Your regrets aren't what you did, But what you didn't do.
So I take every opportunity.
-Cameron Diaz
Tuesday
Little Lost Calf
Back in November 2006, I attended LPL's National Conference in San Diego. Tons of mutual fund and VA wholesalers were marketing their wares and passing out all kinds of free stuff! I have a variety of these grab-n-go's in my cuffice. By far, my most favorite five-finger toy is a noisemaker thingy that sounds like cow. It's a little cylander that you flip over and back, then it makes a moo-ing sound. Make sense? Oh good.
When I first got this little noise-maker, I didn't pay much attention to it. Then I went on a cattle drive, and my entire perspective changed. Upon returning from my cattle drive, I flipped my little mooing toy and realized it doesn't sound like a cow at all. It sounds like a calf, a sad lost little calf. Like the grey one that got separated from his mama. The one Turnip picked up and then changed his mind, and the calf ran back the opposite way. I cut the mama out from the rest of the herd and drove her back around the arena to reunite with her wayward calf. Eventually they found each other and all was well.
Sporadically I find that it is much too silent here among my fellow cube dwellers and I ignite my cowgirl flames with a flip of my wrist and the mournful mooing of a little lost calf. Memories of better days swirl through my mind and stoke a longing I didn't even know I had. I can't wait to get back to the ranch, saddle up my horse and ride the range, until the end of my days.
Cowgirl Up!
When I first got this little noise-maker, I didn't pay much attention to it. Then I went on a cattle drive, and my entire perspective changed. Upon returning from my cattle drive, I flipped my little mooing toy and realized it doesn't sound like a cow at all. It sounds like a calf, a sad lost little calf. Like the grey one that got separated from his mama. The one Turnip picked up and then changed his mind, and the calf ran back the opposite way. I cut the mama out from the rest of the herd and drove her back around the arena to reunite with her wayward calf. Eventually they found each other and all was well.
Sporadically I find that it is much too silent here among my fellow cube dwellers and I ignite my cowgirl flames with a flip of my wrist and the mournful mooing of a little lost calf. Memories of better days swirl through my mind and stoke a longing I didn't even know I had. I can't wait to get back to the ranch, saddle up my horse and ride the range, until the end of my days.
Cowgirl Up!
Monday
...Like a Woman
MAKE ME FEEL LIKE A WOMAN.....
On a transatlantic flight, a plane passes through a severe storm. The turbulence is awful, and things go from bad to worse when one wing is struck by lightning.
One woman in particular loses it. Screaming, she stands up in the front of the plane. "I'm too young to die," she wails. Then she yells, "Well, if I'm going to die, I want my last minutes on earth to be memorable! Is there anyone on this plane who can make me feel like a WOMAN?"
For a moment there is silence. Everyone has forgotten their own peril. They all stare, riveted, at the desperate woman in the front of the plane.
Then a cowboy from Oklahoma stands up in the rear of the plane. He is handsome: tall, well built, with dark brown hair and hazel eyes. He starts to walk slowly up the aisle, unbuttoning his shirt.
One button at a time........
No one moves..................
He removes his shirt................
Muscles ripple across his chest.......
She gasps....................
He whispers.................
"Iron this...then get me a beer."
On a transatlantic flight, a plane passes through a severe storm. The turbulence is awful, and things go from bad to worse when one wing is struck by lightning.
One woman in particular loses it. Screaming, she stands up in the front of the plane. "I'm too young to die," she wails. Then she yells, "Well, if I'm going to die, I want my last minutes on earth to be memorable! Is there anyone on this plane who can make me feel like a WOMAN?"
For a moment there is silence. Everyone has forgotten their own peril. They all stare, riveted, at the desperate woman in the front of the plane.
Then a cowboy from Oklahoma stands up in the rear of the plane. He is handsome: tall, well built, with dark brown hair and hazel eyes. He starts to walk slowly up the aisle, unbuttoning his shirt.
One button at a time........
No one moves..................
He removes his shirt................
Muscles ripple across his chest.......
She gasps....................
