My facebook page, if you like that kind of a thing

Posted in New Links on July 26, 2011 by Verge

Click Here to head over to my Facebook Page

welcome to my head

Posted in New Links on August 25, 2010 by Verge

If you like what you’ve read, please share my blog with others.  You can do so by clicking on one of the links at the end of every post to automatically post to your Twitter, Facebook, Stumbleupon, or WordPress accounts.  Or, just recommend it to some of your friends when you tell them you’ve read something cool.  That would make you cooler, too.  Thanks and Enjoy.  Oh, and you can like my Facebook Verge Page Here.





Posted in Streams with tags , , on December 12, 2022 by Verge

“A man dies when he refuses to stand up for that which is right. A man dies when he refuses to stand up for justice. A man dies when he refuses to take a stand for that which is true.

Like it or not, this is how I roll…

Posted in Grinds My Gears on May 19, 2022 by Verge

The difference between a know-it-all, and someone who knows it all, is whether their opinion and advice was solicited in the first place.

I think I have something to say again. That doesn’t always go well for me.

Something I saw in Tampa

Posted in Daily Pictures on February 23, 2021 by Verge
For the record, this is my own personal recording, I do not profit from this post with monetization.

Protected: i guess this is my pandemic post

Posted in Daily Pictures on April 17, 2020 by Verge

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The dark and the light

Posted in Daily Pictures on April 17, 2020 by Verge

It’s just a kiss away

DIY Kombucha Recipe

Posted in Brewing, Fermenting, Recipes on February 1, 2020 by Verge

This is the at home recipe for making your own Kombucha.  Keep in mind, you will need a SCOBY and some left over  Kombucha before you can even begin.  Perhaps I’ll make an addendum to this post to tell you how to cultivate your own SCOBY from store-bought Kombucha, but assuming you already have one available, follow these instructions and in two weeks, you’ll have free Kombucha.


This is, by default, a 2 gallon batch recipe, but by changing the value in the upper left hand  corner in GREEN to the number of gallons you want produce, the Excel spreadsheet will update all of the values automatically for you.  Follow the instructions and you should be on your way to continuous and free Kombucha.

The Beginning of the…Beginning, I guess

Posted in Daily Pictures on May 1, 2019 by Verge

What a more Millennial way to state such a ambitious resignation.  Such is life.


Beth Orton @ World Cafe Live Philadelphia, June 15, 2018

Posted in Daily Pictures on June 16, 2018 by Verge

NFL Films raises Philadelphia Eagles Super Bowl 52 Championship Flag

Posted in Daily Pictures, Sports with tags on April 14, 2018 by Verge

Every year, NFL Films raises the flag of the Super Bowl Champions at its headquarters in Mt. Laurel, New Jersey.  The ceremony is only open to employees of NFL Films and distinguished guests.  This year was extra special as most employees live in the vicinity of Philadelphia, and this was the first ever Super Bowl Championship won by the Eagles.


Posted in Daily Pictures on April 8, 2018 by Verge

“Do you still remember when we used to let you feed the fish in our pond”?

“Yes…I do.”

“You were always excited.  It became a routine.  When I came home from work, you and your mom would be in the front yard, making chalk drawings on the driveway, or walking around the neighborhood, but when Katy and I came home from work, it was time to feed the fish and you always wanted pickles.”

“Yes, I remember.  Pickles still remind me of our old house.  And fish.  That pond, it still reminds me of being a kid.”

“Do you ever drive by your old house?”

“I mean, I haven’t yet, but maybe now, or someday…I don’t know.  I guess it never seemed so important until now.  I mean, do you?”

I let out a long exhale, wishing that the end would never arrive.  When I open my eyes, our driver had left the highway.

“I always go back to places I’ve lived.  I don’t know if that’s something normal people do.  But I do it.  Once, when I was younger, I went back to the house that I grew up in, and knocked on the door.  The family that owned it let me come in, like they probably still would to this day because it was such a small town.  The only thing I wanted to see was if the teeth marks on the window sill in the kitchen were still there.”

“Teeth marks?”

“I remember when I was 3 or 4, while my mom was talking on the phone, I would knaw on the kitchen window sill.  The marks were still there.  Painted over, but still there.”

“Why did you care?”

“I don’t know exactly.  I guess that’s what you’d call nostalgia.  It didn’t mean anything at the time, but somehow it became important to me.  Such is life.”


“Do you mind if I draw?”

“Why would I?”

“I don’t know, it’s just Dad, he always wanted family time in the car or something.  He didn’t like it if I drew.  He always wanted the perfect little vacation”

“It doesn’t bother me.”



“Why doesn’t it bother you?”

“Why should it.  It’s your time, why should I tell you what to do with it?”

“I don’t know.  It’s just, it always seemed that I’m supposed to be doing something expected.  Something I don’t really want to do, or care to do, but was just the thing I’m supposed to do.”

“I’m not the one to ask about that sort of thing.  I’m not one to, I guess, decide what’s right for you”

“Okay. I’m just not used to it”


The stale highway behind turns into a more rural setting, trees lining the county roads, less and less signs, more and more fields.


“What are you drawing?”



“They’re the most difficult.”

“How so?”

“Well, they’ve got a lot of knuckles and bends and shadows and wrinkles and that sort of thing.  Plus, I don’t have a bowl of fruit in front of me currently.”

“I see that.  I was always a horrible drawer.  Or painter, for that matter.  Katy was so good at it.

“Well, I guess, I like it, and it’s kind of like a puzzle to me, something to figure out, like a crossword, but with pictures instead of words.”


The car windows crack and the musky autumn air reaches into the car as the procession files into a crawl.


“You know, I’m supposed to take care of you or something, right?”

“Yes, I know.”

“Do you want that?”

“I’m not sure.  I never really knew you that well.”

“Yes, I know, and perhaps that’s my fault now, but here we are, together, if you know what I mean.  It was hard to keep in touch when your parents moved away from us.”

“I get it…Will things be different?”

“Yes, a lot different.  Honestly, we’ve only got each other right now.  Things will change, but right now, we’ve gotta’ do this thing…So, I have to ask, do you believe in god?”

“Why would you ask such a fucking weird question?”

“Because it’s what I promised your mother I would do when this time came.”

“Shit.  Um, that’s such a fucked up question.  I mean, what’s your definition, exactly, of “god”?”


In a rare moment, she cries, her hardened and apathetic demeanor abandoned, and in an equally rare moment, I do not.  Instead, we have arrived at the moment, and I open the door, and then hers, and we deal with our hands, sometimes holding, sometimes drawing, sometimes folding, and sometimes falling apart.



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