Weekly Photo Challenge: Beyond

For this weeks photo challenge Beyond I didn’t have to go much further than my porch. I snapped these shots of the boys as they drove through the field, a little faster with each pass until they were outside my comfort zone. Once they were on foot I put the camera away and left them to their explorations. I leave you with a little ditty summing up ‘Beyond’.

Beyond my lens, beyond the grins a young man’s confidence blooms

Beyond the tress, beyond the fence…  yonder mischief looms

Weekly Photo Challenge: Surprise

Surprise surprise surprise! The infamous words of Gomer Pyle  echo in my memory but to my own surprise they don’t annoy me like they did some forty years ago.  That is probably because I have matured just a little. I am no longer burdened with the need to be cool and now find myself longing for a simpler time, an era where trust and naivety could walk freely among crowds, if there ever was such a time. Maybe there was and it rests on a reel of black and white film stored somewhere in sunny California?

Or in a box of old photographs in Texas…

Or under a live oak tree with a tire swing…

Or maybe, just maybe in a little dog’s dreams of Christmas.

I wouldn’t be surprised if all of the above are true.

This weeks photo challenge is (you guessed it) SURPRISE.

Crazy Conversations (Enumerating Kin)

Cotton, peas, your friends, your seat, your nose… There are a lot of things you can pick. Family isn’t one of them. Disclaimer: Life is crazy, people are crazier and my family… well they get the crazy award if there is one. This is a work of ‘true fiction’ inspired by family. The names have been changed to protect the guilty. CAUTION: They cuss.
 
Enumerating Kin

Cousin Bill: We need to get together more. Somebody ought to plan a family reunion before all of us are gone.

Sue: Yes, someone should take charge and do that, not that you would go – you haven’t gone to any of the other ones.

Cousin Bill: I didn’t know there were any other ones.Front Porch & Family Photos

Sue: You say the same thing every time.

Betty: Don’t get on his ass. You ain’t been to many of `em yourself missy!

Sue: I wasn’t getting on his ass. If I was getting on his ass he would know it, trust me.

Cousin Bill: It kinda felt like you were gettin’ on my ass. Matter of fact I think you left a mark.

Sue: Poor baby, you want Betty to kiss it and make it all better.

Betty: I’m not kissin’ his hairy old butt.

Cousin Bill: It ain’t hairy. It’s smooth as a baby’s bottom. You wanna see?

Betty: No thank you.

Sue: I do.

Betty: You’re sick in the head girl if you want to look at his rear-end.

Sue: You looked at it so I guess you’re sick in the head too.

Betty: My lookin’ was an accident. I turned my head as soon as I could but I gotta tell you I still have nightmares about it.

Cousin Bill: Would somebody just plan the damn reunion already!

Sue: Betty you’re the oldest why don’t you start a list of paternal relatives and we’ll go from there.

Betty: What is paternal?

Sue: From the father’s side.

Betty: Oh that’s easy. Let’s see… there is Aunt Lou and Uncle Delbert-

Sue: They are from mother’s side of the family and they passed away twelve years ago.

Betty: So you want just the live ones?

Sue: I think the dead ones might have a problem making it to a family reunion.

Cousin Bill: I imagine they’re having their own reunion in heaven. God rest their souls. Sue would you get me another beer?

Betty: I’ve seen dead people at reunions.

Sue: Just make the list Betty we don’t have time for your ghost stories.

Cousin Bill: Lord knows her stories do go on. We’ll all be at that heavenly reunion by the time she finishes.

Betty: Why does it have to be just Daddy’s side? That’s plum rude.

Sue: Let’s work on one thing at a time. We can make a maternal list later.

Betty: What’s maternal? Never mind, I know the answer.

Sue: Good.

Betty: But I don’t think there will be many people show up at a reunion for pregnant women.

Sue: Dadgum you’re sharp as a tack. So how many have you got on the list so far?

Betty: Ummm. What ever happened to Jim and all of those girls? And Jerry and his wife – none of them had any boys did they?

