The ordinary kind of odd
In 2006, more than sixty Snohomish county cold cases were filed away waiting to be solved. Some of these cases were only a few years old, but others stretched all the way back to the sixties (Hefley, 2009). Even with breakthroughs in forensic technology, the sheer workload was too much for the cold case unit. …
Continue reading "Playing with a Full Deck: A Unique Approach to Solving Cold Cases"
I didn't have a chance, really. When my mother was pregnant with me, she, along with the majority of the nation, watched a grainy white bronco speed across Interstate 405 in the now infamous OJ Simpson chase. My own interest in whodunits started young. As a kid, I'd creep downstairs and sneak-watch Law and Order …
You stood under the covered area listening for frogs. For all the fit winter had thrown, summer had come fast and summer had come hard. The frogs croaked in lulling hush tones having their own renaissance in the honeysuckle marsh. The dragonflies hovered sleepily over the fishing pond and every so often, one dipped into …
If I ignore a work in progress too long, I start to catch myself avoiding it completely. Perhaps the best strategy I've used to fight this is self-imposing deadlines. Of course, as the deadline looms, I conveniently push off each short story until the week of. I know procrastinating is self sabotage. I know my …
Continue reading "The Unlikely Relationship Between Perfectionism and Procrastination"
Freya’s silhouette was barely distinguishable from the dark line of the sea shore, but that didn’t bother Catherine; not when she could hear her voice over the soft waves. “So tell me about this boyfriend you’ve been so caught up with.” Catherine smiled and shook her head without regard for sand tangling up in her …
After a timely run in with car problems, I’ve been walking to work lately. I also have a new job, which is an entirely different fabulous story but completely off topic for this thought piece. The walk to work isn’t particularly daunting: it’s just a mile down the main street in my small city. Straight …
The perpetual stench of stale cigarette smoke had permeated into the cracked fabric chair. Renny O’Reilly dropped his jaw as he took a drag of his own cigarette letting the smoke leak out of his mouth and nostrils in a loose, unconscious exhale. Fresh air was hardly a necessity at this point. He barely missed …