He whispers.................
"Iron this...then get me a beer."
Sunday
Another Day, Another $0.62
To all my faithful readers out there, I have not taken the last ship out of Saigon. I'm still around, and around, and around.
My recent life in a nutshell:
I like my new apartment
Journey's new lead singer is pretty dang awesome!! They still Rock!
I screamed myself hoarse on King's Dominion's stupendous roller coasters.
Never take directions from a cheap hotel's desk clerk at 1:30 in the morning. You'll end up in Baltimore. Not so fun.
Suspended registration is an arrestable offense in the District of Columbia. I found this out the hard way, but talked and girled my way out of it. A Thank You card is on it's way to a cute motorcycle cop with a good sense of humor.
The Lincoln Memorial is awe inspiring. Almost as powerful as the Vietnam Memorial. I am so grateful to be free.
Watermelon Spike is pretty good.
I got a new Flat panel LCD TV with a built in DVD player, a stereo tuner and 5.1 surround speakers, all for $80 bucks. Sweet!
I'm making my own curtains.
New ceiling fan in my bedroom!
I've learned that I'm a pretty impressive shot, even for a girl.
There is more artwork than walls. What to do, oh what to do?
I wonder if the kitties miss the backyard?
I have to go grocery shopping. My fridge looks like a poor bachelor's.
Tonite is pedicure night.
I have a very surprised look on my face in my new NC drivers license picture. It's a long story.
Back to work tomorrow. Yay?
My recent life in a nutshell:
I like my new apartment
Journey's new lead singer is pretty dang awesome!! They still Rock!
I screamed myself hoarse on King's Dominion's stupendous roller coasters.
Never take directions from a cheap hotel's desk clerk at 1:30 in the morning. You'll end up in Baltimore. Not so fun.
Suspended registration is an arrestable offense in the District of Columbia. I found this out the hard way, but talked and girled my way out of it. A Thank You card is on it's way to a cute motorcycle cop with a good sense of humor.
The Lincoln Memorial is awe inspiring. Almost as powerful as the Vietnam Memorial. I am so grateful to be free.
Watermelon Spike is pretty good.
I got a new Flat panel LCD TV with a built in DVD player, a stereo tuner and 5.1 surround speakers, all for $80 bucks. Sweet!
I'm making my own curtains.
New ceiling fan in my bedroom!
I've learned that I'm a pretty impressive shot, even for a girl.
There is more artwork than walls. What to do, oh what to do?
I wonder if the kitties miss the backyard?
I have to go grocery shopping. My fridge looks like a poor bachelor's.
Tonite is pedicure night.
I have a very surprised look on my face in my new NC drivers license picture. It's a long story.
Back to work tomorrow. Yay?
Friday
Monday
Friday
For Love of the Game
Winning at pool is a nice little prize, all in itself. There are no ribbons or trophies, not yet at least. Just that sense of accomplishment. I was pondering how many hours, days, months of my life have been spent in a pool hall. That compilation of time would be considerable if it were actually tallied. I have thought, at times, that it is rather odd to have spent so much time in a pool hall. As I was rolling this thought around in my mind, I came across the quote on my daily calendar:
Normal is in the eye of the beholder.
-Whoopi Goldberg
It is normal for me to be in a pool hall. It's where I feel comfortable and connected to the people around me. We all have commonality. I have made some lifelong friends and met amazing people in pool halls. There are characters and couples, amateurs and wanna-be pro's, serious and silly, but we all enjoy the game.
The game is a gift to me. A talent. I can look at colored balls on green felt and know exactly what needs to be done to make those little round colors disappear. Some have talents for art, singing, business, cooking, computer graphics, shooting, driving, teaching, scrapbooking, parenting, running, speaking or a myriad of other talents and gifts. One of my gifts is the ability and desire to play pool. Not your normal, everyday run of the mill gift, but a gift nonetheless. What an honor. It truly is a blessing to know that God choose me to have this gift. In the billions of people that have lived and will live on the earth, only a comparatively small handful have this gift.
