NoBoxesPlease

Summertime and the living ain't easy.

2011-08-09T15:21:00.000-07:00

Me and Sarah are holding on...so what else is new?

2011-05-04T16:40:00.000-07:00

No inter net connection

WinterWonderland

2010-12-29T13:50:00.000-08:00

Wishing everyone a very Merry Christmas and a most Happy New Year.

2010-08-01T16:06:00.000-07:00

It was a time when I was very young, either just before starting school or just after, I really don't remember. David, my little brother was walking and talking, but he was still a baby; a time before my brother became my responsibility. It's kind of like looking through a small window, this is how I hold this fragment of memory. The when and where's and why are all gone...only a small pain to look through.
What town in California, I don't know. I remember the small trailer-house we pulled behind our old green pickup truck. What had happened, I can only guess. My dad could have been drunk, and he and my mom were fighting. She knew enough to run. Where does one go for safe with two little kids, no money, and no one to turn to?
I remember being handed a single slice of white bread with a ladle of blackbeans in it. A bend-over blackbean sandwich. I had to walk fast to keep up with my mom, who was carrying David. I remember how hard it was to eat that sandwich while walking so fast. It was the best thing I had ever eaten. I was so hungry and the thought of dropping any beans made my uneasiness even greater. To be so hungry, and to have to wolf down something that tasted so good, and the thought of loosing any of it, because there wasn't enough to start with.
All three of us hurried down some street not knowing where we were going, just running away from him, the situation, something. We hadn't run far and I remember standing outside a church, mom urging me to finish the last few bites of my tightly held sandwich. Two big bites, a mouth full, and having to swallow it down, cuz we had to get inside that church fast.
There was shame attached to that bend-over bean sandwich, other people, normal people, didn't eat bean sandwiches. Those people in that church was better than we were. We were poor and in trouble with no place to go. We sat in the back so as not to be seen, less than, needy, alone, hungry and afraid. No help came. I don't remember leaving that church. All I saw in there were people better off than we were.
Time went on, we went on, I guess back to the trailer and my dad, or someplace else, I don't remember. I do remember the feeling of needing help...rescued, no one came to the rescue, not even God. It always made me sad, then mad. My mother, my little brother and how sad for that hungery, frightened little girl, me. It was hard to believe those church people with their words of, "Jesue loves you, yes he does..." and "Jesus saves all the little children of the world".
Time moves on, it gets better, then worse, then better again, just moving on and on, over and over. Like a wolfed down bend-over blackbean sandwich; it tastes wonderful but you're left hungry because it wasn't enough, and you wish you had eaten it slower, or better yet, had another one.
Yes, life is like a bend-over blackbean sandwich...at least it is to me.

The Rainbow

2010-03-28T11:23:00.000-07:00

Convenant arch, a bow, bridge of colour in light.
With mystery and magic knowledge might.
Each day and night in tune with you so far away,
The secret kept on cryptic wings of love,
Me so low, and you so high above.
And yet you touch me.
Teardrops fall in sorrow and gladness,
Dark clouds come and go, Rainmaker.
And yet I remember, never to forget you.
It is in the smallest things, the gift of life.
In work and play, learning.
You fill my cup with understanding.

Where Strong Things Grow

2010-03-24T09:40:00.000-07:00

While driving back to the cabin the other day, I stopped to take a picture of a pine tree growing out of a rock. The pine tree thrives where it's roots must be stronger than its surrounding neighbors. It is a symbol to me that life isn't always easy, and yet, with determination one can stand tall and grow with potential difference. Viva la difference!

Grange Hall Dance and Dessert Auction

2010-03-22T06:11:00.000-07:00

The saturday night grange hall dance and dessert auction was a sweet success.
Proceeds from the toe-tapping foot-stomping event went to the Arts Council and the School Library Fund. A good cause with good music and good friends makes for a good time.

Hot Rocks

2010-03-11T09:51:00.000-08:00

It's snowing this morning and I'm heating sooth river rocks on top of the woodstove. I use them as natural hotwater bottle. There is something magical and mystical about the healing heat of ancient stones. Sore muscles are relax and soothed, cares and worries are lifted, and a feeling of peacefulness flows like the gentle touch of love.

A Little Spring Cleaning

2010-02-25T08:51:00.000-08:00

Yesterday morning after starting a fire to warn up the cabin, unbeknownst to me, my horse SunDance had knocked off the outside chimmey vent. Oh no! The stove pipe started smoking bad. Thank goodness I keep my welding gloves by the stove. I promply through red hot burning firewood out the front door and opened up the back door to clear out the smoke.
What a wonderful way to start the day, and me still in me jammies. I felt like Cinderella scooping out hot ashes into a large stainless steel salad bowl. It was a bomie thirty-five degrees in the cabin so I closed the back door and waited for the stovepipe to cool down. I had ment to clean it the daybefore but was lazy and had put it off.
While cleaning the stovepipe, Sundance kept nickering and trying to help me, or maybe he was just laughing. The whole process took most of the morning and by late afternoon I had the mess cleaned up and another fire going. The cabin was warm and cozy again, then I looked in the mirror. "Oh no! So that's what a middle aged Chinderella looks like." Thank goodness for soap and hot running water. All-in-all, it still was a good day.

Hay! Whatcha Doing?

2010-02-16T08:31:00.000-08:00

The windows in my world,

Happy looking I see,

My friend.

"Yo Mama",

He nickers and whinnies.

"Sense and sensibility"

Can you see what I hear?

2010-02-08T08:52:00.000-08:00

My horse is a force of course, a source to wile the hours away.

We walk, we talk, we dance and play,

He's always got something to say.

Yeehaw!

Whoope!

Hooray!

I feel like a child again.

Crazy they say, she must be a fool,

Has she totaly lost her mind?

Oh no!

Spirit's way, a talking horse?

No way!

Hahaha.

They don't understand the words you nay and nicker.

Oh! You don't say!

Your great-great-great grandma is a secret.

Flicka?

Oh my word!

Go figure!

Your great-great-great grandpappy was really Trigger?

Yeehaw!

Whoope!

Hooray!

I feel like a child again.

And best of all,

My SunDance talks,

He's always got has something to say.

Looking In The Mirror

2010-01-28T09:58:00.000-08:00

My Mother was born in the Congo,
My Father came from the Stars,
Together they built the pyramids.
From a dark hole I was born.
Divine hands raised me,
To the light of the night sky,
Now I shine in perfect light.
For a thousand years I sat alone,
Thinking-I cupped water in my hands,
No words I write are untrue.
I am old, and young, and middle aged.
All my sisters are Queens.
All my brothers are Kings.
I've been called a brat and a snot,

What care I what they think of me.

Cow Crap

2010-01-03T23:06:00.000-08:00

Finding the answer to the mystery of yellow snow and ice.

Who's Been Munching On My MoJo?

2010-01-03T14:39:00.000-08:00

Who's been munching on my mojo? I'm guessing some of my four legged friends likes sweetgrass, and that's ok, last week was really cold and snowy, so they must have stop by in the night for a nibble at my fencepost art work.

What Are Large Canvas Oil Paints Good For?

2010-01-01T12:31:00.000-08:00

Had to nail the back door to the cabin closed because the wind kept blowing it open. Several weeks later when it started getting real cold, I nailed a blanket over the door frame. The problem with the front door was a little more tricky to handle. When you can see daylight all around the door jamb, you know ya got a draft problem. When the temperature drops to below zero degrees, and the cold creeps in like unwelcome ghosts, it's time to get creative and come up with a solution fast... can't nail the front door shut for obvious reasons. Well, maybe I could, but then I would have to crawl in and out a window...not real practical.

So as the snow kept piling up outside, Sarah and me cuddled in front of the woodstove. I thought about crying for a moment or two, then it came to me, use an old painting canvas I had rolled up in the closet.

The good thing is, the painting though not finished (someday I'll get more paint), is rather bright with colour. My painting canvas helps cut down on icy drafts, and it warms my soul with memories of earler times.

Soap Foam in the River?

2009-12-31T15:51:00.000-08:00

This summer I noticed pockets of what looked like dish water suds pile up in different places along the river bank. The photo is of yellowish tinted frozen foam.

December's Temperament

2009-12-05T05:55:00.000-08:00

The blessings of winter are all around when fat flakes of snow are falling. In the quiet hush of early morning with a hot cup of fresh brewed coffee, or tea held in both hands, my window view to the outside world is delightful.
It is my pleasure to provide a banquet for my feathered friends. My yard is a peaceful heaven, my table set with the prosperous bounty of autumn's delights, saved for such occasions.

The Mystery of Parallel Worlds

2009-12-02T12:41:00.000-08:00

A woman once ask me, "Do you see and hear things other people don't?" I answered, "Yes." Of course I would like people to believe me, and yet I don't care what most people think of me as much as I use to. Maybe because I enjoy writing science fiction and fantasy stories where magic and reality meet, some people think I just make up everything from my imagination. The truth is, I don't.
While driving back to my cabin one afternoon, I felt intune, it was a beautiful sunny day. A nondescript pickup truck passed me going in the opposite direction. For some reason I took a quick look in the rearview mirror and then pulled to a stop. "That's not possible" I said to myself, as I grabbed my camera and took a photo. I walked around noteing my tire tracks and my footprints left on the dirt road, then got back into my truck.
When I was a little girl, my Daddy taught me and my brother David to be a pretty good trackers. I have to laugh while writing this blog post, "Who's going believe me that while driving on a dirt road in the middle of nowhere, someone in a pickup truck from a parallel world crossed my path and left no tracks?" I guess those people that know me might believe me, and that's enough to help maintain my sanity when such things happen in my life. I'm really glad to be able to experience such phenomenon, and yet, I'm glad to have a good sense of humor which keeps me in balance By-the-way, my dog Sarah was with me, and she hasn't said a word about the incident, if she ever does, I'm in big trouble.

Winter Wonders

2009-11-29T10:40:00.000-08:00

It is the smallest of things that can bring beauity to a cold winter's day: a warm kitchen, the smell of fresh baked bread mingled with the sweet gift of colourful flowering Dutch bulbs, the sound of a friends voice calling from a far away country just to say they miss you. It is in those moments that time stands still, and you know that all things are connected in the magic life has to give.
So when the window edges grow frosty with ice, and a blanket of deep snow covers the mountains and meadows for several months, my kitchen is always filled with the delightful wonders of Spring.

Playing the Game of Evony

2009-11-28T09:19:00.000-08:00

Several months ago I started playing an internet computer game called Evony, and I must say, for a time it was quite addictive, comsuming much of my time. Because I do not read code, I can only guess as to how it works. Of the many ways to play the game, I have found the main feature is, monitors discretion. Like a telephone operator, a game monitor is an overseer with the power to help or hinder by changing the parameters of the game, with the goal being to get non-paying players to open an account in order by gaming coins.
Evony may be a ruse for gathering information on individuals as well as piggy backing internet access for other uses, of course, that is only my personal speculation.

Evidence

2009-10-10T08:53:00.000-07:00

Guess we all know who wares the pants in Captain Aye's family.
An everyday american hero, a friend and neighbor, a family man dressed in casual attire, and yet ready to step-up-to-the-plate when need.
Read about the weekend exploites of this reluctant but extremely good looking caped crusader. Here

Elegant Sheep Moth

2009-09-20T11:07:00.000-07:00

While visiting my friends Doug and June Olberding, Doug pointed to a most beautiful Lepidoptera (the insect order of butterflys and moths) sitting on a sun bleached fence rail in their garden. At first glance, I thought it was a butterfly because of the colour and shape. On looking closer, I noted the feather fan shaped antennae and slightly thicker and fuzzy body. Butterflys are mostly brightly coloured, have thin smooth body shapes with round knobs at the end of their antennae. Moths have a tendency to be dull in their colouration, not so for the elegant sheep moth.
The latin name Hemileuca eglanterina has a nice ring when spoken outloud. This moth looks very much like a brightly coloured butterfly with such dramatic eye catching colours, I was surprised that I had never seen the species before. The photo I found to go with this post really doesn't do eglanterina justice. Here
After my wonderful visit with my friends, both of whom are retired and yet remain busy in their fields of interest. I drove home to do some entomology (the study of bugs and insects) research of the area where I live in Washington State. The thrill of seeing such a beautiful creature named hemileuca eglanterina is truly a blessing, as is the blessing of having interesting friends like Doug and June Olberding.

A Chance To Live

2009-08-18T16:53:00.000-07:00

I know... two more mouths to feed, but I gotta try my best to feed them, and if they live, I'll set them free...on the otherside of the river. :)

Their eyes are not open yet and they seem to sleep more than the baby blue birds I raised several years ago. The little guys even kinda churp. I don't know nothing about raisin' baby field mice.

The next day or two should tell me if they're going to make it. I sure hope so.

...spirit must have a sense of humor, the mouse on my computer started acting up while writing this post...

I'm gonna name them, Winking and Blinking, the Nodie Brothers from Miss Joey's Little Shop of Magic and Mystery. I have to ask myself if this nursing job will cast a shaddow my reputation as a cold hearted, knife toten, bad ass. Oh by-the-way, baby mice stink, so it's a good thing I have some material left from braiding sweetgrass.

