indiana

Lady’s Doppelganger

lambchop 2_peter monn

If you do not believe dogs have personalities, my guess is that you don’t spend much time interacting with our four legged friends.  To anyone who has one dog as a pet, or three as is our case, it doesn’t take long to realize that like people, dogs also have individual and authentic personalities.  Such is the case with our Tucker and The Case of Lady’s Doppelganger.

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My 101st Blog Post…Now What?

peter monn snapchat_peter monn

It’s an interesting day outside today in Indiana.  It feels like fall even though the tulips are in bloom and the trees are full and green.  No further adjectives needed; Indiana in the springtime is green.  As I was sitting on our front porch swing drinking some coffee I read through some of the messages I received after writing my last post, my 100th post.  When you write something you never really have any idea of what kind of response you’ll get from readers, if any. Several years ago I wrote a post on my blog Thoughts From the Couch titled Vampire Flowers.  It wasn’t really much of a thought out post, but just something I threw together late at night, much like most of my posts.  I woke up the next day to tons of emails and messages from friends and people I didn’t even know commenting on how much they related to the post.  I’d like to say that responses like that make writing for me easier, but in the past they’ve made me halt and think deeper about my posts.  What I miss most about my early days of blogging was that I blogged often and didn’t really put much thought into my posts.  They literally were my thoughts just translated into words on the screen.  It felt awesome that for the first time in my life people related to my real self.  I could be myself and that was OK.  But now what?  What do I want from my blogging and writing now?

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Indiana Summer Nights…

indiana summer nights_peter monn

Lately, I’ve been keeping a list of all of my favorite things.  The idea grew out of an assignment I give my journey clients  on keeping an attitude of gratitude alive in your daily life. Since I have never given an assignment that I haven’t done myself, obviously I want to live the best life possible too, I sat down with my phone and made a new folder, titling it “My Favorite Things”.

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The Summer of Storms…

peter hat 2_peter monn

It’s been an interesting summer.  In early May I made a list of all of the activities and goals I wanted to complete and accomplish this summer, and now as the the end of summer closes in on us, I am reminded that I haven’t actually completed many of these goals.  In fact, I had planned to keep a diary for a year, but that plan fell apart on day one.  So what have I been up to this summer?

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On Borrowed Time…

view from my desk_peter monn

As I was sitting in front of my computer tonight, waiting for Alex’s family to come over for dinner, I was thinking about how much my mom loved having people over on Sunday nights.  She would invite a few people over and we would all sit around the dining room table and eat chili and raw apple muffins or chicken curry with homemade garlic bread.  Later, after the other guests would leave, my mom and I would sit in front of the fire and drink coffee while talking about a range of topics from her desire to have Hilary Clinton as president to the best Woody Allen film to random memories of her being a Pi Phi.  The night would drift on as we would play Bob Dylan and Neil Young records, smoke cigarettes and the stories would turn funnier until we would both be rolling in laughter.  Finally, it would be time for me to go home.  She always asked me to stay overnight, but I always refused, desiring to be in my own bed.  Now Alex and I live in my mother’s home and I sleep here every night.

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Suggestion Box

peter monn glasses_peter monn

When I was a little kid I loved to act like my kitchen was a diner and was the main waitress. Probably inspired by Alice, although I was much more like the “Kiss My Grits” Flo, I would force my mother to sit at the kitchen table while I took her order in an authentic, white waiter’s apron.  I played the role of overworked and underpaid extremely well, and would sigh heavily as my mom would order hilarious things like Coq au Vin and roasted pheasant, while I would suggest peanut butter and crackers and possibly a milk or soda, being that my cooking skills were minimal.  Come on! “Don’t shoot the waitress!” I’d scream, running around the kitchen amidst the lunchtime rush.  I could not be bothered with petty requests and surly customers.

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