Put a Name on it.. why I hate the hill named Larry.

Larry.. I forgot to take it from the bottom and sure as hell am not walking back down to get that pic.

Larry.. I forgot to take it from the bottom and sure as hell am not walking back down to get that pic.

“Age catches all in her slowly closing embrace,” this is a somewhat eloquent interpretation of time and its affect upon us. A more blunt perception of this would be “Getting Old Sucks.” This presents itself in both subtle and not so subtle ways..

The subtle…..

Strained recollections of things once so common, the absence of recognition of the who’s who on the red carpet(which your watching cause you cant find the remote to change the TV back to the history channel), or the painful revelation that your favorite high school song is on the classic rock station…

Then, there is the not so subtle..

Deciding how important an errand is based on is it worth putting on pants, the use of ointments.. (the key here is frequency and plurality) and lastly .. how and where gravity has to do with it..

stairs.. body parts.. walking uphill….

These brings me to the uncomfortable issue of Larry.

As further evidence of my chronological placement I still use the old southern technique of the anthromorphization of inanimate objects to channel frustration and aggression..

AKA..”put a name on it”

In this case it is a unpleasant hill on Otterman St  as it leads to my most recent source of inspiration and more importantly the closest source of my beloved Caffeine from where I am house guesting here in Greensburg. My hosts are the most marvelous of souls….but for one inexplicable disinterest in coffee…thus giving cause for my morning trek.. a overly long short walk up the back of LARRY, the name I have placed upon this most hated incline of asphalt and brick.

Each morning here.. I have been reminded of time’s not so subtle effects.. specifically the harsh mistress of gravity on my body parts..  and as for the passersby on this grueling stretch of ground between myself and caffeine I am sure they wonder what happened to make me mumble “f*%k you Larry.” about every third step I take.


Sun in the rain. The Sun Dawg Cafe’. A Bohemian Oasis of food, philosophy and Style


Sweet Potato Chili…, Rum Soaked French Toast, Or the incomparable Mango Dawg…

These are just some of the most extraordinary creations by Ray and Rachel (Yes I put it in that order, yes they get the irony, and no.. they don’t it find funny ..) Husband and Wife proprietors of the Sun Dawg Café.

Located at the corner of the Outwardly ordinary and mundane( actually its Main and Otterman in Greensburg, PA.) The Sun Dawg may be eight  rough steps down beneath the street, but a mile and more above the curve when it comes to slow lean ambiance, and fantastic reinventions of the classics of Americana Café Fair.

Ray and Rachel, (yeah I know… I know….) are clearly in the groove of doing what they Love, doing it with some serious style, and providing a culinary experience that has me pouring over the menu like a Klondiker who wonders how many nuggets he’s got in his pan, shining in the sun.

Take for instance Sweet potato Chili….I have to tell you that the name alone had me curious for the sake of it, but just one taste and I am hitting it harder than a B- List has been  Just out of Rehab. To put it more seriously, it was culinary brilliance.

And That’s the thing.. the Menu is filled with such treasures as can be seen on an old school chalkboard that teases you with its casual presentation, hinting at its ever changing nature that beckons you to try them all before they are gone. Added to this is a gem of equal value which is the genuine connection that Ray and Rachel forge with each and every customer who finds there way down the rain clad steps to this bright and friendly abode.

This more than anything, this fusion of place and being and food and soul makes at least for me, the Sun Dawg Café a place to find yourself, and if you can’t find yourself, then this a place to start and have some damn fine food along the way.

I could write more.. but Instead I will leave this hanging in the air.. Pumpkin spice Cinnamon Rice Crispy  Delight..

Nuff Said..


Feldan’s Fury(A peek into Eaglesong, Book One of the Eun Trilogy)

What Say you


While writing Eaglesong I began to fall in love with the characters and what they represented to me. It was both unexpected and a source of real enjoyment. The bond of friendship(A central theme throughout Eaglesong) is best appreciated between The Centaur, Wynsik, and His Fellow Ogre Buster, Feldan IronBelly.

     Feldan got to his feet, and staggered over to his friend. Wynsik was hurt gravely, he could tell. The centaur was still conscious and he turned his head as best he could to face his friend.  “This may be our last battle together.” He said with some effort. Feldan nodded and choked back tears to say “Aye, that it might.” The dwarf then smiled and winked at his wounded friend, then looked to the giant who was trying to get the plainsman’s beast from his back.  The dwarf took a deep breath, and straightened his helmet.

Then Feldan went berserk.

Mugs had never known such…

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Camp Coffee, an afternoon of writing, and a very uncooperative squirrel.


I have had a most pleasant afternoon with the written word, the sunlight and breeze, and the a rather consternating squirrel who would not cooperate for the camera despite a consistent effort to get my attention.

He goes by the name of Agamemnon, or maybe its Tim, not quite sure as they are rather similar in appearance and disposition.(Which is rather disconcerting as these nomenclatures where recently issued by yours truly.)

I will endeavor to capture my thoughts as they come to me, and thankfully they are doing just that, in pleasant numbers and with better intent.

If I can only do as well with my camera phone.. and a very uncooperative squirrel.

Finding yourself in the Shadow of a Mountain.


A few days ago I began a Sabbatical. Though hastily launched, it had been  an action much fomented and longed for.

I have taken refuge amidst the dulcet tones of crickets and owls, with every  hue around me a mixture of calico sun through primordial greens warmed softly by lantern and ember.

The keepers of this abode, not so far from everyone and everything, hurry about with a tireless ease, efforting with a self actualized grace to delicately maintain the sanctuary they so graciously share.

I have come here, to this place, not to deconstruct the pieces of me, nor to make sense of where along the path of my life they lay.

I have come here, simply to be.

I do so in this moment, by moment, with the furthest wandering of my thoughts no further away than the pebble laden path that leads from one tree crowned field of green to the next, with a calmly breathed effort that each step I take, be it uneven or sunlit and smooth, is where I dwell.

It is not a peace or a stillness I seek, it is the reminder that they were always with me, should I simply heed each step I take.