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Newsletter Articles:

Hope at Walmart
I’m in Walmart. Everyone looks so hopeless. Eyes are looking at the floor. Elbows down on the shopping cart and bodies leaning over. The carts are creaking under the weight of it.
Blank facial expressions all around. Even the children. I catch myself thinking that these parents are killing their children and don’t even know it. Maybe that thought is a bit strong.

The God We Make
We have suddenly been given temporary custody of a large and powerful Doberman Pinscher. He is tall enough to give me a nose poke in the arm over the top of the arm of my armchair. He does this poking when he needs to go out. Or when he wants me to think he needs to go out, even if he doesn’t need to, but wants to. This would be the male dog manipulating the alpha male. Being king around here is an illusion.