It's really too bad I never got a picture of Hosea with his sequined purse. I bought it for him at the dollar store last year--one of those flippy sequined things that you can make pictures on. Anyway, with all his bottle collecting and refund money he needed a place to keep his wealth! So I'd reminded him about his little zip up sequined purse, and he'd been using it for all his change. Often he'd take the change out and count it. Count the number of coins, that is. Over and over and over. Stack them. Count them again. Sort them. He'd carry that purse around too, sometimes. And then, just when I thought to myself I should REALLY capture this memory on film...well...he lost it. Or maybe I did. I'm not sure which. But it's gone, outside somewhere in the neighbourhood, probably picked up by some kid who likes shiny things, or anyone who likes money--for that matter. Hosea never cried about this. Just showed disappointment and acceptance. I felt bad for hi

Last night I went to karaoke. I don't go as often as I used to, because I'm not a wild and crazy single gal anymore! Do you realize I used to go AT LEAST once a week? Or more? In my hey-day of single-dom I'd be there by 9:00PM and head home at 2:00AM--or after. Sometimes I wouldn't leave until all regular lights were on in the place, the DJ was putting away his stuff, and the spell was completely broken. Many nights I'd end by singing, "Goodnight My Someone", from The Music Man. Sometimes I'd sing Etta James' "Sunday Kind of Love". By that time the place would have cleared out, with only the regulars still left, or the people there to really party it up. I liked that time of the night. There was always something kind of peaceful and beautiful about it. I didn't go to karaoke to meet a Sunday Kind of Love. I just went because I didn't have one! And I went because I wanted to sing about it--and other things, and I went because I