Hairy Mygalomorphs/Grammostola rosa

2009-08-10T11:35:00.000-07:00

My new furry friend is named Lollipop. He's a good boy and ate his meal for today, a juicy grasshopper. After sinking his fangs into his food, he tucked it under one of his front legs and held it like a lunch bag. I was so proud of my little guy.
Good job, good job,
Good job, good job,
You know you did a good job, good job, good job.

Some times people fear things they don't understand, or they may have beliefs that need adjusting just a tad.
It is true that my friend Lollipop has a mean looking set of fangs and knows how to use them, but he's really quite gentle.
Just in case tho, I think I'll offer him another grasshopper tomorrow. He's rather lively this evening...dancing the tarantella around the kitchen. That boy really knows how to shake-a-leg, or two, or four, or more.
If you're not afraid, check out the below website for some interesting facts on tarantula husbandry.
http://tarantulas.tropica.ru/en/node/570#Bite

American Forests on the Auction Block

2009-06-20T08:30:00.000-07:00

I'm working on a story about the terrorism of foreign owned corporate and capitulating U.S. government workers who have been planning to spray poisons on healthy forests. Most people don't know just how much of our nation's forestland is in the hands of foreign owned multi layered corporate companies.
Getting the information out to the public on what they are planning is the first step in save our Nations Forests from money hungry loggers and ranchers who want more grassland to feed cows.
I may be a nobody when it comes to speaking out as to what I see and hear, but I have to try. The planned spraying of poisons on large tracks of our nation's public and private forests for whatever reasons, (weed control, insect control, etc.) should not be in the hands of foreign owned corporations whose motivation and interests are short and long term (logging and beef production) capital gains.

If our country is to survive the buying of U.S. American forest property by rich foreign interest groups and individuals whose only concerns are profit and greed, our elected officials in Olympia and Washington D.C. had better get on-the-ball and make some policy changes if they want their children and future generation of children to have the opportunity to drink clean water and walk in our Nation's Forests. A foreign managed tree farm is not a forest.

The Lilacs of April

2009-06-14T07:00:00.000-07:00

After surviving my first winter of twenty-below-zero weather in the mountains of Arcadia, it was the lilacs of April that eased my sorrow. A wild and over-grown stand grew along the fence of an old miners cabin. Built on a hill top in the nineteen twenties, it was the cheapest property in town at the time.
Spring was slow in arriving. My will to stay alive grew as I watched the many months of snow and ice melt day-by-day. A young neighbor said the town reminded her of the movie, "Dawn of the Dead". Maybe she was correct and we were the only two people not among the living dead. I think my friend was sent to help me fight the gloom-and-doom of apathy with her youthful vitality, caring nature, and love of life.
Two years later I was still holding on. I lost the cabin and moved to a cheap trailer park where I was the only resident. With not much to do other than seek truth and knowledge, the library became my home-away-from-home. There I met a most unusual teacher clothed in velvet lilac, the captain of a ship. I fought with all that was in me to stay alive, each day looking for some small thing to be happy about, needing only the smallest of hope to hold on to. I know somebody has already written, "It was the best of times, it was the worst of times." and yet it was a time, when my world stood still.
What happened to me that spring is the stuff science fiction horror stories are made of. Now my focus is to keep what sanity that was left to me, and to be grateful for my strength of character to survive in this world. And yes, I will always love, the Lilacs of April.

Summer Rain Makers

2009-06-11T07:22:00.000-07:00

Cool and Breezy,

That's my early Summer style.

Rain makers over head,

Bring it on...no worries,

I'm free.

Ancient mountain smiles,

With blanket of green,

Wild flowers at my feet.

Bring it on...ever changing,

I'm free.

High on nature's beauty,

Growing to touch the sky,

Bright rivers flow to the sea,

Retain, reflect, remember me,

I'm free.

Graceful from the gloom,

My destiny the gift,

Who I am, a treasure.

I'm freedom's heart and soul,

Waving from a lonely pole.

Corporate Carnival Companies

2009-06-04T08:58:00.000-07:00

Competent competition to survive,

For the furture, smart saving,

Protect,

Sparing ground and grove.

Clean water must flow,

Wild row believable,

Trust achievable,

Wings above in prayer.

Wilderness in corporate snare,

Net a trap undercover,

Jaws of man's greedy hunger.

Stealing water, mining sand,

Covenat eye's on golden trees.

Chief muckety-muck with ball point pin,

Signing papers, stealing native land.

Lady Justice sword in hand,

Lifting blindfold to stop and think,

Mother's blood flowing down mountain sink.

The scales of life tip, "women join the fight".

Fewer have the time to live.

Kindercare, where is mother grizzly bear?

For her childern tears.

Many men knowing are sowing,

Seeds of poison discontent,

Regament of fallen leaves.

In outer space the jamming,

Thoughtful junk falling to Earth.

Native myth of slammin fish,

Way upstream to freedom's thirst.

http://www.seattlepi.com/specials/mining/27129_juniors13.shtml

http://www.seattlepi.com/specials/mining/27324_jewel14.shtml

Native brave hearts say, let them sport hunt all the want, sell them high-fee big game tags. The Sasquatch and supernatural angry spirits here don't take kindly to greedy big wigs. Let them walk in the borderland's sacred forest if they have the courage to look death in the face.

When the wind blows, their nights will be filled with fear. Killing for fun, money, and excitement has a cold shadowing tag that drips in red, sweet with revenge. Best to play it safe, learn to walk in peace, hunt and shoot with a camera.

http://www.natural-resources.wsu.edu/research/bear-center/

http://www.nwf.org/cats/catsWest.cfm

http://www.conservationnw.org/wildlife-habitat/canada-lynx

http://wdfw.wa.gov/recovery.htm

http://seattletimes.nwsource.com/html/localnews/2004431717_websalmontreaty.html

http://wdfw.wa.gov/factshts/baldeagle.htm

Global Corporate Crimes/Leeching the U.S.

2009-06-03T17:26:00.000-07:00

Name a country and fish, see what you find.

http://patagonia-under-siege.blogspot.com/2007/12/double-threat-of-cyanide-leach-mining.html
Baiting the local hook.
http://seattle.bizjournals.com/seattle/stories/2008/12/29/focus3.html
Just a little over-the-limit drain water... self regulatory... self testing (Testing dirty water for what? I would like to see that report.)
http://www.methowvalleynews.com/story.php?id=1450
Know the U.S. Law
http://www.epa.gov/EPA-WASTE/2005/October/Day-25/f21267.htm
SUMMARY: Section 120(c) of the Comprehensive Environmental Response, Compensation, and Liability Act of 1980 (CERCLA), as amended by the Superfund Amendments and Reauthorization Act of 1986 (SARA), requires the Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) to establish a Federal Agency Hazardous Waste Compliance Docket. The docket is to contain certain information about Federal facilities that manage hazardous waste or from which hazardous substances have been or may be released. (As defined by CERCLA section 101(22), a release is any spilling, leaking, pumping, pouring, emitting, emptying, discharging, injecting, escaping, leaching, dumping, or disposing into the environment.) CERCLA requires that the docket be updated every six months, as new facilities are reported to EPA by Federal agencies. The following list identifies the Federal facilities to be included in this twenty-first update of the docket and includes facilities not previously listed on the docket and reported to EPA since the last update of the docket, 69 FR 75951, December 20, 2004, which was current as of September 13, 2004. SARA, as amended by the Defense Authorization Act of 1997, specifies that, for each Federal facility that is included on the docket during an update, evaluation shall be completed in accordance with a reasonable schedule. Such site evaluation activities will help determine whether the Federal facility should be included on the National Priorities List (NPL) and will provide EPA and the public with valuable information about the facility. In addition to the list of additions to the docket, this notice includes a section that comprises revisions (that is, corrections and deletions) of the previous docket list. This update contains 3 additions and 12 deletions since the previous update, as well as numerous other corrections to the docket list. At the time of publication of this notice, the new total number of Federal facilities listed on the docket is 2,282.

Check the Aerial Map..."Fish Hachery Road"
http://iaspub.epa.gov/enviro/fii_query_dtl.disp_program_facility?pgm_sys_id_in=WAD988471967&pgm_sys_acrnm_in=RCRAINFO
Formerly owned by a Federal agency(U.S. Forest Service) and now privately owned.
Who sold what to whom?
http://www.epa.gov/EPA-WASTE/1995/April/Day-11/pr-1.html
As explained in the preamble to the original docket (53 F.R. 4280), the docket does not include the following categories of facilities (note, however, that any of these types of facilities may, when appropriate, be listed on the NPL): • Facilities formerly owned by a Federal agency and now privately owned will not be listed on the docket. However, facilities that are now owned by another Federal agency will remain on the docket and the responsibility for conducting PAs and SIs will rest with the current owner. • SQG that have never produced more than 1,000 kg of hazardous waste in any single month and that have not reported releases under CERCLA section 103 or other hazardous waste activities under RCRA section 3016 will not be listed on the docket. • Facilities that are solely transporters, as reported under RCRA section 3010, will not be listed on the docket.
The current millsite debate arises on the heels of a recent battle in the long war
over the 1872 Mining Law governing mining on federal lands, which has evolved into
a stalemate between the law's critics and supporters. Earlier this year, the Interior
Department's decision on millsite acreage led to the Administration's denial (March,
1999) of an operating plan for the Crown Jewel Mine in Washington on the grounds
that the plan exceeded the lode-claim to millsite ratio. Opponents of the mine also
feared that the site would leach chemicals. Congress subsequently enacted a law (the
1999 Emergency Supplemental Appropriations Act, P.L. 106-31) to direct that
millsites and acreage for the Crown Jewel mining operation not be limited, that its
plan of operation be approved, and that other patent applications and plans of
operation for milling submitted prior to the law be given permits. (For more
information on the millsite debate and related issues, see CRS Report RL30310, The
Mining Law Millsite Debate.)
http://www.epa.gov/EPA-IMPACT/2004/April/Day-02/i7433.htm
How much was paid for what and to whom?
http://www.epa-echo.gov/echo/help_all_programs.html#facility_characteristics
Still fishing.
http://www.commodityonline.com/commodity-stocks/Hecla-Mining-sued-by-EPA-on-Water-Act-2009-05-31-18251-3-1.html
Who owns What, and Where?
Call it sand and gravel?
http://oaspub.epa.gov/enviro/fii_master.fii_retrieve?county_name=ferry&state_code=WA&all_programs=YES&program_search=1&report=1&page_no=1&output_sql_switch=TRUE&database_type=PCS
As a side note, first thy cut all the trees down, then they dig and leave a big mess and call it progress.

Memorial Day at the Track

2009-05-25T07:56:00.000-07:00

Some of the Nation's political leaders put their heads together and decided that this year's Memorial Day Weekend festivities should include a Blast-from-the-Past event. A big "Thanks" to the National Guard for the used equipment donation.
Sad to say, President Obama was unable to attend because of security reasons. Press reporters ask the President if he had any comments. "I'm sure the event was real crowd pleaser. I plan to watch the taped video as soon as I get the chance" Obama looked bright-eyed and bushy-tailed after doing several laps in the White House pool. "We must remember that our Nation was built on Super Stock Car Racing and that has to change. The upcoming Tank Derby Days should be even more exciting. Small towns across the Country are wanting more bang for their money these days." Obama refused to comment on the rumor that his family and friends were scalping tickets. "Now is the time to hop to it, I've got work to do." he said with a toothy grin, "Have a happy holiday."

Fire Alarm/No Battries Required

2009-05-19T18:14:00.000-07:00

Keeping up with the latest in innovative technology is high on my list of priorities.
My friend Willow has a rare sense of humor that never fails to make me laugh. When the clouds are gray as a passing sad mood. I never know what awaits me as I open one of her emails, and so, I thought I would share her fast-and-easy scientific fire alarm.
This device really works!
Although not currently approved by the Underwriters Laboratories for standard fire safety. We are hoping her new "hoppen poppen" fire alarm system will soon become more than just corny fad for the ultra rich.

Kermit's Comeback

2009-05-18T22:30:00.000-07:00

"Ooh, I bet you're wondering how I knew about your plans to make me blue... heard it through the grape vine... so Miss Piggy back in town... Kurmit, she's not the only bogtrotten dame in the world. You've got to pull yourself together."

Some Things Have No Price Tag

2009-05-04T07:13:00.000-07:00

Several days ago I was outside practicing my swing by whacking pine cones with me nine iron. Looking down the meadow valley I could see smoke bellowing up over the mountains. My first thought was, "I need a rake, this nine iron ain't doing a proper job of cleaning up the yard."

My neighbor Linda, who is a forest biologist said, "They're probably doing a controlled burn, and it got away from them."

I had been Googling satellite views of the area the night

before and had planed to go exploring up there for information on a story I'm working on. The next morning Sarah was whining to go for a drive (she loves to go exploring) so I grabbed the camera and we drove into town for supplies: coffee, half and half, brown sugar, tobacco, dog biscuits, and of course any news on the fire. We stopped by my friends Peter and Joann's for a short visit and I mentioned the fact that I didn't have a rake. While in the kitchen having coffee with Joann, Peter, dear man that he is, promptly found an old rake head and wielded a long length of pipe to it for a handle. He even sprayed painted it red! Dang! Am I blessed or what?

