Last week, I received an email one morning from a reader of this here column. He said he enjoyed the words spilling out over this one particular page every week, then asked if I had thought about putting out a book. It had been awhile since that notion floated through my mind. And, truth be told, it dusted off some aspirations I’ve been keeping in the closet of my mind for too long.  

It was nearing lunchtime. In the midst of putting out the newspaper last Tuesday, I was getting hungry when I realized it was almost noon. I hadn’t eaten breakfast and was still craving eggs, sausage, toast, hashbrowns (with onions) and strong coffee (at least two cups worth).  

Sunday. Late morning. I’m awakened by the sounds of a curious dog in my upstairs neighbor’s apartment. He’s a sweet pitbull mix. Always running around the yard, happily barking at the knowns and unknowns of this big ol’ world outside of his second story window. 

To preface, this column does not reflect the views or opinions of this publication. For the last 12 years, this weekly column has been (and will remain) a vessel to conjure and express my own personal thoughts amid the wanderings and ponderings of my existence.