Siri- Make Me Real

The right color eyes

the creamiest peachiest skin

not a golden hair out of place

a life set to music


Instagram, Immortalized on Facebook

envied by numberless aching hearts beating in bedazzled phones world wide.


I want to be that woman

who exists in perfection with  the swipe of a finger


A command to Alexa an order to Siri

Hey Google

make me like that wonderful girl

that  refined and delicious woman

who wants world peace and never has to open a door for herself


Hey Google,  can you cut my muscles, rearrange my bones fill me with gel and fat until I’m a work of art too?

Can you make me sound like her, move like  Her Alexa?

Will I be valid then Siri?


I want to be as real as her.

The girl who exists in perfection

with the swipe of a finger

against a  plastic cover

on a bedazzled phone.


FOWC with Fandango — Valid


The Cookie Jar

On Friday I had to take my dog, Hamish Macbeth  to the Vet’s- his paw was bothering him and he had been licking at it for almost a week.

At one point the swelling went down and flared back up so there was no googleing ‘ how do I cure my dog’s itchy swollen paw’ for advice ( because I’m not trusting my dog’s health to the interwebs ) and it was off to the Vets for us.

Photo A.M. Moscoso
Hamish waiting for the Vet- he’s pouting because we had to leave reception and he was having fun out there!

Here’s the thing about Hamish, he considers the discomfort of an exam or an inoculation a very small price to be paid for getting to be around other cats and dogs and people who are animal friendly- plus he gets so cookies so it’s all good in Hamish Macbeth’s books.

He is cookie jar half full kind of personality.

Lucky for Hamish it was only a slight infection and we went home with some drugs and by Monday I knew he was feeling better because he spent the weekend playing with his toys and jumping up and down on the bed- which he had stopped doing when his paw started to bother him.

But if you ask Hamish what the best part of the visit was- he’d probably say it was the nifty new toy he got…others have referred to this toy as


Remember though- he’s a half cookie jar full kind of personality:

Photo A.M. Moscoso

That’s right.

Hamish loves this thing.

He loves bopping me with it and then running off. He figured out how to careen off the walls with it when he’s running around the house. He even figured out a way to trap my cat under it.

Here’s the thing.

When we left the Vets Hamish was not happy. I mean his foot hurt, he was a champ when the Vet had to handle it and examine the spaces between his nails and the pads, but that could not have felt good. He had also been having loads of fun and when it came time to go…

he wouldn’t get in the Jeep.

So I had to pick all 84lbs of him up from the ground  and lift him into the back seat of my jeep and then I had to clip his seat belt onto the back of his harness ( did I mention he was sitting on his seatbelt and wouldn’t move off of it…BOL Hamish ).

Once he was set I told him he was a good boy and that we would be home in a jiff- and instead of smooching me which is something he does when I put my face next to his-

he sneezed on me.

In case you are curious- I did no get bent out of shape or angry.

Hamish is a Cookie Jar Half Full type of personality and he’s entitled to an off day or an off 10 minutes  and if he can end that off day by turning THE CONE OF SHAME into a nifty new toy how could I ever be angry with him?

He makes me laugh and smile-always.

Photo A.M. Moscoso


Almost Home

Since December two people have stepped in front of a train in a town that I pass through on to get to work ( yes, on a train )  and were struck and killed. I have to admit, I am haunted by the thoughts those poor Souls must have felt when they did that. I guess this little story is about that second when a very bad idea makes it way into you- and where it might come from.


” I come here every morning at the same time, just a few minutes before the 1564 comes through and I ask myself-” she said to the people standing next to her ” Is today the day I feed the beast? Or do I keep walking with everybody else to the other side?”

They- the same dozen people who got off the train and crossed the tracks to the parking lot every single work day of the week- could hear the train whistle blow from up the tracks and within a minute or two the railroad gate arm started to lower, it’s lights started to flash and it’s bells started to ring.

Nobody wanted to look at her, nobody wanted to talk to her because even though she didn’t look like one of the homeless people who lived along the tracks she sounded exactly  like one of them on a bad day- she had the voice that merged on despair or hollow and forced jocularity tinged with anger.

The train was almost to the station and there was so much noise  it gave everyone there a reason to not look at the woman who was looking up the tracks towards the incoming train.

She was still talking, they could hear her just under the sounds of the bells and the train’s engine and they all felt the same- relief. Nobody needed to have crazy talked forced on them- they were almost home.

They were almost safe.

Not safe yet though, because each of those words was no only etching themselves  on their brains but the insides of their eyelids” Is today the day I feed the beast?”

They didn’t realize that was happening at that moment but they could feel it in their bones.

After the train roared by and the bells stopped chiming and the gate arm started to raise they heard her say, ” I might not feed the beast, ” did she laugh or was that sound she made a cough ” but someone here will. ”

” I can smell it.”

A few of them chanced it and looked around to catch sight of the woman, but she was gone.

A few others looked from one face to another and wondered if she had ever been there at all.

When they reached the other side of the tracks they weren’t walking so close together like they usually did, they weren’t chatting or even looking at their phones.

The words she put into their ears, the words that were nesting themselves in the darkest corners of their minds snuggled down and made themselves at home.

Someone here is going to feed the beast.

They were sure of that.



FOWC with Fandango — Crisis