Cousin Bill: Nope. No males to carry on the family name. I reckon we’ll disappear from the annals of history.

Betty: Annals. Is that the same as anus?

Sue: That’s right Betty, it is. That is called a synonym. Don’t worry Bill I’m sure the county has an accurate record of you.

Betty: Well that makes sense now. Curtis is a history butt and he is always talking about annals.

Sue: So you’ve got Jim and Jerry’s clans. Who else?

Betty: You know they had three sisters and a couple of brothers that was stout enough to produce some male offspring. They each had at least five kids and most of `em was boys.

Cousin Bill: What does stout have to do with it?

Betty: A man’s seed has got to be strong to make a boy. Can’t have no little pecker either. Boy seeds are puny little swimmers; they have to be planted deep. Yep, you gotta park `em right on top of the ovary or they’ll never make it.

Cousin Bill: I think I’ll go get me a beer.

Betty: Did you know there are millions and millions of sperm released every time a man relieves his self.

Sue: When he urinates?

Betty: No dummy. Piss don’t have sperm in it. When he umm… you know… has an orgasm.

Sue: Why are you whispering? Orgasm is not a dirty word.

Betty: Well it sounds vulgar to me. It sounds like oral – makes me think of oral… you know. Come to think of it, that might be the reason Jerry and his wife never had any boys. And Jim too. Girl they was puttin’ it in the wrong hole!

Sue: Oh dear lord baby Jesus. You don’t really believe that do you?

Betty: Do you have a better theory?

Sue: No. No Betty I don’t. Let’s forget about the millions and millions of misplaced scrawny sperm for now. How many do you have on the list?

Betty: Two.

A short, short story about a timeless life.

Inspired by Time and Eternity, on a topic I have often dwelt on and for whatever reason I feel compelled to share a piece written in in 2011. And congratulations to Snowak for being Freshly pressed

 A short, short story about a timeless life.

Consumed by a paralyzing and debilitating dread. Lying inert as frenzied milliseconds spark still frames with bursts of terrestrial years past.
Whirling memories so fast they pin my mind to the wall with such intense pressure I cannot even utter why or what.
And then…
Quiet… Calm… Tranquility as clean and clear as the waters of a mountain spring. A peace more pure than morning dew.
Entrancing light more than warms and welcomes me, it heals me.
All of my troubles now seem trivial, fleeting, and totally unimportant.
I am overcome by a sense of well being… an indescribable comfort that makes pain, sorrow and worry words I no longer  comprehend.
There are no strangers here, I know everyone and everyone knows me. The glowing they emit is untainted and wholesome, it is love and it nourishes my spirit.
The further I travel from this flesh and bone shell, the more peaceful and perfect I feel.
Awakened to the memory of such wonder and well being I can see the universe. Where we have all been, where we are going, together.
I am not grieved for anyone who is not here, only grateful for those present.
I want to ask questions but none of them really matter now. The few inquiries I have are answered before I can speak:
Yes, they are here. The answer is no. Time? Time has many meanings. .. All in due time.
A sudden jolt and I awake ensnared in this weak, pained, decaying carcass. More aware now of all these imperfections, though less troubled by them for they are the fate of every man to some degree.
I am made aware that the anxiety of transition will remain. As it was coming into the flesh, it will be when returning to the spirit. Much like the fear of a roller coaster one is determined to ride.
Death comes to every life and life comes from every death.
And me…. I nearly lived.

Crazy Conversations (Christmas Dinner)

Cotton, peas, your friends, your seat, your nose… There are a lot of things you can pick. Family isn’t one of them. Disclaimer: Life is crazy, people are crazier and my family… well they get the crazy award if there is one. This is a work of ‘true fiction’ inspired by family. The names have been changed to protect the guilty. CAUTION: They cuss.

Teddy, Gene and Beth couldn’t be with us due to the fact that Teddy and Gene had a hangover prior engagement [they had some how forgotten about] and poor Beth is a tit bag didn’t feel well.Turkey Tom

Robert: Why are we having turkey? Turkey is traditional. I thought you all agreed on a non-traditional Christmas dinner.