Driving home I decided to take a side road and check out how the "controlled burn" was coming along. Driving up the mountain I stopped to talk with a Forest Service crew. I introduced myself to Ben, a local who lives in Republic. He looked a little worried, but was very polite and answered all my questions.

It's a good feeling to know my countries forest are in the care of people like Ben. He's not the know-it-all college type with experience that only comes from books. I'm sure he, and others who work for the Forest Service take a lot of flack and judgemental criticism about the work they do.

Sarah and I drove home over the mountain and through the fire area. It wasn't as bad as I thought it was going to be. In fact, as control burns go, I would say, "Good Job" Ben, and those who are the guardians of our National Forests, "Thank You!"

As a side note, I did have to stop several times to pick up discarded trash left by people who have no respect for the natural beauty of our Mountains. The back of my pickup is full of: soda cans, beer cans, plastic bottles, glass bottles, etc. I know the Forest Service crews are not hired to do "Maid Service", neither am I. So remember to clean up your own shit that you bring to our mountain home, other wise your children will never be able to enjoy the beauty of this country. There are forces here that don't take kindly to human garbage and disrespect of nature. Yes, there are guardians that only locals are aware of. The kind of things most people only read about and hear stories of. So please, think twice before carelessly tossing that empty can, bottle, or plastic container...or well...lets just say, in these mountains of, big EYES, big EARS, and BIG TEETH of the mythical Sasquatches, werewolves, ghosts and spirits, and a horde of other terrifying beings to frightful to mention, litter bugs are sometimes never seen again. Burp!

Monkey Mind the Lock

2009-04-16T08:40:00.000-07:00

With a rainbow of colour to choose from.

1984 a key to the future?

Johnna's Bead Work

2009-04-12T08:24:00.000-07:00

This is a sample of the bead work my friend Johnna does. I know the photo isn't the best, but her beading is. She also makes the best beer. I am blessed to have such a good friends as Johnna and Lou.

On a warm Summer's afternoon at the ranch, to sit on the porch with my friends while the cattle dogs keep a watchful eye and a several cats snooze, to look out on the breath taking view of the mountain with dozens horses and the longhorns grazing peacefully and share a few homemade brews while the barbecue waifs the mouth watering smell of roast chicken. "It don't get any better than that." as my friend Peter would say. (Peter smokes the best salmon I've ever tasted.) So I'm bragging, you would too. Good friends, good conversation, good food, and Johnna's home brew... Yahoo!

Guano for Sale

2009-04-08T10:23:00.000-07:00

It wasn't easy being different than the rest of the kids at school. Most of our friends had parents who gave them money. My brother David and me had to be creative in earning our spending money because our parents couldn't give us what they didn't have. We would come up with all kinds of ideas on how to make money and have fun at it too. One of our favorite entrepreneurial adventures was exploring caves for bat guano. Exploring caves is called spelunking. How did we earn money spelunking?
We would gather all the bat shit we could find, scoop it up in gunny sacks, and sell it for fertilizer to a little old Italian man who lived down the street.
"I buya alla the guano you bringa me." he would say, and so he did. He had the best garden in the neighborhood. Heck, he had the best garden in the whole town. He would say to us, "You smart bambanos, you worka hard, you makea your parents proud." Sad to say I don't remember his name after fifty years, but I do remember his dark tan face, his sparkling eyes, and the way he always rolled up the sleeves of his clean white shirt just like my daddy did. David and I would take him a gunny sack full of guano and he would share with us the bounty of what he grew in his garden, plus a few bucks for spending money. Now that I look back on those times, I guess my brother and me wasn't as nearly as poor as we thought we were.

Janell Cannon's book, Stellaluna is a wonderful story about trying to fit in when you're just a little different than your friends. http://www.google.com/search?sourceid=navclient&aq=s5&oq=Stellalu&ie=UTF-8&rlz=1T4GWYE_enUS248US286&q=stellaluna+summary

http://www.superkids.com/aweb/pages/reviews/e_read2/stella/merge.shtml

Being a fruit bat may not be easy, because if you're different, you may have to try a little harder than most.

Are Foreign Banks Raping America?

2009-04-07T04:25:00.000-07:00

Is the United States of America just another piece of ass for the corporate big boys?
Forewarned is Forearmed

http://www.pbs.org/moyers/journal/blog/2009/04/william_k_black_on_the_prompt.html
http://www.house.gov/house/Constitution/Constitution.html

http://www.countercurrents.org/gatto141008.htm

Momma WhoDo's Interview

2009-04-02T11:24:00.000-07:00

Reporter Carry Crum from the Washington Post interviews Momma WhoDo Juju Bean at her castle fortress.

Momma: Being an Island Queen isn't as easy as it looks. Keeping an eye on me people is hard work.

Reporter: Is it true you had a relationship with Groucho Marks?

Momma: Where in the hell do you think he got the idea to smoke cigars and tell jokes?

Reporter: What are your plans for this week?

Momma: Well I sure as hell ain't going to the beach. Say, your kinda cute.

Reporter: Do you always smoke such big blunts?

Momma: Only when I'm working.

Reporter: Is it true you have an army of Zombies?

Momma: Where in the hell did you hear that? I run a legitimate operation.

Reporter: What do you think about the new U.S. tax on tobacco?

Momma: For lands sake, that was just a little April Fools Day joke me minions cooked up. I can't help it if people are stupid.

Reporter: Thanks for the interview Momma Who Do.

Momma: Any time cutie pie. I hear voodoo drumming, it time to dance.

Crunching Numbers

2009-03-31T09:12:00.000-07:00

Clicking and clacking,
With wings a flapping,
Battered-
In hot oil,
Fried to a,
Savery golden brown.

In some parts of the world,
Markets daily fare.
Insects are,
Like potato chips,
Chrispy-
Chunchy-
Snacks.

Grubs squirm, humm hoppers,
Picking teeth and choppers,
With toasted ortho- claw,
Food,
Crawled from sea.

Odanàta,
Mantòdea,
Blattàriea run and hide.
Others,
Take it in stride.
Numbers grow,
And so the dough,
Humm!
Food for that empty feeling.

http://www.insects.org/entophiles/index.html

Pithy Pulp Fiction from the 1950's

2009-03-29T20:08:00.000-07:00

Will the redhead bombshell win her position as top banana?

http://gunsinthegutters.blogspot.com/2007/06/it-rhymes-with-lust.html

Home Brew

2009-03-27T09:18:00.000-07:00

The Pod People

2009-03-23T10:37:00.000-07:00

Turning and turning,
Round and round,
Up and down,
The economic spin.
Where manikins play with dolls,
Flying high and feel low.
Spoon fed from digital tube,
A daily dose of crap,
Spewed from high above.
In the market locker,
Raw meat hangs from hooks.
Hungry greedy eyes, with-
Chicken chumming buckets,
Bait and switch, Buzzz suckers,
Watching to jump in,
The feeding frenzy on the floor.
Crooky cookey, chippy keys,
Many banking on the fall.
Fuck the smut idea,
Don't you think at all?
Plane and simple,
No puzzles please.
Fast bites drawing blood,
Under darkness cover,
Obsequiousness fade then,
Abrazos(hugs)the curve with cash.
Round and round,
Up and down
The economic spin,
Keeping it simple.
Hal-luci-nation,
Changeing au handshake,
To the kiss of death.
Painted faces,
Nip and tuck,
Piching caching,
Richer than the mass.
Pod people high,
The t-urning.
Demons and Angels
Underground earning,
My trust in love, and play.
Diving for the deep.
On the wheel of trading day.

Watching the Box

2009-03-16T06:49:00.000-07:00

What is Love?

Dreams sent on wings,

Above food for what,

A thing called time.

Low landing alone,

On two legs still standing.

Many hearts singing,

Beating drums,

Empty time dreaming.

Writing,

Reading,

Watching,

Passing,

Full the cup of life.

Emotions in the Park

2009-03-15T09:06:00.000-07:00

This photo by Diane Arbus sums up the pent-up emotions possible when life's problems seem a little unusual, or you've been cooped up in a cabin all winter and are anxious to get outside and play.

With Spring right around the corner, and much appreciated warmer weather, I'm looking forward to an explosion of blooming flowers when the snow finally melts. It's been a long Winter here in the mountains.

Stopped by my friend Aye's blog

http://ayesrandomravings.blogspot.com/, seems he's having his share of puzzling starter problems. I'm confident he'll have the situation fixed and running smoothly without popping a gasket, or pulling the pin.

Crossing yo Teez, Dotting yo iz

2009-03-09T11:13:00.000-07:00

Argot-A distinctive way of writing or speaking... a unique vocabulary used by a particular class, profession, or social group.

Faux simplicity,

Pruned!

Is three enough?

Is six to many?

Reality!

Club members,

Address the ball.

Keep yo head high!

See the hook,

Dump fee,

Smack on the green,

Rolling, rolling, rolling...

Plop!

In the cup.

"Eats shoots and leaves."

Crossing your Tee's

Persistent Perseverance Suited

2009-03-01T09:13:00.000-08:00

While the Witches of Wüstland sat in council in a dark tent, Tortu of the Chelonia clan quietly listened from her perch atop a large rock outside. A single tear dropped from her eye to quickly evaporate in the desert heat. Tortu had learned not to shed many tears of precious moisture on her emotions in the forsaken wasteland of the southern regions. She tapped her claws on the bolder, thinking in rhythm as she listened to malicious rumors spueing from the evil witch Diadema. Yawning and torquing her neck forward to hear better, Tortu vowed to make Diadema pay for her lies.

Overhead in the turquoise coloured sky, white clouds moved slowly in the hot breeze. Two eagles of Haliaeetus cried out in agreement with Tortu's whispered vow. "Thank you my high flying friends."she said, "Your view point is always welcome." And again turned her head to hear better. Tortu could hear laughter in the tent where the witches sat in a circle around a pit of steaming hot rocks.

The evil witch Diadema had stopped talking, and now the brave mother named LittleThunder began to speak. "North, from the land of Fangrala in the forest of the Roux Ga Roux a message has come to me. Time and distance has no meaning in that forest. It is a place near to the spirit world where all calls are local." Waving her hand in a right-hand circle around the sacred stones glowing scarlet in the dark, LittleThunder smiled, and tossed her long hair braid from her shoulder playfully. "Now we will sing a song of healing for those brave hearts that are heavy with the responsibility of guardianship."

Tiny Iktome sat near the door across from LittleThunder as she sang. Iktome's many eyes and hairy legs danced as she dangled from a strong thread of spiderweb. Because of jealousy, Diadema reached out to kill tiny Iktome as she danced. LittleThunder grabbing Diadema's hand saying, "Here we respect life. Iktome dances for joy at our songs, let her dance in safety. You must not harm her. Do you understand me?" Wicked Diadema quickly pulled back her hand in fear of the power in Little Thunder's strong voice. All the council witches joined in as LittleThunder again began to sing the healing song.

Outside, Tortu sitting on her rock smiled as she listened. She could hear the small voice of Diadema join in the singing. Now Diadema's heart also began to heal form the jealousy she had carried, for she was beginning to learn from her many witch sisters. Tiny Iktome danced and danced, bringing much joy to those who watched. Above in the sky, the eagles of Haliaeetus soared. Their high pitched whistling crys brought a feeling of freedom to all those who were honored to hear them.

Typing with Style/Bedazzling Keyboarding

2009-02-26T09:24:00.000-08:00

Is your day at the office getting kinda dull?
Are your fingers itchn' for something new?
Are you wrists achn' for energy?

Typing can be fun with these handcuffs. Sexy!

Showm' who's BOSS in the office.

Spring Forcast

2009-02-25T05:25:00.000-08:00

She could hear the dogs yapping as sled crested a low ridge, fat flakes of snow fell in swirls blurring visibility. The wind cutting through the back of her parka felt like sharp knives. Not enough time to head for the treeline and hide. He was following her snowshoe tracks. The baby strapped at her breast whimpered, awakened by her quickening heartbeat and the smell of fear.

"Aho Mady. You need a ride to town?" His voice smooth and thick, like the oil in big metal pipeline she was following.

"My milk is drying up, I need to get some formula for the baby."

Her heart raced and she could feel cold beads of sweat run down her arm pits.

"You should have let me know Mady, I would have saved you the trip." Taking off a heavy leather mitten, his callused hand swiped at the wet ice that hung in trailing crystals from his mustache and beard. "Mady, it's dangerous to leave the cabin this time of year. Grizzles are coming out of hibernation, you should know that? Why didn't you take a rifle?"

"I wanted to travel fast and be back before nightfall. I was going to ask someone in town to give me a ride back to the cabin." Her lower jaw quivering as she spoke. Trying to keep her voice under control, she smiled not looking into the mans eyes. The dogs now snapping at each other and barking loudly, they jerked in their harness causing the sled to lunge several feet forward.

"Hold!" he yelled loudly.

The underlying quality of emotion in his voice sent uncontrollable shivers through the young woman. The baby's crying muffled inside the heavy down parka increased as she knelt to remove her snowshoes and climb carefully into the dog sled.

