the latest posts tagged ‘mr. forte’
it’s a wrap
Lunchtime at Casa de Swell on a soggy Sunday in late January. Mr. Forte sets his reading glasses and legal newspaper down next to his placemat (the red striped fish one). On his plate is last night’s leftover machaca rolled in a tortilla next to a spoonful of potato salad. HIM: Is this a wrap? (said…
then again, maybe not
The scene is Sunday morning at Casa de Swell. Dining table with cups of coffee, half-eaten almond croissants, sections of Sunday newspapers in piles – His Unread, Her Unread, All Read. A aging man and woman, dressed in fleece and slippers, sit at one end of the table in adjacent chairs. Winter sunlight slants into…
stumbling into graceland
My walk-in closet looks like an IED exploded in it: two fat piles of jeans and slacks, another of shirts and sweaters, scattered shoes I’m tripping on. There’s a rats’ nest of hangers out in the hall. I am ruthlessly culling the old or sick or awful; I have vowed to show no mercy;…
another addition to the frozen zoo
My handsome husband Mr. Forte (no, that’s not his real name) and I were sitting at the table this morning, eating toast and drinking Blue Bottle coffee out of our favorite dishes (his mug has a lizard and a cactus on it, my cup is plain white and the size of a small bowl)….
in the dying light
The finches are back. A flitting, chattering flock of tiny green birds appears in the elm outside my office windows at the ragged edge of every summer and stays as long as the camouflage works. As the ground cools and the leaves fade from Pippin Apple Green to Dirty Yellow Ready-To-Drop, there are…
no, really, he didn’t see your …
Mr. Forte (my husband and, no, that’s not his real name) goes out in the backyard to eat a banana and survey our property beyond the snake wall nearly every morning after finishing a bowl of Cheerios and before he suits up (his term) to go downtown to the office. On weekends, we…