Hmm. It truly is in the way you look at it, now isn't it?
Tuesday
Soft Breezes
It's late. I'm awake. Pondering. Random thoughts as the fan dries out my eyes. Does it really matter where I bank? How big of a ticket would I get if I got pulled over with my year old expired out of state registration?
Why is there such trash on TV these days? I just watched Tila Tequila get her heart broken by a girl who decided she would rather be with a guy. And this is quality, family entertainment folks. Why was I watching this you ask? It was in front of me on the treadmill. I kept trying to walk away, faster and faster, but was going nowhere. Like so many other things in life, the harder you try, the more you stay in the same place.
What are we gonna do with the kitten? Anyone want a cute little red haired kitten?
Who do I want to be? Do I even know? How do I find out? I thought I knew once, but I turned out to be wrong. Quite the learning experience, I assure you.
I really do enjoy listening to Christian music, it makes me smile. It is not lukewarm at all, despite opinions to the contrary.
I can't wait to see my mom this weekend. It's been almost 3 years since I saw her last. She'll finally get to meet her son in law.
Meditation is a wonderful thing. Moments of blissful silence, when you stop thinking and just be.
Prayer is when you talk, mediation is when you listen.
When jokes go sour, you just apologize and move on. No harm intended.
I've learned that apologizing first makes things much easier. Things such as moving on.
The Giver is a wonderful book about the importance of our memories, our feelings, our humanity. The world is in vivid color, all around us. We should not waste our precious time with our eyes and minds closed to what we could experience if we only allowed ourselves to see. Beauty is not in the eye of the beholder, beauty exists even when no one sees it. That's what makes it beautiful. When we are lucky enough to witness true beauty, it is because we chose to see what was already there, waiting.
Why is there such trash on TV these days? I just watched Tila Tequila get her heart broken by a girl who decided she would rather be with a guy. And this is quality, family entertainment folks. Why was I watching this you ask? It was in front of me on the treadmill. I kept trying to walk away, faster and faster, but was going nowhere. Like so many other things in life, the harder you try, the more you stay in the same place.
What are we gonna do with the kitten? Anyone want a cute little red haired kitten?
Who do I want to be? Do I even know? How do I find out? I thought I knew once, but I turned out to be wrong. Quite the learning experience, I assure you.
I really do enjoy listening to Christian music, it makes me smile. It is not lukewarm at all, despite opinions to the contrary.
I can't wait to see my mom this weekend. It's been almost 3 years since I saw her last. She'll finally get to meet her son in law.
Meditation is a wonderful thing. Moments of blissful silence, when you stop thinking and just be.
Prayer is when you talk, mediation is when you listen.
When jokes go sour, you just apologize and move on. No harm intended.
I've learned that apologizing first makes things much easier. Things such as moving on.
The Giver is a wonderful book about the importance of our memories, our feelings, our humanity. The world is in vivid color, all around us. We should not waste our precious time with our eyes and minds closed to what we could experience if we only allowed ourselves to see. Beauty is not in the eye of the beholder, beauty exists even when no one sees it. That's what makes it beautiful. When we are lucky enough to witness true beauty, it is because we chose to see what was already there, waiting.
Wednesday
Comic of the Day
Don't worry if you don't get it. It just means you're not a Star Wars nerd, like me.
But this is dang funny!
Tuesday
Saturday
CONDORMAN!!!
For my readers who are unfamiliar with the stunning marvel of early 80's Disney moviemaking found in Condorman, here is a quick synopsis:
The previous blurb was to bring into perspective my 4year old frame of mind. I wanted to be a superhero. I wanted to fly like Condorman and save the world from evil. Who doesn't? I acquired some yellow sunglasses to which my mother attached a yellow construction paper beak. I grabbed a yellow towel/cape and would fly around the house, singing "Condorman, da da da da da CONDORMAN!!"
Living in Idaho was quite a drive from Southern California where my maternal grandparents lived. I-15 runs from the sandy So Cal beaches, through cities, across deserts, over mountains, around high plains and low valleys. Heading north after acres and acres of lush farmland you reach St. Anthony, Idaho. A small town built around an even smaller sawmill.