Audrey: We did.

Robert: Well turkey is about as non-traditional as my –

Audrey: Robert! Watch your mouth. Besides this is Christmas Eve, you can have a non-traditional dinner tomorrow.

Robert: But what about today?

Audrey: Today you will eat turkey.

Tom: If I’d known we were having turkey I would have stayed home.

Audrey: Just carve the bird dear; you don’t have to eat it.  Be sure to set some aside for Beth. She likes turkey and it might make her feel better.

Robert: Beth will eat anything that doesn’t eat her first. She should have dragged her lazy ass off of the sofa if she wanted turkey.  I ought to eat the whole bird out of spite – that would serve her right.

Tom: Bob please don’t talk bad about Beth when she isn’t here to defend herself.

Robert: What did I say that wasn’t true? You know you’re married to a bitchy hag that thinks she’s a diva.

Tom: She is my diva.

Robert: Oh hell, now you’re gonna make me puke. You have no idea there is a difference between a diva and a bitch.

Audrey: Stop it Robert! I can’t believe you kissed my mother with that nasty mouth.

Robert: Don’t worry; I spit the cuss words out before I kissed her. So what are we having for meat?

Audrey: There is chicken in the dressing, eat that.

Robert: There isn’t enough chicken in that dressing to fill my hollow tooth.

Audrey: First you insult my sister now you disrespect my mother’s dressing?

Robert: How am I disrespecting her dressing?

Audrey: You know there is a whole chicken in there and you make a smart alack remark about your hollow tooth. Maybe you should see a dentist.

Robert: I saw the dentist two weeks ago. You know that.

Audrey: What did he say about that hollow tooth? Did he offer to fill it?

Robert: I don’t need any fillings, my teeth are perfectly fine.

Audrey: Then the chicken shouldn’t be a problem.

Robert: This is the saddest damn dinner I’ve ever seen. It is gawdam meatless. I bet Beth is layed up eating a slab of frickin’ brisket. You’re right Tom, you should have stayed home and I should have gone to your house.

Audrey: Kiss my ass Robert.

Robert: OH, Audrey. You said a bad word.

Tom: She didn’t mean it.

Audrey: Oh I totally meant it! Literally. I don’t give a flying rat’s patootie if he eats the turkey or the dressing but I sincerely want him to kiss my bare naked butt or he’ll have turkey sandwiches for a month.

Robert: Now I never said I didn’t like turkey sandwiches. Come to think of it I like them a lot on wheat bread with mayonnaise… Tom slice it real thin and wrap a few pieces for us to take home. Not the drumstick, I don’t like-

Audrey: Robert?

Robert: What?

Audrey: Would you like to kiss my derrière before or after you say the blessing?

Robert: After would probably be better for me.

Weekly Photo Challenge : Delicate

Thank you dear husband for allowing me to photograph your delicate sensory organs while you slept. I was so excited when you yawned, exposing your pretty little tongue to the camera. I must admit I worried you were going to wake up when I pulled at your eyelid but you were such a trooper and went right back to snoring. I’m sorry about waving the dusty faux rose in your face but it was part of the ceremony. Oh, and you were right sweetie, you do need to trim your nose hairs.

This week’s photo challenge is titled Delicate

It’s the End of the World As We Know It (And I Feel Fine)

I wish I hadn’t drank all of those margaritas on the beach the night before….  I wish I hadn’t downed so many Dos Equis on the bus ride but OMG it took like ninety hours to get there and a margarita hangover leaves a person very thirsty.

December 21st of 2012. I don’t recall that date being mentioned in 1995 when we toured the ancient grounds of Chichen Itza. I suppose it was irrelevant with Y2K looming in the not so distant future. Maybe the guide did make mention and I missed it because I was passed out resting half way up the pyramid. That of course would not have happened if he’d sent the Sherpa I requested.

I don’t think the tour guide liked me despite my best efforts to build a rapport.

“Parlez-vous français?” I had asked. “Oui- petit.” He responded. That exhausted my french so I gave him a slap on the back and said, “Well jolly good for you old chap.” He snarled and started his rehearsed dialogue for the small crowd.

