Forget It


“No, first the noose then the head, neck, torso and limbs. Guess carefully, a life hangs in the balance. Too many wrong answers and…well…forget it. Let’s play Old Maid instead. The player who ends up with the Old Maid is the loser. Why? Well…because…forget it. It’s time for lunch. I made yummy cheesy grilled eggplant sandwiches! I know you don’t like eggs, no we’re not having eggs. It’s called eggplant but it’s not an egg…or a plant…it’s purple…forget it.”

The hardest part of toddlermommyhood might be having to explain the inexplicable.

Strawberry, That’s My Jam


The artist pauses to collect her thoughts on the steps of a random home in downtown Sacramento before making her way to a family friendly eating establishment nearby.


After taking some time off to reconnect with family and friends, our favorite singer songwriter makes a bold return to the studio. Skipping Stones magazine says, “You won’t believe your ears.” Spork! declares, “Strawberry, That’ s My Jam is the most important collection of singles released to date.” SWIRL monthly adds, “a soulful cheery departure from the forlorn heartache of her earlier work. A technicolor dream!” In stores now!


Back Porch Productions presents:

Strawberry, That’s My Jam

1) El em en oh peas (the alphabet song)

2) Tortillas and Scream Cheese

3) Manly Down the Stream (that row row song)

4) Strawberry, That’s My Jam

5) I Thee When (the I do song)

6) Juice Box Hero, Stars in Her Eyes

7) Play Dates Are for Suckers (I want the red one)


Chocolate Witchery

Made the mistake of walking down the snack aisle on a recent trip to the grocery store while hungry. I think there’s a name for this…Hunger Game of Carts? No, too long. How about Hunger-mongering? No, too ominous…never mind, I digress. Back to the blasted candy aisle:

chocolate aisle

I took a wrong turn and there I was hungry, alone, candy everywhere I turned. Sunk a little deeper into regret by making eye contact with this little beauty:

Chocolate 2

Moonstruck indeed! The packaging bewitched me. Seriously, the marketing team must be a gang of witches who craft these mind control spells and hex people into making purchases they never intended. I transformed into some kind of famished chocolate-bot and before I knew what I was doing the candy bar was nestled gently between the bread and the cheddar cheese in my shopping cart. No, I’m not kidding. The last thing I remember before I came to in my car with a stomach ache and chocolate wrappers strewn about was reading this on the packaging:

Chocolate 3


It’s only natural to desire that which is irresistible. Namely Moonstruck Dark Chocolate Sea Salt Almond. It’s an idyllic combination of the sweet, the salty, and the very dark. Follow your dark thoughts. They know where they’re going.

Give in to your cravings.

Apparently my dark thoughts are drunk driving aimlessly at speeds of 100 mph because if a chocolate hangover is a *thing* that might explain what I’m experiencing. Dear buyer, do beware. Ridiculously delicious dark chocolate sorcery lurking about the shelves on aisle 6.



With Love, Boris

The final installment (for now?) of notes from dear Boris. If you feel lost refer to last week’s post, Along Came A Spider.

An Edited iPhone Snap from Richard Scarry’s Best Mother Goose Ever Golden Book

An Epiphany and a Toast

“Boris was a friend to so many and touched a number of lives in a variety of ways. He was always willing to lend a hand.”

Why is everybody crying?

“Boris enjoyed an eclectic assortment of music making it difficult for us to choose something appropriate to honor him. We finally settled on the obvious choice Boris the Spider, The Who.”

Oh clever, what a snore! Relieved they didn’t choose that overdone Itsy Bitsy, unbelievable! Why didn’t they invite that wretched Miss Muffet as well!

“But perhaps best of all, Boris will be remembered for his remarkable sense of humor, he was ever witty and sharp, if you hoped to keep up with his charms and avoid the occasional sting your reply would have to be swift. Dear sweet Boris, to say you will be missed hardly touches the surface of this ocean of great sorrow left in your wake. Farewell fond friend!”

I’m a ghost spider now, is that it? Well it is early April perhaps this is all an elaborate joke. Get one over on old Boring Boris, isn’t that right?


Boris continued to cycle through the stages of grief and finally came to a place of acceptance and great joy in fact. A new chapter began that day. Although this reinvention of self was involuntary, Boris found it to be remarkably refreshing. He cut his hair, moved near the sea, joined a garage band, and he finally found the courage to fall in love. He had only one request of his bride-to-be of their wedding, no hot beverages of any kind. He couldn’t say why only that they didn’t agree with him. And that’s how they decided on an open bar.

And now if you would all raise your glasses in a toast to the adorable couple.

~The End


Creepy Crawly Conundrum

We left our 8 legged protagonist in a dark cupboard. He knew something was amiss. If you’re confused see yesterday’s post, The View From Here.

An Edited iPhone Snap of Oliva's T-shirt
An Edited iPhone Snap of Oliva’s T-shirt

Blinded By The Light

Suddenly there was a sensation of movement, being transported through time and space then plunk a settling down of sorts on a cold counter top. A train whistle (?) sounding off confirms that all is not right with the world. And then…nothing. I’m not sure what happened, to say it plainly. I was in this dark place one minute and the next thing I remember is being shot out like a cannon ball, soaring through the air with grace, I can only hope. There was this beautiful bright light, no not the electric variety more of a glow, a feeling, I felt light, I was light. Now I seem to be invisible as does my web design. But I guess it doesn’t really matter because I’m not that interested in food anymore. I lost my appetite somewhere along the way. Wait, I recognize that song playing in the background…

Is that…

The Who?

[creepy…crawly…creepy…crawly….creepy creepy crawly crawly]

Yes it is The Who! And, what’s this? Wow look there’s my mom and dad! And my uncle, niece and nephews. They don’t respond when I say hello, they don’t look at me at all. It’s as if they are staring right through me. Then my brother stands before everybody, looking uncharacteristically formal and somber before saying,

“Boris wasn’t a materialistic spider, he was more than satisfied with simple comforts; a cupboard to sleep in, a safe place to create his prized web designs…”

That’s an odd way to talk about me, as though I’m not even here. Could this be a dream, a joke maybe?

****to be continued****