My Grandparents had just driven up from San Diego to see their daughter (my mom) and their Grandkids (me included). As my Grandfather told us of their drive in great detail, I was busy entertaining my 4year old self by playing my favorite game of Condorman. I was 'flying' from the couch onto our old green velour bean bag. Launching myself off the couch at full tilt, flying through the air with the greatest of ease, and landing with a soft thump on the ever flattening styrofoam beaded bean bag, this was the pinnacle of good times.
As the story goes, which I have to include because I don't actually recall any of this happening, the story goes that my ever worrying mother told me to stop jumping, that I would hurt myself. Why do mothers say such things? The never ending stream of "Be careful, Don't run, Stop that, Don't put that in your mouth" which seem to flow from them as the mighty Mississippi. Do they truly believe that we will listen to and heed their warnings? Did you? I thought not. Moving on...
After this dire warning of Stop-or-Else bounced off me as a rubber ball would off hard concrete, I knew I had to make the ultimate in Condorman stunt moves. Moving as far back as I could, half the couch laid out in front of me as my runway, I spoke the words heard round the world..."Grandma watch!" I ran. As fast as my little legs would carry me, across the couch and launched myself into the air, arms spread in wonder and glory. I flew.
I flew with magnificence and grace. The air rushing through my hair, my house falling away below me, I flew up higher and higher into the upper levels of the atmosphere. Time did not touch me here, I was free. I was Condorman!
A large green velour mountain passed far below me, I paid it no mind. I was a superhero. I had wings and could choose my path in life. I could overcome all obstacles and bypass those things that stood in my way. Enemies, KGB double agents, oak roll top desks, super villains; all where mere playthings to me. Though danger may loom ahead, dark and impending, seemingly immovable, I did not deviate from my present course. I had a mission to accomplish, a world to save, I would overcome.
There are many different types and weights of wood. Balsa is one of the softest woods. Pine is another soft wood, able to be marked with a fingernail. Oak is considered a hardwood, as is Cherry and Maple. Just how hard is a hardwood? Hard enough to be used as flooring and all the punishment it will endure after being walked on for decades. Hard enough to hold the weight of building or smash a skull in. The latter is not something that most Grandmothers, worrisome mothers or 4 year old super heroes think much about. Can this oak desk really smash my skull in? Not a thought you have everyday, now is it? Not so much.
Here I am in St. Anthony, Idaho, my family catching up with each other after years of separation. I am, of course, still flying through the air. Evil stands before me, dark, oak and impenetrable. Using my superhero powers I will surely smash through this evil force and conquer my foes. With wings spread wide, I stare down my enemy and focus all my mind on the task speeding toward me. The moment arrives, it's do or die!
With a resounding THWACK! I bring down my enemy with a headbutt that his children will surely feel. In the shadows of consciousness I hear my mother and Grandmother cheering me on, screaming for my victory. My Grandfather wants to take me out to celebrate with a stalwart "Get the car." Bright lights and many people surround me as they revel in my conquering of the oak enemy. Victory is sweet.
17 stitches and much cleaning up of pooling blood later, I am brought home from the Emergency Room for the third time that year. The doctors must have suspected that my parents regularly threw oak roll top desks at me, but that was not that case. I was just a daredevil, and nothing stood in my way.
Now here's what really happened, I ran across the couch, dove for the bean bag, missed and hit the corner of the desk directly above my left eyebrow. One inch lower and I would have lost my left eye. I wonder if people would have called me One-Eyed Emily? That would be be a little bit awesome, actually. You know I would have worn a leopard print eye patch and told stories of how the pirates put out my eye with a hot poker, but I never told them where the buried treasure was!!...story for another day....
Considering that my forehead had been pretty well turned to mush by hardwood and inertia, the surgical attendant in our very small hospital did a spic-n-span job of sewing me up. You would not be able to see the scar above my eyebrow unless I pointed it out. Not too shabby for a doc stuck in north eastern Idaho. I am grateful for that doc's skill at putting me back together, could have been much worse. I'm grateful for the scar as well, a constant reminder of the price we all pay to fight evil and overcome that which stands in our way.
