Most of these ‘dips’ can be eaten/consumed/read in a single sitting. Then, if you wish, you may shoot me a note declaring this or that tale was “frightfully awful” or “splendid” or “enh” or “gimme more.”

It’s said that there’s a story in every human alive.

Same can be said of all the animals and birdies and fishes on land and sea.

You oughtta read an English translation of a fierce argument between the canines and the felines here on the farm. It makes for torrid reading.

Enough fol-de-rol.

It’s almost time to start dipping, but first, a little backstory about this writer.

Nevertheless, there’s this:

Born in Boston last century.

Navy officer father. Translated: you move somewhere else in the world every two years, carted, flown, shipped hither and yon.

A peripatetic youth. Just when you’ve settled into a routine at a new school, new friends, new culture and language, BOOM, time to go.

At age fifteen, off to boarding school in New England, then the stint/sprint to a sheepskin at Johns Hopkins’ Writing Seminars Program.

Settled in Washington DC for “careers” in public relations, currency arbitrage, cheffing at the city’s finest French restaurant, and old house restoration guy.

Married a doc.

Fled crazy DC a year before 9/11 turned the Capital City into an armed camp and bought a horse farm on a river on Maryland’s Eastern Shore, nine miles from the Atlantic Ocean.

Wife still doctoring while this husband manages the farm and writes everyday.

Enough already. Time to start dipping. Enjoy!