The snow had stop by the time the sled team reached the outskirts of the village. Someone was cussing, pulling on a snowmobile's starter cord for the umpteenth time. Idling smoothly, a small single engine plane sat on short newly plowed airstrip. Two uniform men with rifles began walking toward the quonset hut where the dog sled had just stopped. Patting the woman's shoulder roughly, the man leaned forward and ask, "Did you know the mail plane was coming in today?"

Mady shaking her head no, smiled in relief.

The Arrow of Washeshu

2009-02-23T07:00:00.000-08:00

With her arms crossed tightly across her chest, Ualaxy shivered in a sudden rush of goose bumps. Her hair tingling, she said. "Something is coming this way."

"What is it you are feeling? You look as if..." The Loup Garou looking at the girl with is head tilted, twitched his nose, his big ears rotated as if listening intensely.

Whoosh... thump! Something had just slammed into the small cabins door. A quivering twanging sound, a vibration sending the Loup Garou to jump from his chair and rush to the door."

"Ohooo!" he said, and looked over his shoulder to see Ualaxy's reaction.

Ualaxy rocked back-and-forth slowly with her eyes closed.

"You are more important than I realised." said the shaking wolf.

Outside the cabin the singing of many wolfs filled the air.

"Okey dokey. We both must be brave hearted. Are you afraid?" he ask?

Ualaxy nodded her head answering yes.

"Are you brave enough to continue?"

Ualaxy nodded her head yes."

"Brave girl, I will call you, 'Brave Girl of My People." The wolfs eyes glowed in the lamp light and many tears filled his eyes. He smiled, looking at the girl with new respect.

"Are you just going to stand looking like a woozie, or are you going to open the door?"

The Loup Garou wolf took a deep breath, his nose sniffing the door up-and-down, and from side-to-side. Ualaxy heard him whisper something under his breath as he opened the door.

"Ahwooo!" he said. "It is a message sent from the high desert clan of the Washoe-Washeshu. Ahhh, from the lake of Ku-ya-pa. On your travels to this cabin, did you once stop by a strange lake?"

Ualaxy nodded her head yes.

"Umm. It seems you have a message from the Mothers of the Lake." With a shaking paw, the wolf carefully removed a strange arrow from the cabin's door. "Big medicine, this message." and walked to the small round table. He slowly placed the arrow on the table. His large tale twitched in excitement.

"Message? I see no message." said Ualaxy looking at the arrow on the table. "It just looks like an arrow to me. Where is the message?"

"I can see my job of teaching you is not going to be as easy as I first thought."

"Easy! You want easy?"

"All right now listen to me. We must read the arrow together." said the wolf, his voice now calm with a hint of kindness that only wolves possess. "There is a plant that grows in the southwest region of the western desert. The people of the Blackpool Kapern have destroyed much of the land where it grows wild." The Loup Garou's eyes searched the cabin as he stood close to the young girl. "Did you find a leather pouch here in the cabin?"

"Yes." said the girl.

"Please, will you bring it to me?"

Ualaxy stood up and walked into the small cabins other room where she slept. Under her bed of many skins, she reached for a small leather bag she had found along with the lamp and book. The bag was covered with many small beautiful glass beads that had been sewn into the leather. She returned to the living room and placed the pouch on the table in front of the wolf.

"Thank you." said the wolf. "Hump... big medicine, Please sit down and we will began."

Ualaxy gracefully sat down. Her hand slightly shaking.

"Little Brave Girl, you show big courage. The clans of my people have made a good choice in giving you such gifts. " And again the wolves eyes filled with tears.

"Ya ya, so now what do we do now?"

"We prepare ourselves to read the message of the arrow."

Sitting on a small table next to the cabin's window was a shell from Queen's Bay of the great sea to the west of Blue Bird River.

"Please, hand me that sea shell."

Ualaxy reached from her chair to the small table and handed the sea shell to the the Loup Garou. Carefully opening the leather pouch, he removed several dried leaves from the desert plant, and placed them in the sea shell.

"How did you know what was in the pouch?" ask the young girl.

"We call it intuition in your language, it too is a gift from the spirit world." said the wolf with a big smile showing his many white teeth. From the wood stove he removed glowing ember and placed in in the shell from the great mother sea. Ribbons of white smoke curled up from the shell as he placed it on the table. "Now only truth will be spoken between us. The Witches of Wüstland, the People of Washoe-Washeshu, and many clans will hear our words. We must choose our words wisely."

"I'm afraid." said Ualaxy. The air in the cabin now smelled clean with the odor of the white smoke that curled around them.

The wolf smiled. "Apparently you have been adopted by many clans because of your bravery. The Queen of Little Thunder Sea has tested you and knows your spirit guides to be very brave and yet full of fun. She will help you over come your fear. Excitement and fearful emotions feel very similar. Relax and have faith you are protected. Now, shall we read the messages of the arrow?"

Remember Paris

2009-02-22T09:15:00.000-08:00

It was in April when I first met you. True love never dies. I remember the way you smiled as I sat down for a coffee in that little cafe in Paris. The night sky sparkling as bright as the street lamps along the boulevard, but it was your eye's that captured my heart. You were drinking an apéritif with your coffee, a Tia Maria wasn't it?

Remember our waiter, Alejandro Fernández, the foreign exchange student from Guadalajara?

He said, "Where I came from such nights are made for love." and he waved his hand in an arch across the starry sky and made me sit at your table, introducing us to one another as if he had always known someday we would meet. You were reading a book of my short stories, and when I reached in my breast pocket for my ink pen and wrote my name in your book, you looked shocked. We sat up all night talking, Alejandro supplying us with coffee and Tia Maria's. I still have that herringbone jacket, the pen I keep in a cigar box on my desk.

Whenever the night sky is aglow in starlight, and a sudden breeze kisses your cheek, remember, my love will always be with you.

Yo, Ray, Hand Me a Flashlight

2009-02-21T15:32:00.000-08:00

Ya gotta love your job.

If you can't get in the front door, try the back door.

The more you look for shit, the more you find it.

Can you spell COLONIC Therapist?
Hello! Is anybody in there?

And a quoit from Jack Kerouac, "There is universal substance which is divine substance because where else can it be?"

The Army of the Darkness

2009-02-21T00:35:00.000-08:00

The army of the Blackpool Kapern marched toward the polar arctic regions of Fangrala. The rank and file of each devil soldier being determond by its ability to distroy the native enviroment.

"We will rule the world of Fangrala and subjagate the barbaran animal tribes." Standing on a platform of ice, General Rex Gluteus Maximus dressed in black satanic satin and animal skins shouted to his army. His speech was clearly ment to invoke the passions of greed in his many demon warrors. Standing only five-foot-two, the Generals ghostly white fingers and long nails gripped the podium, is voice was loud and clear, and his drooling troops oggled him in the wonder of this magnificance. Lifting the rifle of Konyaku high in the air, General Rex Gluteus ended his speech with, "We will fight until all that free belongs to us, and all that is not free, we will steal." Roars of acceptance to the Generals speech echoed from the ice mountains that surrounded the demon army.

Standing on the ice stage to the left of the General's ontourage of bodyguards, stood the spy Ursus Wissenwert in demon disguise. She made mental notes of all that she heard and had seen. Showing little emotion at the General's forthright speech. She stood in the shadows, mind melding with the High Council of Vulpes. Her dangerous mission was to gather as much information as possible and return to northern regions of Fangrala.
"The threatening invasion of the demon army on the free migratory inhabitants of my planet must not succeed." she said through clenched teeth. She watched closely as the General and his body guards walk to several quonset huts made of rotting whale bones. The largest quonset hut used by Rex Gluteus Maximus as a command center and residence steamed with pitrid ordors. Maggots crawled over the remaining strips of rotting flesh that hung from the rib hut. Most foul of all was the hanging carcass of Ursus Wissenwert's friend, Ribbon Phobos. His mulilated body hung outside the hut as a trophy, a testament to Kapern Blackpool skill at killing innocence for the glory of riches. Ursus Wissenwert turned away from the crowd of demon soldiers and walked slowly away from the scene. The mind-link of the High Council of vulpes assuring her that the murder of Ribbon Phobos would not go unpunished.

Buffalo Chip Art

2009-02-18T10:14:00.000-08:00

Tech's have been known to make the strangest things. When feeling creative, they even acid-etch minature art work on computer chips. I'll bet you a nickel, collectors are buying and selling buffalo chips.

A Slice in Time

2009-02-16T17:38:00.000-08:00

“There are many evil forces at work in the Roux Ga Roux Forest that you know nothing about. This is the land of UFOs and Time Travelers.

I wasn’t always a werewolf you know.” The Loup Garou’s eyes, yellow wolf eyes, sparkled and glowed brightly in the light of the lamp.
“Please, I don’t want to get involved with what is going on outside. I’ve been through enough as it is. You have no idea of what I have seen, or what I’ve been through before finding this cabin.” The young girl bemoaned as she began cutting thin slices from a whole oven roast chicken that sat on the clean kitchen counter top. The faint sweet smell of rosemary and thyme mingled with yeasty odors of several fresh baked loafs of bread that also sat on the kitchen counter.

"My dear", said the wolf, "you are under the protection of many brave Fangrala warriors."

While in the process of preparing her unexpected visitor a rather large chicken sandwich. Ualaxy instinctively glanced at the mirror like reflection in the large kitchen knife she was using to slice the bread. When she held the knife at just the right angle, she could see over her shoulder. There, standing right behind her was a good-looking dark haired man. Lycanthrope! Ualaxy smiled now knowing the truth of it.
She turned quickly and walked into the living room. The wolf followed. Placing the carefully prepared sandwich on a small round table, she then poured two cups of apple cider from the crock pot sitting on the wood stove.
“Please sit down and enjoy your meal.”
“You don’t mind if I... wolf it down do you? Just kidding, I want to savor the flavors. Do you cook like this all the time?”

Showing a pearly rack of snow-white fangs, the Loup Garou grinned and went-to-town enjoying his carefully prepared food. He stopped several times to sip his cup of perfectly brewed hot cider. When finished, he smacked his lips in satisfaction and belched loudly. “So sorry.” he said, “I forgot myself there for a moment.”
Ualaxy laugh out loud. “No problem. I do the same thing when I’m alone.”
“Now shall we get started on translating that book you found?” he said.
“By all means.”

Placing the book on the table in front of the wolf, the girl then sat down.
“Ahem, this is a very ancient and valuable book of the Fangrala people. It is a book of exotic magic.”
“I could have told you that,” replied the girl.
The wolf raised one corner of his lip at the girl’s innocent, but stinging remark. He took a deep breath and continued. “This book must have come from the Pearl Mountains on the other side of the Blue Bird River. In those mountain are located many escape portals to different worlds.” The Loup Garou tapped a claw on the book. “I have seen many books of Fangrala, but never one of this value and quality. This book looks to be from the Royal Witches of the Wüstland Desert.”
“So what you’re saying is…” With her elbows planted firmly on the table while cradling her head in her hands, she sat pondering for several moments. “Ahem, the Royal Witches of Wüstland? Are they good royal witches, or bad royal witches?”
Again the wolf smiled. “A Royal Witch is a witch that has climbed to the highest summit in the Mountains, suffered the cruelest of evil’s hardships, looked death in the face, and survived the ordeal by spitting in the eye of Keres. They call it the Schmöker School of Life and Death, it's a very evil and secret society.”

"You didn't answer my question." she said rather sheepishly.

The wolf narrowed his eyes, twiched his long ears, wrinkled his nose and said, "Clever girl."

Outside, the wind began to blow and the snow shifted directions.

"Ahwooo... ahwooo... ahwooo..."

Ualaxy shivered at the mornful crys.

"My brothers and sisters are singing prayers for you." The wolf stood up quickly. "We must leave tonight."

"Are you nuts? leave for where? Why?"

"Magic is a foot. We must cross the Bluebird River and be on the otherside of the Pearl Mountains before midnight."

"Forgive me for sounding rude, but you must be crazy. How do you purpose we get there, fly?" Ualaxy sat back in her chair with her arms folded across her chest.

"Of course we're going to fly," said the wolf pointing to the old Oriental carpet on the cabin floor. "What do you think that's for?"

Blockhead Hans and a Pocket Full of Mud

2009-02-16T04:19:00.000-08:00

How it works.
You Turkeys!
Sounds like, "Gobble-gobble, gobble-gobble-gobble.
Looks like, "Gobble-gobble, gobble-gobble-gobble.
Step outside and read the signs, you have "no" choice. He/she/it.
Are you listening to z radio?
Iz z TV turned on?
Are you feeling Browzy?
Chain, chain, chain...anchor.
Don't think.
Don't comment.

Magic Good Luck Charms

2009-02-15T03:00:00.000-08:00

The photo shows some of the lovely Good Luck Fairy bracelets and earrings made by my friend Donna (Willo) who lives in Seattle.

Today I plan to take a few photos of the wonderful heart earrings Willo gifted to me, and maybe a few of my own Native and Fantasyland bracelets.

My friend Joanne is also creating some Delightful and Fun (necklaces) that I want to photograph.

I am very blessed to have such creative friends who are willing to share their knowledge of designing and making beautiful jewelery.

Happy Valentine's Day

2009-02-14T06:53:00.000-08:00

Happy Valentine's Day!

May your days be filled with the joy of love,

Warm bear hugs and sweet kisses.

The Dragon's Stone of Fangrala

2009-02-07T08:32:00.000-08:00

The Story Book is in the making.

