The Glorified Footstool

The convenience of meeting up in January is the “how long have we been together?” math is super easy.

Most married folk can relate to the lackadaisical lounging attributes of the recently married but not yet geriatric couple. We’re quite comfortable together. Physical contact is built into our love language, so this sort of draping, lounging, languid touch means something. You don’t have to talk constantly.

I thought I wanted more conversation. That was important in the beginning. I make sure to ask how his day went and listen to the venting. But most of the time, what is there to talk about? Newspapers and books have been replaced by phones in this digital age. We discuss the big news, reflect on experiences, but all stories have been told at this point.

So our connection is this glorified footstool position. It’s human nature (for physical types, that is.) Just be a warm body in a room. Let me know you’re there. Reassure me I’m not alone.

Oh, and pick up your dirty socks. This isn’t a farm.

This has been,





I do so love staring out of windows. Cozied up safe from the elements whether cold and snow or sun and wind. I like to catch little moments of something or another.

You see the wind tussling long grass or kicking up leaves. Some days it’s a flurry of white flakes. If you happen upon a robin scouring for worms or dark crows pecking at beetles, it’s better. Your eye happily follows the movement.

A bit of thought trails in. Your eye reflects inward. Either the past or the future has captured your attention and you’re quite lost to the present. You might even be blind to the walker with their dog thoroughly enjoying the weather.

Your mind returns to the present. The wind is still blowing. The birds have moved on. Shadows play across the lawn instead. It’s moments like these I love staring out of windows.

Which makes it doubly sad our current residence has no decent window views for gazing.

This has been,

Fanny T. Crispin


Obligatory Holiday Post

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone.

I’m thankful for my health.

I’m thankful for my job.

I’m thankful for my family.

(I can’t tell you how much I hated doing this as a kid. Yuck.)

I’m so dang thankful to be a writer in this amazing digital age. Wow.

Happy National Novel Writing Month. You’re killing it – and that’s a good thing! Now take a break and eat some food.

This has been,

Fanny T. Crispin