I improvised this morning. I chose the 18 millimeter option over the 9 millimeter option because I want to remain a trusted neighbor. No one wants to hear gunfire at 0346hrs. Here, let me add clarity. Waking from a bad dream that found me running through an imaginary mall looking for at least one copy…
Author: Tim Cotton
The Leak
The beauty of a rough, unfinished interior—one that grabbed a lot of attention last night as a peaceful place, warm and inviting—is that if there is a leak around a window, you can find it quickly. With familial intentions to insulate and finish the interior of the porch with some pine, cedar, or hemlock, nickel…
Man-to-Man
This is the pod that transported my Mom and Dad around the planet for over ten years. In the process, there was a managerial change in which one of them was the chief pilot. A stroke for my Dad took away his ability to drive. No, actually, a physician did, but the stroke was the…
Speaking of Fire
It started innocently enough. I wanted one more campfire before I exited the Downeast region for a couple of days. Oh, and I wanted some music to read by. I gathered up my Kindle, my almost-new, electric blue portable Skullcandy tune emitter, and a bag of paper plates and egg cartons we were saving to…
Here’s to August
If we sat around, talking about the little things, I’d have to say at some point that I tend to feel a distinct change in the air when August enters the chat. But, I’d say that about September, October, and November, too. We’d simply have to wait a month or two to bring it up….
Today is the Day…
It’s in a cardboard box at the camp, waiting to be rehung after some renovations gone awry—an oval wooden sign. My grandfather hung the whimsical phrase over the mantel, just above the Remington pump-action model 12—.22 caliber rifle he bought at a pawn shop in Norwich, Connecticut, for three bucks in the early thirties. A…
The Gift is in the Rising
The morning runs to the airport, International, by the way, if you believe the hype, are always early. This morning was earlier. It seems that the summer schedule of flights scrubbed an hour off sleepy time, so we were en route by three-thirty. The conversations on these zero-dark-thirty runs center around whether or not we…
“Odor of Business”
“No, they all blink at a different rate, depending on species,” Sammy said. Me-“Ahhhh, it makes sense. So it’s like different scents of aftershave attract different ladies at the pub?” “No, that’s not what I’m saying. It’s just that different species of lightning bugs flash a different light pattern to be sure to attract their…
Sunny and 75—Until the Battery Died
No, I didn’t write a thing yesterday—got up early (consumed three poached hen bombs, and a slice of white toast), then spent the day— outside— polishing TTW’s (Tow-Truck-Wayne) latest towing contraption. It didn’t strike me as to how beautiful the weather was until around lunch when I took a quick ride to pick up a…
Happy Gotcha Day
As I slowed from sixty mph, I only saw it in my periphery, which—by the way—my acuity has been praised by friends, co-workers, and eye care professionals. I’m not bragging because what I am about to tell you about myself shouldn’t be praised. It happened, and I am willing to tell my story to the…