Moral of the story: Enemies come in many forms, and we all have to smash through our own. What's a few stitches among friends?
Accomplished comic book writer, with grandiose dreams of saving the world from evil through gadgets and heroism, is recruited by the CIA to help a beautiful KGB spy defect to the US. The comic book character is Condorman, whom the writer brings to life in himself with fancy gadgets and costumes with wings. You really have to see it for yourself, it's so cheesy it's great!
The previous blurb was to bring into perspective my 4year old frame of mind. I wanted to be a superhero. I wanted to fly like Condorman and save the world from evil. Who doesn't? I acquired some yellow sunglasses to which my mother attached a yellow construction paper beak. I grabbed a yellow towel/cape and would fly around the house, singing "Condorman, da da da da da CONDORMAN!!"
Living in Idaho was quite a drive from Southern California where my maternal grandparents lived. I-15 runs from the sandy So Cal beaches, through cities, across deserts, over mountains, around high plains and low valleys. Heading north after acres and acres of lush farmland you reach St. Anthony, Idaho. A small town built around an even smaller sawmill.
My Grandparents had just driven up from San Diego to see their daughter (my mom) and their Grandkids (me included). As my Grandfather told us of their drive in great detail, I was busy entertaining my 4year old self by playing my favorite game of Condorman. I was 'flying' from the couch onto our old green velour bean bag. Launching myself off the couch at full tilt, flying through the air with the greatest of ease, and landing with a soft thump on the ever flattening styrofoam beaded bean bag, this was the pinnacle of good times.
As the story goes, which I have to include because I don't actually recall any of this happening, the story goes that my ever worrying mother told me to stop jumping, that I would hurt myself. Why do mothers say such things? The never ending stream of "Be careful, Don't run, Stop that, Don't put that in your mouth" which seem to flow from them as the mighty Mississippi. Do they truly believe that we will listen to and heed their warnings? Did you? I thought not. Moving on...
After this dire warning of Stop-or-Else bounced off me as a rubber ball would off hard concrete, I knew I had to make the ultimate in Condorman stunt moves. Moving as far back as I could, half the couch laid out in front of me as my runway, I spoke the words heard round the world..."Grandma watch!" I ran. As fast as my little legs would carry me, across the couch and launched myself into the air, arms spread in wonder and glory. I flew.
I flew with magnificence and grace. The air rushing through my hair, my house falling away below me, I flew up higher and higher into the upper levels of the atmosphere. Time did not touch me here, I was free. I was Condorman!
A large green velour mountain passed far below me, I paid it no mind. I was a superhero. I had wings and could choose my path in life. I could overcome all obstacles and bypass those things that stood in my way. Enemies, KGB double agents, oak roll top desks, super villains; all where mere playthings to me. Though danger may loom ahead, dark and impending, seemingly immovable, I did not deviate from my present course. I had a mission to accomplish, a world to save, I would overcome.
There are many different types and weights of wood. Balsa is one of the softest woods. Pine is another soft wood, able to be marked with a fingernail. Oak is considered a hardwood, as is Cherry and Maple. Just how hard is a hardwood? Hard enough to be used as flooring and all the punishment it will endure after being walked on for decades. Hard enough to hold the weight of building or smash a skull in. The latter is not something that most Grandmothers, worrisome mothers or 4 year old super heroes think much about. Can this oak desk really smash my skull in? Not a thought you have everyday, now is it? Not so much.
Here I am in St. Anthony, Idaho, my family catching up with each other after years of separation. I am, of course, still flying through the air. Evil stands before me, dark, oak and impenetrable. Using my superhero powers I will surely smash through this evil force and conquer my foes. With wings spread wide, I stare down my enemy and focus all my mind on the task speeding toward me. The moment arrives, it's do or die!