The Land of Fangrula

2009-02-01T21:08:00.000-08:00

Haven't been drawing much in the past couple of years, so my technique of coming up with an acceptable map to go along with my story is kinda rough.

Paper bags, and old envelopes work well for paper. Wish I had a decent ink pin to work with...oh well, I'm grateful for the one I have. Sorry the scan didn't come out nice and crisp with detail. To apply water colours to some portions of the map, I used a flared wooden match for a paint brush. Of course the story and map is just a first draft. I know there are many mistakes, but that's the magic of blogging, wysiwyg.
Most of all, I had fun making the map, and hope to draw several more of better quality.
Here is a list of several places listed on the map...
Brave Heart Bay
Elbow Point
Queen's Bay
Ruby Shoe
Two Heart River
Blue Bird River
Running Horse Mountains
Little Thunder Sea
Pearl Mountains
The Pit of Hellos
The Forest of Roux-Ga-Roux
Olson Caribou, and Longhorn of the North.
Now all I have to do is continue on with the story.

The Magic Book

2009-02-01T06:22:00.000-08:00

The golden lock on the magic book looked simple enough. Ualaxy had ask, in a polite way, if the lamp would please shine, so she could study the mysterious writings in the book she held on her lap. "There must be a way for me to understand what is written here." she said as she opened the book.

It had taken her several days to figure out how to open the lock that protects the ancient manuscript. She had tried for hours, and was just about to give up, when she closed her eyes and ran her hand over the strange metal medallion in the shape of a dragon. The dragon's eyes began to glow in a ruby red light. Click! "Oh!" she said, "It opens by touch."

Outside the brightly lit cabin, snow fell in quiet flakes of soft white. Inside, the cabin was warm and cozy. Ualaxy opened the small wood stove door to put another log on the fire. "Maybe this is a book of fun and adventure." she said, "How will I ever learn to read it. I'm not smart like the others. If only I had a friend, a teacher to help me." Sitting cross-legged by the fire with the book in her lap and the lamp by her side, Ualaxy hung her head in her hands with her elbows on her knees. She pouted looking very forlorn and depressed.

Bam! Bam! Bam! The lamp flickered, and a rainbow pattern of colour began fill the small room. "Oh! What shall I do?" For a moment, fear sprang in to the young girl. Her mind raced thinking of all the horrored things she had seen while on the planet. Her heart pounded wildly, and she trembled not knowing what to do. "Do not fear. Fear cannot hurt you." she remembered her father saying, "You must face your fear in order to be strong, and achieve success."

"Who is there?" she said, struggled to regain her composure.

"Open the door child. It's cold out here, and I'm freezing." The voice sounded as if it were coming from high above the cabin.

"Who are you?" Ualaxy ask. She pushed her fear away and a feeling excitement began to take it's place.

"You'll never know unless you open the door" said the towering voice.

Placing the book on the beautiful Oriental carpet she had also found in the once abonaded cabin, the young girl rose to her feet. She ran a hand through her jet-black wavy locks, and opened the door. There on the door step stood a huge wolf in a long shaggy coat.

"Are you a talking werewolf ?" she ask.

"Why yes I am. Are you afraid of the Loup Garou people? I can change my appearance to something more suitable if it will make you more comfortable. Perhaps you would prefer a snow leopard, a panther, or a tiger?"

"Are you a good wolf, or a bad wolf?"

"My dear, that is a question that has been ask much to often, and to answer it would take hours, perhaps days. The wolf shook the snow from it's long coat as if he were a rotating fifty-five barrel drum. "I'm hungry and thirsty, and you did ask for a friend and teacher didn't you?"

"Oh! So you have come in answer to my query about the book?"

"No sweetheart, I was just in the neighbor hood, thought I would drop by and introduce myself."

Ualaxy smiled, and the wolf smiled too.

"Then by all means, please wipe those hairy big feet of yours and come in."

"Thank you."said the wolf and he stepped into the cabin's living room. He stood by the stove, his coat dripping from the remaining melting snow that he hadn't manged to shake off.

"May I offer you something to drink? What do werewolves like to drink?"

Again the wolf smiled, showing his large white teeth. "My, my, my, you really do have a lot to learn don't you? You know nothing of the "skinwalkers" that live in the Northern Regions?"

"Skinwalkers? No. I can't say that I've ever heard of a Skinwalker? I saw a Skywalker once in the history files. Of course, that was aboard the spaceship before it crash landed on this planet."

"Surely you're pulling my tail." said the werewolf.

"Why I wouldn't think of doing such a think." she said putting her hands on her hips and arching a brow. That wouldn't be a nice thing to do now would it?"

Outside, and not far up the hill in the thick forest howls erupted. "Ahwooo, Ahwooo." A coral of howls arose in various forms of harmony, a rather wild and scary, "Ahwooo." trailed off into the night.

"Pay no attention to that dog-faced pack of rabbit chasers." said the Loup Garou. "They're looking for a free meal. Have you been throwing table scraps out the window?"

Ualaxy sheepishly nodded her head yes and smiled. "I couldn't let the poor things starve."

"You are not afraid of the Roux-Ga-Roux Voodo Hoodoost Queens?" ask the shaggy wolf.

Ualaxy shook her head. "Of course not. What a silly question. Why? Where I come from, we put collars around their necks and keep them as pets. Haven't you ever heard of the Iditarod wolf sled races of the Arctic regions on Earth?" Franky Naidanac and the Akaslan teams are the fastest and the bravest of them all."

The wolfs yellow eyes became very wide at the thought. His lips snarled, showing all his big white fangs.

On the back of the stove sat a crock pot of spiced cider that made the room smell of apples and cinnamon. Ualaxy had found the ingredients in the cabins kitchen cabinets. The cabinets were stocked with many things she had never see before. She had been use to eating and drinking the prepackaged food in tubes of tasteless nourishment while on board the ship. Now she enjoyed preparing real food an drinks that appeared by some kind magic.

"Do wolves here drink mulled hot apple cider?'

"A cup of spiced apple cider sounds good to warm my bones. Thank you."

"I can make you a chicken sandwich if you like."

"Ahem, apple cider and a chicken sandwich?

"Ahwooos" continued outside in the snowy night.

"Make sure you never throw any chicken to that bunch," the wolf twitched his long ears and nodded his head sideways towards the window that looked on the forest, "or they'll be hanging around day-and-night looking for more."

Ualaxy picked up the lamp and went into the small kitchen to fix a chicken sandwich. The werewolf wagging its tail was right behind her.

The Crystal Cave

2009-01-26T09:58:00.000-08:00

Thirty-six had been contracted as crew members aboard the garbage scow and tow barge Interpret, only a handful remain alive. All the others were transmuted by the local life forms and then assimilated. Many exsanguated themselves, others walked away from the shelter of the ship to freeze to death in the subzero weather. Several of the crew members and myself found their frozen bodies while doing perimeter checks.
Why wouldn't they listen to me? I tried to warn them, but they wouldn't, or couldn't hear me, maybe they were just to far gone...lost in their minds. I heard the voices in my head, but blocked them out. Captain Kavne Olson was the first go. He began acting rather weired, as if always plugged in and talking to the ships computer, even tho he didn't ware a ear monitor. We all noticed when the horns...antlers started to erupt from both sides of his head. We joked about it and started called him, "Longhorn of North", and "Old Son Caribou", he didn't seem to care. And all the others? Similar things happened to them, one after another, they surrendered over to the ice planet and were transfigured in to different life forms. I watched in horror, not knowing at the time what to do, or how to help them. Captain Olson had done a remarkable job landing the garbage barge and he had tried his best to keep the crew safe from the arctic elements of the planets surface. I will always remember him as a hero.

I hope my journal entries will some day reach the hands of what's left of my family, so they will know what happened to me. My spirits are low, and I calculate my chances are slim-to-none of ever being rescued, in the mean time, it does make me feel better knowing that six of my friends and crew mates have a chance to make the outer rim of this planets star system. If their escape ship can make it to the rim, they may be picked up by an off-course merchant freighter, or even a military scouting vessel. At least they have a chance to reach home. Home. What a sweet word.
I can't say that I did not have knowledge of their mutiny and stealing of the escape pod. They were all officers, and I am a dime-a-dozen private with a low I.Q. No other ship would sign me on except the Interptet, and that was because I agreed to work for minim wages, and a chance to learn a trade. So who was I to interfere when they escaped. Six officers with a chance of survival, twenty-seven known dead, two missing and presumed dead, and me...not a very happy ending to what started out as a routine garbage transfer mission.

The wind has stopped howling, and so have those werewolf ghost things. The only sound is the tinging of the stove pipe which needs to be cleaned again. I have traveled down from the polar ice fields to the timber line, and am now holdup in a cabin that looks as if it may have been salvaged from an alien ship. Two observation windows look out on to a forest of mixed pine trees. Here the colour spectrum is different than on Earth. I have seen shades of colours, beautiful hues and tones that I have no words to describe. Many things have I paid close attention to while on this planet: anomalies of sounds, smells and even the taste of the food that substanes life. However, none of that really matters now. All scientific equipment used to measure such phenomena has been lost, left behind at the crash site. The science officers on board gathered as much data as they could.
I believe there is some kind of...what can I call it? Evil intelligence. At times it seems as if it is trying to take over my mind and body. The fact that it comes and goes is puzzling. I block it out by my will power alone. I think it has something to do with my genetic makeup. Both my parents were explorers of the off world space lanes. Their ship was lost in a meteor shower in the Orion sector. I was very young, yet still remember them. Once I had a image book with there pictures, a family album. It's to painful to look back now anyway. I hope they know how much I loved them, and I hope they can forgive me for not being smart, because the best job I could get was looked down on as worthless to most of the crew.
I did meet and shake hands with Mr. Vennie Verdi a couple of times. Mr. Verdi owns and operates the space garbage salvage franchise. His contracts reach just about as far as anybody has traveled in to space. He's a nice man, told me I should be proud of my work. "Doing the work nobody else will do shows character." he said. Maybe he says that to a lot of workers just to make them feel better about their jobs. He said, "Getting to the top of the heap may not be easy, but the view is great, and there's alot of money to be made in garbage." He should know, he is a very rich man.
Oh! I almost forgot to mention, I found an old book. It was tucked under a pile animal skins in the back of the cabin. I've been trying to decipher the language, but haven't made much progress so far. The maps and graphs are interesting. I wish I knew what the word "Tome" means. On the cover of the book is a strange metal medallion in the shape of a dragon. Some kind of green faceted gem stone is set in the dragons front claws, and it has small red stones for eyes. The books cover is made from a silver metal material. It's very sparkly when I hold the book up to the window light during the day, and strangest of all, it glows when this planets three sister moons rise at night.
I have no way of knowing how much time has passed sense I left the crash site and found this place. The compass, given to me by my father so long ago doesn't seem to work here, so I drove the land scout, until I found the cabin. Wow! No wonder my nick name is Lucky Ualaxy.
Guess I had better stop writing now. It must be getting colder, the small stove isn't putting out the heat it should and besides, I want to see if I can figure out some more of the writing in that old book.
One more thing, I just want to mention the lamp I use for light when it's dark. It too I found in the cabin under the animal skins that I now use for a bed. The lamp is very old and works by some kind of magic. Late one afternoon during a terrible snow storm, I was sitting by the fire wondering how it might work. In the dim light I said something like, "Please, I sure wish this old lamp worked, I could use some light to look over the writing in this book." I had the book sitting on my lap, and the lamp in my hands, and all of a sudden, the lamp started to glow with bright light. I said, "Thank You." I tried several nights after that and nothing happened. Now it works whenever I say, "Please", and "Thank You." It really is some kind of powerful magic.

Rambunctious Ransom

2009-01-25T08:43:00.000-08:00

Broken whisky bottle on the front step,
Little girl tripping out the door.
What was I, four?
I still carry the scar.
Another slice of life.

2009-01-21T11:05:00.000-08:00

Why do you touse at me,

My mixed blood family?

Gypsy nomad free,

That's why I fight.

Fear? You showed me fear.

I drove through the fear.

You showed me Heaven,

Then left me here to die again.

A game of pain, Life?

Keep your plowshear lie.

My roots are made of stone.

Clear water raft, dream rail,

I know the feel of thirst and hunger,

Pain.

Ave, my star of arrogance.

Recompense I cry.

Montana Wildlife and Parks

2009-01-15T07:40:00.000-08:00

Standing on the observation ramp at the rim of "Old Pucker" in Montana's little known "Backwater Biosphere Reserve" is young Heviner McLeash. He stands poised on the brink of a new discovery. Racked with emotional pain from the loss of his older girlfriends flame of fanning affections, Heviner McLeash inches a toe forward.
"Don't do it boy." said a high pitched voice from behind him. "Step back from edge. "Ya never know when "Old Pucker" there is gonna blow off some steam. Trust me boy, you don't want to be standing there when she lets loose."
"Who are you?" ask the young man.
"Ranger Symone. I'll tell you my last name, but first step away from the edge cuz you're liable loose your balance laughing and fall into that there pit. You do have a sense of humor don't you?"
"Sometimes life sucks." says the young man. His voice sounds cold, without a spark of emotion.
"Hell boy, you should be here in the Winter time if you're feeling a little blue. Yes sir, when Old Pucker freezes over it's a real tourist attraction. People from all over the world visit the park just to get a look at that old ice hole."

