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Fleeting thoughts of granny squares

Fleeting thoughts of granny squares

The Wet Coast is no place for this fuzzy fantasy​​The trees are sun-kissed radiant red and gold as I hunker down to write this, in that little sliver of crisp and dry days between the months of dumb-dumb flipflops and the damn rain boots. Not that I’m complaining...
No use fretting over earthquakes

No use fretting over earthquakes

Hand-makers will be the change when or if ‘The Big One’ hits​Of all the things I fret over — a neighbourhood arsonist, identity theft, Trump burning it all down, an all-out war in the Middle East — ‘earthquake’ is not one of them. But it may seem like I’m...