With a resounding THWACK! I bring down my enemy with a headbutt that his children will surely feel. In the shadows of consciousness I hear my mother and Grandmother cheering me on, screaming for my victory. My Grandfather wants to take me out to celebrate with a stalwart "Get the car." Bright lights and many people surround me as they revel in my conquering of the oak enemy. Victory is sweet.
17 stitches and much cleaning up of pooling blood later, I am brought home from the Emergency Room for the third time that year. The doctors must have suspected that my parents regularly threw oak roll top desks at me, but that was not that case. I was just a daredevil, and nothing stood in my way.
Now here's what really happened, I ran across the couch, dove for the bean bag, missed and hit the corner of the desk directly above my left eyebrow. One inch lower and I would have lost my left eye. I wonder if people would have called me One-Eyed Emily? That would be be a little bit awesome, actually. You know I would have worn a leopard print eye patch and told stories of how the pirates put out my eye with a hot poker, but I never told them where the buried treasure was!!...story for another day....
Considering that my forehead had been pretty well turned to mush by hardwood and inertia, the surgical attendant in our very small hospital did a spic-n-span job of sewing me up. You would not be able to see the scar above my eyebrow unless I pointed it out. Not too shabby for a doc stuck in north eastern Idaho. I am grateful for that doc's skill at putting me back together, could have been much worse. I'm grateful for the scar as well, a constant reminder of the price we all pay to fight evil and overcome that which stands in our way.
Moral of the story: Enemies come in many forms, and we all have to smash through our own. What's a few stitches among friends?
Thursday
T-Shirt of the Day
I wish I was an egg laying, duck billed, beaver tailed, water-dwelling, super-hero mammal!
That's hot!
How to tell when you've ticked off a rocket scientist
A check sent to Verizon from an upset customer.
The amount is believed to be $533.82,
not that I could figure out this math, but whatever.
Tuesday
Stand Back Up
Words stolen from Sugarland
Go ahead and take your best shot,
Let 'er rip, give it all you've got
I'm laid out on the floor
But I've been here before
I may stumble, yeah I might fall
Only human aren't we all?
I might lose my way
But hear me when I say
I will stand back up
You'll know just the moment when I've had enough
Sometimes I'm afraid
And I don't feel that tough
But I'll stand back up
I've been beaten up and bruised
I've been kicked right off my shoes
Been down on my knees
More times than you'd believe
When the darkness tries to get me
There's a light that just won't let me
It might take my pride
And my tears may fill my eyes
But I'll stand back up
I've weathered all these storms
But I just turn them into wind, so I can fly
What don't kill you makes you stronger
When I take my last breath
That's when I'll just give up
So go ahead to take your best shot
Let 'er rip, give it all you've got
You might win this round
But you can't keep me down
'Cause I'll stand back up
And you'll know just the moment when I've had enough
Sometimes I'm afraid and I don't feel that tough
But I'll stand back up.
Go ahead and take your best shot,
Let 'er rip, give it all you've got
I'm laid out on the floor
But I've been here before
I may stumble, yeah I might fall
Only human aren't we all?
I might lose my way
But hear me when I say
I will stand back up
You'll know just the moment when I've had enough
Sometimes I'm afraid
And I don't feel that tough
But I'll stand back up
I've been beaten up and bruised
I've been kicked right off my shoes
Been down on my knees
More times than you'd believe
When the darkness tries to get me
There's a light that just won't let me
It might take my pride
And my tears may fill my eyes
But I'll stand back up
I've weathered all these storms
But I just turn them into wind, so I can fly
What don't kill you makes you stronger
When I take my last breath
That's when I'll just give up
So go ahead to take your best shot
Let 'er rip, give it all you've got
You might win this round
But you can't keep me down
'Cause I'll stand back up
And you'll know just the moment when I've had enough
Sometimes I'm afraid and I don't feel that tough
But I'll stand back up.
Sunday
Today Was a Good Day
...If you read this blog title and heard the rest of a rap song play out in your mind, alluding to an AK, you and I have something in common. If you have no idea what I'm talking about, good for you . You've probably never listened to gangster rap and therefore don't get it stuck in your head. Now back to our regularly scheduled broadcast...
