Last wish

If on some cold, dreary day a virus takes my breath away, please burn me up and say a prayer then toss my ashes in the air.

My final wish I may regret and I’ll be damned, or so you’ll fret, but when to dust I do return don’t let it be just to an urn.

Do this for me, darlin’ please, just send me off into the breeze so I can float off through the sky and come to rest when time goes by.

I want to fall to Earth again upon a madman’s head so when he rants and raves above the din he chokes on me as he breathes in.

Reading on camera

One of my favorite places is a pleasant bike ride* from home. It’s a place called Inkberry Books, a little shop in Niwot, Colorado, that supports local authors and other independent writers and artists.

You can’t go there right now, but you and other readers can support this indie book seller by ordering online. Some authors even read excerpts for you to help you choose!

The proprietors were kind enough to invite me to do that, so I decided to give it a try.

An excerpt from Blood Solutions: A Detective Red Shaw Novel

Here’s a link to The Inkwell at Inkberry Books, where you’ll find more authors reading more excerpts.

Read on, my friends.

B.J.


* Speaking of bike rides, I took what I believe if is my first ever selfie the other day.

First ride with a “mask” in the days of coronavirus. A friend pointed out later that I had the mirror on the wrong side. Good eye! I left it alone.

Waiting for Susan

It used to be – back in the day, maybe last month – that Mrs. Smith always got home from work before I did. Now that I work in the basement of our Longmont dwelling rather than a basement office in Boulder, Red Dog and I wait for her return instead.

Red often waits just inside our front door, right by the little stool where Susan puts her bathrobe and a towel each morning on her way out. So far I haven’t curled up by the door with him.

When my wife gets home, she says a quick hello and sheds the clothes that will go straight to the washing machine. Then she steps into the shower in the bathroom just a few feet away from the front door. She is following the advice of her employer. The idea is to reduce the chances of sharing a virus that she may or may not have been exposed to while helping mostly elderly people rehab from hip replacement surgeries, strokes, and various other conditions.

So far she has not had to venture into the isolation area of the care center, where people who have been released from a hospital spend a week or so proving they are asymptomatic. I hope she can avoid that area, but if she is needed she will go there.

She is remarkably cheerful most of the time and brushes the fatigue away like a pesky gnat that comes around now and then. Somehow she has the energy to work out or do yoga upstairs, take Red Dog for long walks, and bicycle with me.

Susan is one tough cookie.