Tell us about your morning routine.

I awaken from a slumbering sleep, which feels like stumbling at times because I keep tripping over memories while I am trying to create something at the same time. Connections with real and fantasy. I am not sure which is real or fantasy and my mind will work through them during the day. Some become stories or bodies of other work I am doing. I bathe, dress, do dishes because I have learned someone is always going to leave some behind because they were too hard for them to do. I will then make breakfast which can be anything between a frittata or cold cereal. Today it was leftover cold pizza with orange juice. I had coffee on the side but an unwelcome guest, an elm bug, decided to take a bath, and I didn’t see it until I began to sip it, and nearly choked. I dumped it out and cursed, why can’t the little f…ks bring their own damn cups. I gathered my things to write or draws. It is not really a difficult task because I have them in a bag for me each day as I leave. My greatest risk will be if I leave my keys and have to ring the door bell until I awaken someone to unlock the door so I can retrieve them. It has happened a couple of times.

I pulled weeds on my way out to the car and again after I put my things inside. Then I open the gates and close them again after I pull my car out. Then I drive three and a half miles to my favorite coffee shop, where the baristas smile at me, and call me by name, or another nickname they have given me, like “Blue eyes” or “Smiley”. One or two do call me “Dear” or “Honey.” It really is a friendly place. If I can keep from distracting myself, it is a good place to write.

Which relationship has taught you the most about yourself?

If you could live anywhere in the world, where would it be?

They say home is wherever your heart is. I do not recall where I read or heard this but I have lived this way.

I have moved many times because of the requirements for feeding and caring for family.

Sometimes this worked out well and at other times, not so well.

Still, if I had a choice to choose, it would be in a place where I am truly loved, and respected, so my life would be filled with joy, and I would collect memories of each day filled with this joy and the things that filled each day.

Is a little chaos actually good for us?

I imagine a little chaos as being a dropped glass of water that breaks and makes a mess, while possibly threatening to cut my bare feet or hand. Or, I suppose it could be like my toupee blowing off my head (I don’t have one) while outside and blowing down the street and lands on the chest of a woman I know and attracted while chasing it. I suppose it could be my toilet overflowing after a guest used it. These things like these would be chaotic and embarrassing, and possibly harmful. We can survive these little things, and a great deal more but it is all in the definition of what is “Little”.

I have survived many things greater than the things I suggested as small and I did learn and I am grateful for surviving but I am not sure all were good.

Tell us about your first day at something — school, work, as a parent, etc.

I was a hands in father, and held each by hand as I walked them to school, or later drove them walked them to the gate if the school. One road my shoulders on her first day after we kicked up piles of mixed colors of leaves that had fallen from the trees seemingly overnight.

I remember catching the eye of my daughter’s teacher who looked like a little pixie to me, bare foot at the door, and her dark and very short hair. I wanted to make sure she knew I was bringing my daughter for her first day of school.

Her older brother was excited for his first day, and ran as fast as he could because he wanted to play.

My oldest daughter’s younger brother flipped up his collar and became someone I did not know because I think put up defenses because he was afraid.

My youngest years later was prepared, with her little backpack, and new clothes, because she began her education much earlier and had already been to many preschool programs, and was calling us mother and father, which made me chuckle. Later, she would call us, simply,  mom and dad.

All grew up to become they are today, but like all children, which will sometimes will break your heart, when it happens, is those first steps of stepping away, and you already know they are growing up and someday go away.

Have you ever performed on stage or given a speech?

Although we rehearsed for many weeks, the moments before the curtains opened, and I peeked outside to the auditorium to see the people coming in and sitting down. A fear and excitement comes over you and your mind and stomach churns.

It was not my time on stage or my giving a speech, because each moment stands on its own, and even with preparation I never felt quite prepared, often fearful of forgetting everything I rehearsed for.

The first time I was only six and giving a speech on a little boys take on pilgrims around Thanksgiving time.

Apparently, even after rehearsing and reciting my talk many times to others at home, on the day I began I began firm, strong, and composed. I knew this all from my heart.

Unfortunately, somehow the pilgrims in my talk came from Japan in 1964. The audience, although many younger than me, and quite a few who were not, laughed, and laughed with delight.

Adding to the foray which added to the hilarity of the moment, was my mother sitting behind me, trying to get my attention by grabbing my pant leg to help guide me, and I was brushing her off, and thinking she was the one making them laugh about a serious matter that I had well in hand.

The second time, I was behind the curtain and ten years older. I was one of the main characters in a Christmas play, and my nerves were on the heightened side.

I was afraid, as the curtains opened, and I was blinded by lights and applause as I strained to see the crowd in front of me.

I began with my opening words, and the audience disappeared, and I became the character that I had rehearsed to become.

My co-star forgot to come out onto the stage because she was watching me, and I repeated her lines, because they needed to be said, before I moved on with more of my own, and she hurried onto stage, and whispered to me she was sorry.

The play ended, and it was a success. My sister still occasionally says, she loved the play I was in, some forty years ago.

I never acted again, but did do a couple of commercials, walked a runway, and even ran lights, sound and curtains for others.

The memories which I never forgot, including one where I acted as a presenter or host a couple of times, and told a couple of jokes and warmed up the audience for a wonderful evening.

I still feel these moments intimately, because I am an introvert, who found himself in positions beyond his comfort zone, and survived many wonderful things, when I forgot to be me.

Name your top three pet peeves.

My top three major pet peeves are

• My dogs sneaking up behind me and licking my elbows
• My dogs not picking up after themselves after using the bathroom outside.
• My cats not changing their own litter boxes

What’s something you believe everyone should know.

It is very important to declare the few things that can delight the taste buds.

Crunchy peanut butter with kosher dill pickle on whole wheat bread is fantabulous.

I swear once you try it you may become addicted.

Okay, I admit it may be a stretch to call it Heavenly, but it is good.

What part of your routine do you always try to skip if you can?

My initial giggle response was, “waking up”. I really don’t like getting up sometimes, especially early.

Yet, I know this is not true because I love life, and awaken to the challenges each day, as long as I have a cup of coffee.

The second response was concerning exercise. I love when I do it, but then do admit I do need to encourage myself to let some things go for a bit, and take this time for me.

I imagine, although it was not and has not been my intention, was to skip the things that were important to me, while focusing on the needs of others.

What food would you say is your specialty?

I love baking bread, or rather I did, once upon a time, this is the story I tell.

My mother was a magnificent bread maker as well, amongst her many talents she had.

I learned from her, although she did not teach me. I watched and learned and came to it in my own way.

Warm water, yeast, salt, flour and other secret things. Letting it rise into a fluffy cloud before the real work begins and mini-muscles flex and knead it into loafs, and rolls, when placed into pans and allowed to rise again before the oven takes over its duties to fill the air with aromas that start begin to fill your mind, and glands to become anxious for the moment they are done.

Butter, one with a sharp knife, and one to spread the butter, and possibly some jam. You check the time, and tap your toes, and check on the hot pads to make sure they are ready to protect my hands the moment the alarm, and window on the oven tell you they are done.

The bread never really had time to cool, and the moment it comes out of the oven the kitchen begins to fill with those who are anxious to be the first to get some, when it is still hot.

I bake less now, not for any particular reason other than those who once consumed it faster than I could make it are in their own homes now, but occasionally they come by when I am baking bread because I think they can smell it in the air, and decided it is time to visit.