"My girlfriend says she doesn't love me, and wants to break-up."

"Oh Poo!" says ranger Simone.

"My girlfriend says I'm boring." Heviner turns slowly to look at the park ranger dressed in her crisp dark green uniform. He notices the chin strap of the Smokey-the-bear hat she is wearing is real tight, her cheeks are sooth as a baby's bottom, compressed as if she just had a face-lift by a over zealous South American plastic surgeon. Several strains of bright red hair play peek-a-boo from her loose fitting hat band. The young man smiles.

"You drink coffee? I have a thermos of espresso in the jeep over there." she nods toward a new vehicle parked off the dirt road on the gravel parking lot. "You look as if you could use a little pick-me-up."

"Ya, sure." he says, and walks with the ranger towards the jeep.

Papa's Work

2009-01-11T22:19:00.000-08:00

My father never owned a gun.

New Story

2009-01-06T12:33:00.000-08:00

When winter weather is blowing snow and ice outside, and the chores are done for the day, it's time to write about those who stand guard on the rim of space.

Royaléloxiss is the most dangerous planet in the Asperon system. Owned and operated by the Candreamn Corporation and its many subsidiary companies, it is a world run by heartless, greedy overseers, who squeeze life's blood, sweat, and tears of sorrow from it's bound-and-chained contracted company workers. Little is known of the planets deep mine workers. They work long hours for little pay, while company's big shots reap huge profits and live in opulence.
Few have escaped from the mining planet. Most die from exposure to toxins found in the mines and from the exported food supplies shipped in from Chinchow, a large planet also found in the Asperon planet system.
In the years following the sighting of a twin-tailed comet that passed Royaléloxiss, a legend began to spread of a super race of beings who promised to return and help the plight of those sick and down trodden company workers. Unknown to the Candreamn Corporation, secret communications had been delivered to a few humans who were strong enough to mind-link with the alien race. Many of those contacted went mad, their brains scrambled like green seuss eggs in a mixing bowl. Others cowered in timorous fear, mentally not being able to accept what was revealed, or imparted. Those few who were able to understand grew stronger mentally and physically, thus escaping the labor planet by means of cleverly built space ships. They became adept fighters for an independent and politically free society. Under the cloak of secrecy they worked, creating fantastic tools and weapons while on board their resilient and reliable space ships. The aliens kinntet mind-link to those enhanced few, although at times weakened due to the Candreamn Corporation's network of satellites circling high in Royaléloxiss atmosphere, could not be broken. Using alien knowledge of anomalys in time travel, the fighters minds and bodies soon became immune to Royaléloxiss deadly toxicity.
The story you now read is true. Names have been changed to protect those who
continue to fight for change in the Asperon system.
The distinguished fighting ship Gargoyle had been stranded just over the Rim of space in Asperon territory for what seemed like an eternity. Her cloaking shields, and heavy anti sonic cannons had been damaged in an all out battle with enemy forces. The Gargoyle obscure drift was now surrounded by a squadron of freight and fighting ships, all of whom passed supplies and replacement equipment to her crew members as they worked at a fervent pace to restore her to space travel and battle worthiness.
"The Captain of the lalaliberty seship Tar Baby wishes tooto speak toooto you Captain."
Captain Dusty Bönus lifts her welding mask long enough to shoot the stuttering crew member a wicked glance. Her green eyes glowed in the high overhead lighting.
"Who the cares what the Captain of the Tar Baby wants. Can't you see I'm busy?"
"Yes caacapCaptain, but this isn't a babattle situation, and I'mmm nananot risking my being skewered by a sharp saber like a shshshish kebab by Captain baba Momba."
"Fiddlesticks." said Captain Bönus as she lowered her mask and expertly ran a bead of melting metal along the decking plate of the ships ammunition loading ramp. Quickly she flipped up the viewing shield. "Captain B.B. Mamba!"
Nowhere the Rim was there a person of any species that had not heard of the fierce and honorable Captain B.B. Momba of the red dragon society. She had been schooled in the ancient arts of the road warriors, and was a tree world witch from childhood. Captured, tortured, and confined in situations that would have driven less noble prisoner insane, she always escaped, leavening behind a trail of dead bodys. She, many times out battled small armies of the corporate overlords by stealth cunning and formidable personal strength. Captain Mamba aristocratic name and brave exploits is what space frontier legends are made of. Standing just under five foot, with raven hair and eyes so dark as to drown most who dared look in them longer than a quick glance, Captain B.B. Momba strikes fear into the hearts of young and old alike, no matter what their station, or status in life might be.
"Holy Shit, Of all the Hell Hole quadrants in space to choose from, how in the hell did she know I was here?" said the now befuddled Captain Dusty Bönus. "What is she wearing?"
"Fafafafull babattle ddress."
"Oooo! Sabers, black velvet, red sash, cork knee-high boots?"
"Yes!" said the trembling lieutenant.

Winter Blooms

2009-01-01T08:22:00.000-08:00

When it's cold and gray outside, and even the falling snow doesn't seems to have much zeal or enthusiasm, my kitchen engenders the warmth and enjoyment of Spring.
I love to force Narcissus (Paperwhites) bulbs during the Winter months. They are easy to grow, reliable, and only take six weeks to bloom. I like to start a succession of potting bulbs every two or three weeks so my kitchen has a fresh supply of fragrant blooming flowers all Winter long.
If your budget is tight around the holidays, Winter flowers make great gifts. I like to think they add a dash of warmth to rekindle the smiles of friendship. To me, flowering paperwhites stand as a symbol that the cold and snow of Winter will all to soon turn to the warmer winds and rain of early Spring.
And for those few who take objection to the sweet scented aroma of Narcissus...Stay out of my kitchen! :)

Turkey Table Manners

2008-12-29T11:49:00.000-08:00

Oh my goodness, I should have known those tracks in the snow weren't deer tracks, but peeping gobblers. Their table manners may be somewhat uncooth, and they do leave a mess and tend to just walk away without so much as a thank you. Do you know very many people who fit the same discription?

A whole flock of them stopped by again this morning. After ravaged the picnic table, leaving nothing for the other birds, they flew off in a hurry when I let Sarah out.

It started snowing not so long ago. It's coming down rather thick and heavy so I guess I should restock the picnic table and bring in a large load of fire wood to last through tomorrow.

December's Dream Team

2008-12-28T15:17:00.000-08:00

Who's been peeking in my windows under the cover of night as I set at my desk writing? Look! They even left a trail of tracks in the snow to prove they were looking in my windows.
My four legged deer friends are always wondering about what I'm doing. Hay, it's good to know my friends care enough to keep an eye on me. I guess you could call them spy's, and yes, they are a little sneaky. Maybe curious is a better word for their behavior. Sometimes I worry about them, and want them to know I'm here to protect them so they can lead happy and healthy lives.
On Christmas night an unusual thing happened.
It was late in the evening and I was in the middle of a long conversation with a literary writer friend who lives in Baltimore. It was pitch black outside, and cold enough to freeze the boleadoras off a brass monkey. A vehicle slowly pulls to a stop out front next to my mailbox.
"Hold on a minute, I need to get my pistol." I said to my friend on the phone. "Somebody just pulled up out front."
I would tell you who it was stopping by to see me at such a late hour on Christmas, but you probably wouldn't believe me, so lets just say the person is friend of mine.
After explaining to my friend on the phone everything was okay, I hung up and proclaimed my joy at seeing my visiting friend. I usually don't get many visitors, and such a special visitor on Christmas night is always a sweet treat.
"You need my help?" I said, "Sure, I'll be happy to help you."
We worked together until the wee hours, stopping only once for several cups of espresso. I like mine with brown sugar and half & half.
Our task was not an easy one, and yet working together was a piece of cake. Because we had previous experience working together, we soon had the difficult situation under control.
Today my friend stopped by again with a present for me.
Now it just so happens that I've been wanting a coffee grinder, and sad to say, my coffee bean supply was running rather low. There is nothing like fresh ground beans to make a delightful cup of espresso on a cold winters morning to perk up ones spirit. My visitor's Christmas gift for me; a "new" Moulin Á Café (coffee grinder) and a bag of Sumatra Mandheling dark roast coffee. Yippee!
And in keeping with the spirit of giving, the next time I go into town, I'm going to stop by the feed store and pick up a bale of alfalfa and orchard mix hay, and maybe also bag of rolled oats to spread out on the picnic table for my four-legged late night team of friends. They enjoy stopping by to see me from time- to-time, and are always courious about my work. It's a comfort to know that even in the darkest hours, there are many loving eyes who are keeping watch so others may sleep in peace and safety. As friends, we keep an eye on each other you might say.
If you're a young hearted person who likes to make wishes on a far star during a cold winters night, please remember, wishes do come true if you work and ask the help of loving friends.

Driving Back to the Cabin

2008-12-21T21:46:00.000-08:00

Woo Hoo! The tempature today was in the single digets hovering around zero, and it snowed. Just look at that gray sky, Mother Nature's blanket to keep the heat from falling to dangerous levels.
Sarah and I drove to town! What? You think thats no big deal? Ask Sarah. She loves to ride shotgun in the truck. I wish we had a horse and sleigh, because it was a perfect day for a sleigh ride.
I think it's going to be another warm night. Tomorrow is clean the stove pipe time, AGAIN.

-20 Below and Snow

2008-12-20T09:47:00.000-08:00

After spending all day and a large part of the evening writing out a post, the program editor acts up. Bam! So much for machine programs. I'll try again later.
Hay God, if your up there somewhere and think your playing a little joke on me...UP YOURS!

Just in Time

2008-12-18T08:44:00.000-08:00

Adventure!

It really is beautiful here. I love the snow even though at times it can be hard work keeping warm.

Today I'll venture into town for supplies for myself and a friend who lives not far away.

Clowning Around With Planet Earth

2008-12-17T09:26:00.000-08:00

"Okey dokey pizza face, put your hands up. Higher! Reach for the stars, it's payback time. Which of you boozn' buffoons was laughing at my pink fuzzy pinafore? All you fat ass's now bend over and touch your toes, or take a zombie round between the eyes. Now reach for the stars. Now touch your toes again. Up, down. Up, down. Up, down."

"Keepm' busy Cheeta while I run a search on what these clowns have been up to. You boys better do what he says, Cheeta looks a little pissed off if you ask me, and he tends to have an itchy trigger finger."

Loud flatulent gas noises erupt as the clowns reach for the sky and bend to touch their toes.

"Ooh, peperoni and rotten' mushrooms! You nasty, nasty, boys. You're truly full of it. No wonder you're dressed in those over sized outfits." The monkey waves one hand back and forth to clear the air while still holding the automatic pistol in the other.

Marshall Elmo Hallberg and highway trooper Giuseppe Cheeta, cuff the fat arsed flatulent clowns and herd them into the back of a county police van.

Elmo shouts as the van drives away, "Don't worry boys, you'll be whipped into shape in no time, and I'll be keeping my eye on you when you return, so better mind your P's & Q's."

Giuseppe Cheetamozzi unzips his monkey suit. "I really dislike having to play the big ape part in these sting operations. I like the C.H.P. outfit better."

"You like to ware those polished motorcycle boots don't you?" Marshall Elmo laughs, "Stop by sometime soon, and I'll make you a cup of espresso with vanilla ice cream."

And so, as the afternoon light dims and snow falls gently on tall ciders , another days work is done. State Trooper Giuseppi Cheetamozzi and Marshall Elmo Hallberg have done their job of keeping the third planet from the sun safe from clowns who use, makeup, and sell drugs to children.

Bigfoot Country

2008-12-04T07:29:00.000-08:00

The warmth of Indian Summer pivots.
Now the grizzly wheather is here.
Mountain highlands ware a shawl of placid white.
Days of blue skys and radiant starry nights,
Slow the sojourn tempered tempo to largo.
Bigfoot tracks her way to Winter's hideaway.
Home awaits in fur shared shieling.

Taking a Bite Out

2008-11-20T01:35:00.000-08:00

"Woo Hoo" said Mr. Simpleton looking at his book, "You're blocked baby."
"Mr. Simpleton, are you afraid I'll intercept a van filled with contraband pink donuts?"
Simpleton scrached his spaceballs, belched, and ajusted his bandoleer.

Posh Porn and Blood Money

2008-11-11T10:48:00.000-08:00

"Driving this baby will make heads turn." says the salesman. His greedy eyes glare at the well dressed women. A fast tongue quickly moistens his dry lips before showing a pricey chiclet smile that cost him almost a years salary.
"She's ah real beauty isn't she?"
"Thanks, but save the spiel. I already have a newer model collecting dust in my garage. I'm here to see my uncle Nick Cucci.
"Mr. Cucci is your uncle?" The salesman's voice has a quiver in his high pitched voice, he quickly adjusts his classic vintage silk tie that matches his London taylored suit.
"What are you a parrot?" The lady takes a deep breath and pauses a moment. "Please go tell my uncle I'm here, and that I need to speak to him right away. Can you do that for me?"
"Yes, of course. He's in a meeting right now and ask not to be disturbed."
"What's your name?"
"Tony. Tony Giacamozzi."
"Haven't been here long have you Tony?" The woman runs her hand over the showroom car's rear fender, her red polished nails and high heel shoes are shade darker than the convertible roadster's flashy paint job.
"A couple of months." he said.
"You're cute Tony, and if you're smart, you'll run along and tell my uncle I'm here on family business.

