1st generation Canadian-Hungarian
Father, Fly fisher, Chef, Reader, Leader, and working on writer.
Feedback appreciated anytime. Tips always appreciated.
White Line Fever - Part 4
He first noticed it at the convenience store. Then he overhead it walking through the market. Usually, it was the small liquor store across the tracks where he'd pick up a case but he wanted to linger amongst more people. He drove further into town and stopped at the Wine and Beer Boutique. It was even heavier there. He had one more stop before home. He wanted to bask in it.
White Line Fever - Part 3
Shambles lay atop the sun-warmed freestone rocks of the dry river channel. Content to lounge lazily while his master flung line and pursued trout, he allowed the energy from the ancient stones to soothe his body, his ears twitching only occasionally at the calls of squirrels and the telltale splashes of Luke wading further along the river.
Homemade Ice Cream Sandwiches
Ever since my daughter has become Google savvy she has appeared at my side with requests. Well, maybe it’s more of a challenge.
The Disappearance of Michael Dunahee.
March 24, 1991, was a normal seasonal spring day in the beautiful Canadian West Coast city of Victoria, British Columbia.
Hoarding Your Favorite Author.
Since our youngest reading days, we have been struck deep by authors. We started holding these fabricators of phenomenal fiction close to our hearts. In those years of our youth, our adolescence, pre-pubescence, then fully charged hormonal hurricanes, we had many different voices talking to us through the dark ink. Direct conversations from their fingers to our souls. We had a lot going on in our lives. We needed those voices. There to understand our plight, foster our dreams, and nurture our rebellion.
White Line Fever. Part 2.
“Geezus! Luke!” Sara exclaimed in shock at the shattered mug. “Why don’t you sit down? I’ll get this.” She told her brother.
The Empty Wallet Shopaholic
Free is NEVER free. "Can I get a carpet cleaner for free?" she asks me from the living room. "Why is it free?" I ask with apprehension.
When is a Pie, Not a Pie?
When is a Pie not a Pie? It's when you smash all that goodness into a Cupcake. I love Pies. All kinds, from the deep delicious French Tourtiere, to the bone warming, soul-satisfying Chicken Pot Pie, but what I really love are the sweets. Whether it's Berries or Apple, Pecan or Key Lime, I love them all. The only problem with a pie is the size.