Sundays always turn out to be good days. The reasons are obvious enough to those with eyes to see. Even in my past life, I noticed that Sundays had the calming effect of smoothing the edges off a grating week. The sun shines a bit warmer, the breeze a bit softer, the air a tad sweeter. Cotton candy clouds hang in the clear blue sky.
Sunday is a day of rest. I say this means a day of naps and reading, sharing a meal and not worrying about the dishes. Enjoying the cooling evening in my backyard, watching the kitties explore their world.
Sunday is church day. Refill our spent fuel tanks and share in the Spirit with those who are willing to understand. let go of the week and it's worries, ask for help in a new start.
Sunday is what we make of it. It is a day for us to set aside, to give back and receive in turn. I've always enjoyed Sundays, and pray I always will.
Sundays always turn out to be good days. The reasons are obvious enough to those with eyes to see. Even in my past life, I noticed that Sundays had the calming effect of smoothing the edges off a grating week. The sun shines a bit warmer, the breeze a bit softer, the air a tad sweeter. Cotton candy clouds hang in the clear blue sky.
Sunday is a day of rest. I say this means a day of naps and reading, sharing a meal and not worrying about the dishes. Enjoying the cooling evening in my backyard, watching the kitties explore their world.
Sunday is church day. Refill our spent fuel tanks and share in the Spirit with those who are willing to understand. let go of the week and it's worries, ask for help in a new start.
Sunday is what we make of it. It is a day for us to set aside, to give back and receive in turn. I've always enjoyed Sundays, and pray I always will.
Thursday
...As Powerful as the Sun
Few things exist in life as powerful as the sun. Though I feel its strength only after unthinkable distances and layers of filter, it stops my thoughts and takes my breath away.
Everyday a new masterpiece is painted across the sky for all to see. 
Each evening brings its own majesty. 
From endless sea to small pond, the sun shares its light with all.
The first sweet rays after a storm remind me that peace is on the horizon, waiting.
Daybreak and all its opportunies.
Wednesday
Is it Friday Yet?
Sitting in my cube
Pondering daily quotes and secret posts
Listening to nonsensical babble over cube walls
Mind wandering to wide open spaces
Unknown questions with questionable answers
Rants and raves assault my senses
Too much information, not enough fact
Wishing for the silence of rushing wind
Discovering that hard work has more meaningful definitions
Endless landscapes lead to ever expanding horizons
Quick trots and slow walks
Time stands still
Vacationing Wildlife
During my two very diverse and rather opposite vacations, I came across animals of every size, shape, color, species and scent imaginable. Here are a few of the closer encounters. I'll let you guess where each one calls home. 
"Come here, let me smell that camera"
"Come here, let me smell that camera"
Little lost calf.
Tree lizards came by for regular visits,
while the tree frogs sang us to sleep at night.
Ride, Sally, Ride!
This little crab tried so hard to hide behind that leaf.
Guess he was camera shy.
Norman
Sleepy girl.
Iguana's can live to be 100 years old. You can see the age in his skin and spikes,
but mostly in his "I'm too old for this" attitude.
"Just going for a little swim, mom. Geez..."
His name was Tiny.
I thought this bird was a statue, it kept so still and silent.
Always watching me.
The cat has better things to do than work.
$10,000 Reward for any Tourist who finds a Jackelope!
This Conch was still alive and crawled back inside
just before I snapped the picture. Camera shy.
This kitty cat was going after the dogs.
New style of Boot Scraper, on sale now at Sears!
Indiana Jones says the smaller the scorpion the more dangerous.
Wish I knew that before I got this close.
Little burro was best friends with the huge draft horse.
I always saw them hanging out together.
Odd couple.
I got to name this horse, Cheeks ;o)
And some believe there is no God.
This cow looks just like it's wearing a halter.
"If I could just get around this tree..."
Mama and a woolly baby
Horny toads sure do fit their name, don't they?
Pals
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