while to add a small Buddha to Aaron’s Garden. Did that today, and Lisa B, when I went to place it, a feather waited in its spot for you.

“Hope” is the thing with feathers –
That perches in the soul –
And sings the tune without the words –
And never stops – at all –

And sweetest – in the Gale – is heard –
And sore must be the storm –
That could abash the little Bird
That kept so many warm –

I’ve heard it in the chillest land –
And on the strangest Sea –
Yet – never – in Extremity,
It asked a crumb – of me.

Emily Dickinson

Tea on Thursday


Because I’m Southern, of course I drink iced tea, and naturally I have tea towels. We’re elegant here at Houndstooth Hall; we must live up to the expectations of our classy BatPack. In case you can’t read this one, it says, “If things get better with age, I must be getting close to freakin’ magnificent.”

Tea towel was a Christmas gift from my sister-in-law Terri T, not to be confused with my sister-in-law Terri G, because double Terris are good luck, y’all.