Two days ago, the Ides of March tackled me face-first into the red clay dirt of Alabama.

Then, those devious Ides threw me in a sack of rocks and tried to fling me into the nearest swollen creek.

Somehow, I squiggled out before wet met sack and survived. Mind relatively intact, heart still whole.

The short of the story is this…

My 17-year old, four-legged and furry muse had a TERRIBLE night on the 14th, leading to TERRIBLE decisions having to be considered.

Miraculously, a swift recovery for dog arrived with the dawn. Unfortunately, the nut-in-charge’s recovery was not nearly so speedy.

Hence, blog silence for two days.

Apologies for that… and for the next days of quiet as I head down to Tampa Bay to meet my potcake puppy.

Blessings certainly abound this beautiful Sunday, but the old brain is still smelling the musty scent of  rock-filled sack.

Until Wednesday…


Acclaimed author of 17 novels (my dogs and mother adore me), World traveler (I’ve felt the Sahara Desert between my toes… still gobsmacked over the stars in the Sahara) And survivor (of three dirty-fighting gremlins named Anxiety, Panic and OCD)… My name is Chloe Stowe. Hello. If you’ve found your way here, you’ve most likely arrived on the coattails of my blog, The Words and Madness of Chloe Stowe. Started in 2012, my daily rantings now number in the thousands. Ranging from humorous to moody, poignant to absurd, these tiny tidbits of thought began as a way to get my name “out there.” It has long since morphed into an effort just to “be there” for anybody out there struggling with words or madness, like me. Quick biographical sketch of me? Nerd turned nut at nineteen. In my sophomore year at Auburn University, I was taken out at the knees by severe panic attacks. Chronic anxiety soon joined the dogpile, followed shortly by OCD tendencies. Oh, it was ugly. I eventually had to quit school and soon quit life, as well. I spent a good chunk of my 20’s not able to leave my room. Twenty years later, it’s still can get ugly in my head. Thanks to meds and doctors, however, I am able to lead a better life, now. I still can’t work outside the house, but I can live and smile and write. So, here I am. Broken, but stubbornly present. I hope my voice proves company to someone lonely out there. Thanks for reading! Chloe Stowe

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