Come On Get Happy

2008-11-06T03:21:00.000-08:00

Get ready! New possibilities are on the horizon. Things are looking up, and a new day is dawning for the United States of America.

A little hope can go a long way to encourage those who just need a chance to show what they can do.

The stage is set, on with song and dance of politics.

Do you have your ticket to the show?

Amaryllis For Winter Blooms

2008-11-03T12:45:00.000-08:00

When a blanket of white covers the ground, and it's oh so cold and gray outside, the large blooms of an Amaryllis will make a colourful statement to warm my kitchen.

Bushpilots Playing Chicken

2008-11-02T09:19:00.000-08:00

Ready to take a ride on the wild side? Grab your stick and push it forward all the way, then we'll see who pulls up first.

Quid Pro Quo/Trick or Treat

2008-10-31T05:50:00.000-07:00

Fresh cut mystery meat, where spiders crawl, so beware the dare of witches and Halloween. They only comes out tonight, and you may end up on the midnight menu. With evil murder on their minds, she knows who they shot and left for dead, a trick of revenge.
Creepy, crawly, squirming maggots wiggle their way to dinner, or they starve for a treat.
In the shadows stands Mayhem Manor. Thunder and lighting, high winds of the storm shake and rattle lofty windows. Dressed in black, she steps into the darkness of night. With lurking searching eyes, she stalks the killers, hungry for her own brand of justice.
It's a beautiful night in the neighborhood.

Back In Time

2008-10-30T08:08:00.000-07:00

Believe it or not, the outer covering on these old birds is canvas. Sitting behind the loud roaring propeller, wind whistling through the wires, and me wearing my uncle's WWI helmet.
Remembering.
Aerobatics!
The scariest, most frighting maneuver is called, "The Hammer." Pull the stick back and climb until the engine stalls. Everything is quiet except the pounding of your heart, then the plane slides down like an arrow coming down, only tail first, back-ass-wards as my mother would say. This is where you have to keeeeep your wits, or...ya make a big hole in the ground. Rolling over like a pigeon having a fun, the plane is still out of control until you restart the engine. Throttle out, throttle, throttle...the engine kicks over...thank the lucky stars! Slowly pulling back on the joy stick so as not to kill the engine again, you make a wide looping recovery, and it's smooth sailing until you decide it's time for another act of insanity.
I regret never being up in a glider, but my experience of flying a biplane is a treasure to remember. I still have the Thunderbird patch my uncle gave me, it's pinned to the sun visor in the truck. The helmet, I gave to a friend who has a military museum.
Like ÃÝË would say, Good Times!

The Carolina Cousin Connection

2008-10-29T04:45:00.000-07:00

"Margret honey, you know damn well daddy would have a hissy fit if he were to find out what you've been up-to."

"Papa is never gonna know unless you tell him. You say one word Leroy, and I swear, I will skin you myself and have your onerous hide tacked on that tree."

After waving a graceful arm over the porch railing towards General Breckenridge, an old historic front yard tree). Margret ripes off her gardening gloves and drops them on the white wicker table-- almost upsetting her Rosenthal porcelain coffee service. She kneels to retrieve a silver spoon that had bounced from the table to the porch's wide plank floor, her face red with pent up anger. When her eyes were level with her twenty-six-year-old younger brothers, who sat leaning forward in an antique rocker, Leroy Hastings smiled with a devilish grin.

"Temper, temper, dear sister, or I'll tell that old sawbones you seem to think so highly of, that you are not following his orders."

"Leroy, papa should have drowned you like a sack of kittens as soon as he found out you were not his son."

Leaning back in the wicker rocker, Leroy Hastings Clark laughed, his smile showing an expensive picket fence of peril whites. His pretty boy fresh from the shower clean looks and that smile usually got him what he wanted. Rocabar Hermes aftershave mingled in unseen ribbons of the cool October breeze, along with the smell of fresh coffee. Leroy closed his eyes to the breath taking eye candy of several blooming Amaryllis, as well as a half-dozen other flowering plants in hanging baskets that lined the estates rap-a-round porch. He had to admit, his sister's passion for flowers ran parallel with his own love of gardening.

"Maybe so dear sister." He said. "But you are the one in hot water, and I know how to save your sorry ass, so you better be nice to me."

"Leroy, I truly despise you!"

"I know you do darln'. Daddy always did like me best."

A look of seriousness fell over his handsome smile, as if it were a veil from an underpaid Arabian Nights exotic dancer. In a voice much older than his years, Leroy Hastings jerked a thumb for his older sister to sit.

"Now you listen to me, we haven't come all this way to loose what we have worked so hard for have we?"

"Work! Why you lazy good for nothing, chippy chasing, whisky drinking, worthless piece of white trash. You never lift a finger around here."

"Spitfire! That's the spirit. Old Hickory would be proud sister honey.

Gently picking up a fancy silver spoon, Leroy taps several times on a pretty rose pattern sugar bowl as if it were the bell to signal the end of round one in a boxing tournament.

Sidewalk Poets

2008-10-22T05:03:00.000-07:00

Under an Autumn sycamore tree,

Three friends share time together.

Warm hearts of passion's fervor,

With laughter, smiles, and adventure.

Loving their poet's vigor,

Sisters, my wealth of treasure.

Cedar Planter and Driftwood

2008-10-19T15:53:00.000-07:00

I was given a small round of cedar to split up as fire kindling, but it was to nice to burn, so I decided to make a potted plant stand instead. Cedar is wonderful wood to work with.
When I'm finished sanding the pieces, I'll apply tougue oil as a finish; it helps preserve the wood and brings out the colour.

Dancing To The Music

2008-10-18T08:07:00.000-07:00

The Lady with the red sash is my friend Jill Marie. She lives in an enchanted forest and raises Navajo sheep. She is a powerful woman, a teacher that nurtures, and protects all within her world. I am truly blessed that she calls me friend.

Concord Grape Jelly

2008-10-15T09:25:00.000-07:00

My friends Joann and Peter gave me a batch of Concord grapes from their arbor the other day. This morning I made grape jelly, or grape sauce for pancakes, depending however it turns out. Don't have any jars, so I just put the mixture in two stainless steel bowls, one for me and one for them, and that's not counting the spoonfulls I sampled. :)

It's mmm mmm GOOD!

The only drawback is my white kitchen wash cloth is now a beautiful colour purple. I like it too.

The Kettle River

2008-10-12T07:53:00.000-07:00

The nights are cold now, yesterday I finally got the stovepipe put back together and started a toasty fire. Today I'll ware warm cloths, head up to the ranch for more firewood, and help my friend Johnna pick the last of this years apples.

First, I need to take a short walk and collect some "river sage" and "fresh mint" as well as pick up several pieces of drift wood. I found so many interesting pieces on my last walk that I couldn't carry them all back to the cabin, so I set them on the high bank about where the tall tree is the right side of the of the photo.

On Friday I spent some time shaping, sanding, and linseed oiling one piece. My friend Peter who also works riverwood, gave me a bunch of much needed sandpaper when I showed him what I was working on.

I plan to take some photos of some of them... that is if some trigger happy hunter doesn't shoot me. I have a red sweater to wear, but no red, or orange coat...so it's, be cold and be safe, or say, "What the Hell" and wear my blue down jacket. It's a gray overcast morning, which is good because the cloud cover keeps the ground and air warmer.

I'll be glad when hunting season is over and all the hunters go home. I already miss watching the deer in the field in back of the cabin, they are staying in the forest, coming to the river at night to drink. Most hunters don't walk far from their cars and trucks, they had rather sit in a warn vehicle and shoot a buck in the alfalfa fields. One of my friends who has land on one of the creeks up towards Canada paints orange spots all over her wolfhound to keep him safe. I plan to leave Sarah home this morning, she is white with black spots, a Dalmatian that looks nothing like a deer. Still I'm not taking any chances even though she loves to walk with me along the river.

Wish me luck on this mornings walk!

Reel Spool Tables

2008-10-10T09:05:00.000-07:00

The line of ideas roll off what is possible.

Rounding every corner something new.

Turning cables, spools spin, the real deal.

Table top sets the stage,

Saving for the future race,

That was give away as waste.

Holding on to growing in light,

In comes old recycle of wood dark.

Sharing ideas of the future,

Thus your spinning top made new.

Rubber Boa

2008-10-09T08:38:00.000-07:00

Here are a few photos of the Rubber boa snake that I found in my cabin this Summer. Although I write stories that most people would call fiction, some things are based on facts.

http://www.rubberboas.com/content/about.html

Fossorial...can you digg it?

http://www.northwestherps.com/bottae.html

Crepuscular...active in the twilight.

In Another World

2008-10-05T11:21:00.000-07:00

Slowly pulling out her boot knife, she slipped it down between the wall and closet drawers, easily lifting the sparkling bobble from where it was wedged, and began softly humming a tune she had learned from her sister Jill Marie.

“There is treasure waiting for me,

There is treasure most can’t see.

There is treasure all a round,

What was once lost, is now found.”

Lifting a silver chain with a blue gemstone carved in the shape of a griffin, Jasmyn almost smiled. “This is very odd. I wonder what it is? It feels, it feels as if…” Suddenly, the built-in wardrobe seemed to move; actually it was sliding towards her. Quickly stepping back, a whiff of cool fresh air came from the opening in the panel wall.
“What the Hell?” she whispered.
Shinning the lamp into the darkness, a spiral staircase led down, down, down.
Picking up the kitten, again she gently placed it in the duffle bag and pulled the drawstrings tight, put on the black leather jacket she had found, and swung the considerable hefty bag over her shoulder. “It's time to go exploring, little one.”

She listened carefully for any of the tapping she had heard earlier. All she heard was the sound of the wind in the stairwell shaft. Still holding the chain and gemstone, she leaned against the cold outer brick wall and tucked the treasure trinket deep into one her thick pants pockets. Her calico passenger seemed nonresistant to her duffel bag confinement. Taking a quick mental inventory and without reservation, she darted down the spiraling steps with the supple fluidity of an animal.

She passed no doors, nor did she see any windows, the shaft was void of any light except for the small solar lamp Jasmyn kept focused on her boots and the descending stairs. The smell of the fresh air lifted her spirit even higher. From somewhere far below she heard the tapping she had heard earlier.

Then, suddenly from behind her, came a soft voice.

“Do not go down any further. Many who wish to kill you and what you carry, await below at the street level.”
Heart pounding in fear, Jasmyn spun around, bringing the pistol from shoulder holster to point into the face of a child.
“Who are you? How come I didn’t hear you behind me?” she demanded.
Without any fear or malice in her voice, the child answered, “Your weapon can not hurt me. I am not from your world. They know you are in the building, and are hunting for you.”
Quickly returning the antique 45 automatic to the shoulder holster, Jasmyn said, “Yah, I know about the police.”
“Oh no, not the police, they left hours ago while you were sleeping. You were smart to hide where you did. Not even the zombies would have looked for you there.” Dressed in a velvet robe with dark shoulder length hair, the dark eyed child put her finger to her lips, motioning for Jasmyn not to speak. She leaned in close and whispered, “They do not know about this secret stairwell. Follow me, I know a place where you will be safe.”
“Why in the hell should I trust you? Who are you anyway?” Jasmyn whispered back.
“I am from a different place. A magic place that makes the difference in time, the difference that makes the difference. Understand?”

“No!” said Jasmyn “How old are you?”
“Older than you can imagine, younger than you know. Please, we must go now. The evil ones will be sending out demons, and they are very nasty to deal with.”
Putting her hand on the brick wall, the wall began to shimmer with a pulsating glow of rainbow colours. “You must hold my hand, it is the only way you can step into my world.”
“Why should I trust you?” Jasmyn almost sneered, her voice as sharp as her boot knife.
With the heart of innocence, the little girl smiled back. “Because, I have traveled from another world to help you.”

From down below the tapping resumed, now much louder and with a quicking tempo . The metal staircase began to pulse with vibration. The brick wall swirling wider and faster in liquid colours.

Before Jasmyn could draw a breath to resist, the child pulled her through the shimmering brick wall.

Safe Hiding

2008-09-26T12:14:00.000-07:00

Jasmyn stuffed several wads of assorted clothing against the closed closet doors; fumbled in a side pocket of the duffel bag, fished out a folding solar light lamp, and punched the activation button. Cool white light flooded the once elegant walk-in closet. Noticing the condition of what remained, she guessed the building had once been a fortress of a local big wig, a food dealer for the area. The lower floors of the building were probably used as barracks for gang, or soldier warriors. Like any other clan organization, a soldier could if he or she were smart and good at doing their job, climb up through the lower ranks to live on different floors of the building. The higher the floor, the higher the rank in echelon, thus the top floors were reserved for the elite. The elite were those who knew how to play the game of staying alive.

The concept was hard for Jasymn to understand although her mother had come from such a clan. Where money and power ruled there was always the need to fight to keep what was owned, or fight and steal more, even if it caused others to suffer and die. Growing up in the Free North West, Jasymn learned early that barter and sharing was the key to her survival. It was her father’s teachings before his death that had kept her alive so far. “Find a need and fill it to the best of your ability.” he would say, “…and you will always have a place to live, and friends who love you. People who need people will always help you if you’re lucky.”

Opening the drawstrings of the duffel bag, the calico kitten sat for a moment licking her paw and cleaning one ear as if he had been casually napping. Jasymn fed him a 3cc syringe of protein and vitamins that had cost her more than she normally paid for her own food. There were six syringes remaining and they had to last until they reached the border crossing. She remembered the first dog she had rescued. Gritting her teeth she cussed, vowing to fight even harder to find and store the precious life saving drugs the rich took for granted. Her food supply was running low: four packets of dehydrated apples and pears, and the rest a various assortment of dehydrated vegetables she had bartered for.
Each sealed packet held the equivalent of five to six pieces of fresh fruit. Even the elite did not enjoy such good food. Knowing the truth of where most food came from, sent a shiver down her spine. "Predigested" had been printed on a label of food cans she had seen in a glass cases of a building called a store museum. No wonder the plagues of illness came to wipe out most of the Americas population. They were eating processed shit with tons of poisonous chemicals to mask the product sold as food. Officials before the plagues came were selfish, uncaring and heartless. The Body Snatchers were called hospitals. In the many years of plagues that occurred between 2188 to the present date, many people died asking for forgiveness from what they called, " the sins of the far-there." Jasmyn's teachers said man-his-story was evil. She wasn't sure if the stories her teachers had told her were true. The one thing she knew, her animal teachers never lied. They always told the truth, and for that she was grateful.

Quickly counting her blessings while munching on a dehydrated ripe pear, the girl opened her laptop, entered the code numbers for the secret under ground channel and typed in a progress report, giving her location as, "The Hot Zone Central California." The keyboard had been damaged so typing wasn’t easy. Struggling, she finished the report and returned the laptop to the duffel bag, then covered herself with a black leather jacket she found in the corner of the cedar closet.

Sleep fell like feathers from the sky, Jasmyn dreamed of laughter with her friends, riding mountain trails on her horse, Stanford Major. Dreams of good times, when living was easy, and all the gentle animals that were her spirit teachers met in green fields of the magic flowers of long ago California were real enough to refresh her.

A tap, tap, tap from somewhere in the wall woke the young girl. Tap, tap, tap then silence, tap, tap, tap tap, again silence, tap, tap, tap. She put her ear to the cedar panel while holding the kitten. Not being fully awake yet, Jasmyn listened carefully. Standing up she started running her hand up and down the wall panel feeling for vibrations. She starting in the corner and working her way to the center of the closet where built-in drawers and shelves blocked the back wall. Switching the solar lamp to high, she stooped low looking at the carpeted floor. There, on the right side of the closet, the carpet seemed to have barely visible markings as if something had been slid across it and had snagged several carpet fibers. Getting on her hands and knees, she looked closely at where the built-in drawers met the back of the cedar panel. She could smell the faint order of fresh air. Then she saw it. A flash, a sparkle reflected back from the light of the lamp. Something was tightly wedged behind the wooden draws and the wall.

Roof Hopscotching To Rotten Leftovers

2008-09-25T09:26:00.000-07:00

Sweeping her weight from side-to-side, young Jasmyn Sanchez scurried up the icy ladder in a swift motion spider crawl. Once on the bucking asphalt roof, she hunkered down behind a four-foot wall to catch her breath and think what her next move might be.
"That shooter on the roof across the street must be a rookie." she said, "and a very bad shot not to have hit me with so many rounds fired." She crab crawled with heavy duffel bag to the corner of the roof, then braced her back against the wet wall in the shadows. Quickly she lifted her boots from around her neck, pulling out the wool socks that were stuffed safely inside. Putting them on wasn’t easy with numb fingers. Her right hand fingers had been cramped so tight in a vice grip holding the Colt automatic, she had to pry them loose with her left hand. While lacing up one boot, and then the other, she began to feel the burning pin pricks of her feet and hands warming.

“Okay Francisco now what?” She wanted to check on the kitten, but already knew it was safe. Listening carefully, she noticed all the guns had ceased firing. SP squad units wouldn’t stop searching for her. The rain slowed to an icy drizzle, she stared into the dark night sky. Somewhere on the pitch black roof a generator kicked in, a window light flickered several times from the square block building that allowed access to the stairwell. The door was open.
In the distance came the faint throbbing of a flitter craft.

Running to the opposite side of the roof, she saw another fire escape. The lower roof of the adjacent building was a precarious jump. Scurrying down to the first turn about on the fire escape, she tossed the duffel bag to the other building then jumped. “Sorry about that sweetheart.” She said before slinging the bag over her shoulder once again. Running full out to the other side… there, just as before, was a fire escape and a lower roofed building. Four more times she repeated her hopscotch maneuver until she reached the tall building at the opposite end of the block. This time she jumped landing on narrow ledge that lead to a gridiron balcony with French doors. Pulling a balanced throwing knife from the human leather scabbard in her right boot, Jasmyn quickly lifted a pane of glass away from cracked and weathered woodwork.

The entrance was a piece of cake, as her brother would say. Cake! Jasmyn had never tasted cake in all her seventeen years. The old ones said their parents and grandparents had eaten cake. They said it made your teeth rot. Even if such a thing as cake really existed, who would want to eat cake if it made your teeth rot? “Thanks, but no cake for me.” She said, and slipped through the unlocked door just as the low flying flitter craft with yellow searchlight swept the building and passed overhead.

From her left boot she pulled a red filtered pin-light, replacing the knife to her right. Flexing her trigger finger several times, she pulled the 45 automatic from its shoulder holster. The room smelled rotten with decaying bodies and mildew. Stepping over the decomposing bodies she slipped several times in oozing viscous liquid. No one in their right mind would look for her in this room. The SP regiment boys wearing full combat gear were pussies when it came to facing death in the face. No, they would be combing the areas outside, thinking she would run for safety in the outskirts of the city. Laughing she opened a double door closet. Two bodies sat propped up against the back wall of the large ceder-lined closet. Setting the duffel bag down, she grabbed the pant leg of what looked to be a Catalina gang member, yeah, the tats were distinctive. The two-hundred-pound corpus was stiff and hard to move. The other dead weight was a woman dressed in black leather and fishnet stockings. When Jasmyn yanked on her foot, her head thumped like a ripe melon falling from a counter top, and arm and leg had been taken. Cannibals?

Ladder to Freedom

2008-09-23T03:44:00.000-07:00

Two shots and then a single shotgun blast, after that, all hell broke loose. One second after the first shot was fired Jasmyn lunged toward the desk grabbing the 45 automatic. Quickly stuffing the laptop into a military duffel bag sitting upright next to the un-slept-in bed. The kitten crouched and pounced on the bedspread, it’s ears flattened back against raised shoulders. Hurriedly, it too went into the duffel bag, mewing in protest as the drawstring was cinched tight.

“It will be all right little one. Someone has just saved our bacon, as momma would say.”

The rain had not stopped pouring down in over two weeks which wasn’t unusual for early-December, soon the snow would come and blanket California from the mountains to the now SP controlled coastline. She shivered and took a deep breath against the cold rain that drenched her as soon as she opened the window, the icy wind cutting like sharp knifes.

A hail of large caliber automatic machine gun fire ripped an arch pattern from the bottom to the top of the bolted steel door, Jasmyn observed just before she stepped through the hotel window and onto the fire escape. The alleyway for some reason was clear of any local government’s Special Forces Police goons. Still barefoot, she slung her boots around her neck, her best pair of heavy wool socks tucked safe inside the toes. While juggling the duffel bag over her shoulder another spray of bullets peppered the door, punching holes that looked like smoking poker chips. She had lost track of the number of rounds fired, but quickly calculated there must be at lest five, maybe six other shooters in the hallway, not counting the four she had see through the peephole. Two people were firing automatic machine guns. The police didn’t carry machine guns any more. Guns were worth their weight in gold during the first plague ten years earlier, most weapons had been confiscated, or stolen and then sold to rich countries who could afford the outrages prices. No, someone in an underground group was fighting the SP Police, and right now she was still alive and breathing thanks to them. Whoever was in the hallway shooting was giving her the chance to escape. Having a computer, a pistol, and a pet meant a trip to the work camps, or a bullet in the head for being a rebel to the Unified Western Regional Government. Jasmyn Mariana Francisco Sanchez had squeezed through some tight places before, dodging capture as nimble as the animals she had freed in the Green Zones to the North. She prayed this time would be no different.

Starting down the ramshackle fire escape, gunfire erupted below. She could only see the flashes of three barrels firing toward the alleyways entrance. Again she said a short prayer for their safety, and started climbing up toward the roof. If she could make it to the roof, of course she could make it. “Think positive.” She said out loud. Water came down in sheets of cold rain. Ice was beginning to form on the rungs of the metal ladder. “Get you sorry ass up on the roof Francisco.” She said gritted her teeth and wanting to cry. Red neon flashed, blinking from the hotel sign below. The electric humming buzzed like an old Frankenstein movie she had once seen.

The duffel bag felt like a ton, the shoulder strap dug deep in to her bones like the cold rain. Her foot slipped. “You want to die here. No! No! No! Not Here… Not like THIS.” Holding on with all her strength, she carefully felt for and found a rail with her numb toes just as sparks flashed next to right hand. A bullet ricochet, she felt the reverberations shake the cold steel she was gripping. The next bullet exploded into a brick, sending shards flying. She felt a warmth on her cheek and knew it was blood. Exhausted, she struggled with Herculean effort. Looking up, she stretched to grip the rail above. Hearing soft mewing from the duffel bag made her remember she was not alone. With bullets slamming into the wet bricks she continued to scale the slippery fire escape.

Passing Summer Days

2008-09-21T08:34:00.000-07:00

The pulling pulse of Summer,
Warm hazy afternoons,
Where blue skys drift,
In ribbons of scent.
Remember?
Sweet honey,
Breeze.
Cottonwoods along the river,
Leaves twist and shimmer,
Moving in rythemic motion.
Pitch in tune with,
Dance of pinecones's bough.
Devotion this musical mystique,
Strumming humm of joy,
Passing Summer days,
"And you My Lady..."

You Talking To Me Punk?

2008-09-17T16:29:00.000-07:00

This is my protector Sarah, an Angel sent to me from heaven. She is most loving and friendly, and yet very brave when it comes to defending me. She even puts up with her little brother Micky, the Irish wirehair fox terrier who thinks he is the boss. He has learned the hard way, when she gives him "that look" it usually means, "Mom! He's pushing my buttons again."

I no longer chain her up, nor does she ware a collar. She has earned her freedom as long as she doesn't chase deer. It was hard for her to understand that she doesn't own all the land around here to protect. I keep the truck door open during the day so she can sit in the passenger seat and pretend she on the road again. She loves to ride shotgun in the truck.

How Do You Like My Screen Door?

2008-09-16T14:43:00.000-07:00

What the hell! Those fancy french door curtains I saved did come in handy this Summer. The good news is, next year I can tack up another clean one. The brocade drapes I give away, they were to nice to get dirty.

I have another pile of wood like the one by my front door, only that one is stacked on pallets. Small rounds burn well in my stove and will last through the long Winter nights. It's no fun waking up to a cold house, and having to start a fire from scratch. Once the cold weather hits, the stove is pretty much going twenty-four-seven. I even clean the ashes with a fire going, using a large stainless steel restaurant mixing bowl, my welding gloves, and a wide plaster spatula.

I praying my Micky Boy recovers his health and stays with me through the Winter. He has been really sick, even puked on one of my language dictionaries...didn't need the dust jacket anyway.

I spoon feed him a gruel made of chicken stock and oatmeal, and let him drink all the slippery elm water he wants. He is a tough little guy and gets right back up when he falls over. He's comfortable and not in pain, and that for now is enough to make me happy. I think both of us, and Sarah too, have had a peaceful day, even the chainsaw worked well.

Being Real

2008-09-16T13:50:00.000-07:00

She Has an Ax!

2008-09-15T19:12:00.000-07:00

"Those casablanca fat cats are in for a big surprise if they think they can pussyfoot around in the dark."

Getting Ready

2008-09-13T07:30:00.000-07:00

Saturday, time to haul in more wood.

A big stack of wood gives peace of mind.

This is no time to skirt the issue, the work must be done before Winter weather sets in.

Kindness From a Friend

2008-09-12T04:36:00.000-07:00

A better friend than God, my Dog.

Oh, the years we spent together.

Through Spring days,

April's wind and rain.

"Just look at those muddy paws!"

Remember hot Summer days?

No park paths for us.

We cross open fields,

You running always just ahead.

We had a ball playing.

The falling leaves of Autumn.

So many colours raining,

And you running, so alive.

Chase the race of time,

Combing the woods, adventure.

Winter's cold, our foot prints,

Deep in mountain snow.

Hours spent by the fire,

Warm dreams of December.

I will always remember.

And the years went by,

Moments following each other.

My gratitude for your love,

A gift from above, in Spirit.

Honor, Faith, and Friendship.

And here we are again

My friend.

Night are getting cold,

And we both now old.

Again, you go before me.