Everyone listened in awe as he pointed at the cracked engravings and bits of broken symbols, skirting over the fissures and holes filled with smooth stones. I am not a hieroglyphics expert but I could see large gaps of information were missing from the story. Laying my linguistic talents aside and in my most authentic voice I gently interrupted, “Sir? Pardon me? With so much of the picture missing how can you be sure of that interpretation?” but like a well-trained telemarketer he pressed forward with the history lesson he’d been taught.

“Escuzzie  moi señor? Ooday ooyay hablas ingles?” I asked. Initially he ignored me but after repeating the inquiry eight times I got his undivided attention and readied my next question as he turned to face me. “Are there any little Mayan peoples left? Perhaps you have an oral history -”

“NO!” he snapped before slowly raising the corner of his mouth to reveal sharp decaying teeth. I have to admit it was a bit creepy staring down the rusty tines of this human tiller so I spat, “Fine! I’ll just look at the rocks and make up my own story.”

After silent hours of wandering aimlessly research (silent unless you count the noise of the Quetzal) the only conclusion I came away with was this: We are not an advanced generation; not in 1995 and not now. We assume way too much and despite all of our technical gadgets, we are idiots.

So December 21st is only days away and I sit staring at 17 year old photographs wondering, Where is my fanny pack and that intelligent archeological tourist hat that hubby was wearing? Where on earth did I get those outrageous shorts and what will I get the children for Christmas? All the while one line from a song I can’t remember loops in my frontal lobe. ‘It’s the end of the world as we know & it and I feel fine.’ I think that’s REM. They may have been ahead of their time and we may be out of it. Any naysayers, doomsdayer’s or opinions on the subject? Personally – if I can pinch my own flesh I’m not falling for it.

Weekly Photo Challenge: Changing Seasons

Weekly Photo Challenge: Changing Seasons

The winter solstice is due to hit Texas on December 21st and the last of the golden Hickory leafs are falling. Another season will soon have passed leaving only the evergreens to stand watch while nature sleeps.

As the days are shortened it seems patience is lengthened (if only for a short time) and hearts give way to kinder notions. Colorful festivities dot the dulling landscape and religious traditions are celebrated all over the world. What a sight that must be to behold from the heavens.

The garden tools are stored away and replaced with the red, gold and greens of Christmas. These things [along with a good bonfire] make the change much more bearable.

Waiting

I honestly didn’t know who this man was (I’m sheltered like that) until Sara’s post exposed him here on WordPress. No, I do not live in a cave though I have often wished I did.

The thing that moved me other than his world renown photography is that Steve McCurry’s Simple Act of Waiting  told in pictures is [chillingly] what I imagined when I wrote Waiting. I seriously got goosebumps.

If you’re like me (sheltered and horrible with names) or you are lucky enough to live in a cave, that doesn’t matter – I know you will recognize his photos when you see them. Who could forget the eyes of the Afghan girl starring out from the cover of National Geographic? Who would want to?

Waiting

For hopes that hung on a chicken bones
For hearts that lived in chains
For pods of green that died unknown
While waiting for the rain

For dreams left bare on empty prayer
For souls that wished in vain
For tears unshared in mute despair
While waiting for a change

For you and I and all mankind
For worlds where peace was slain
For faith and mind no man can bind
We wait and wait again

Poem first published in Interior Verse © 2012. Republished 2018 in Getting Me Back

Weekly Photo Challenge: Reflections

Reflections. One could go in so many (deeper) directions with this week’s photo challenge. I chose a few simple mirrored images.
You know I have become somewhat of a procrastinator and [once again] goofed off all weekend. So now it is Monday and everyone has gone back to their weekly grind leaving me without a proven assistant, someone to inspire me and offer suggestions. Oh sure I have plenty of insects and dying foliage but they don’t seem to speak to me at the moment. Was it something I said? I don’t know. Nevertheless I found a new assistant. He is young and inexperienced, a bit awkward and doesn’t take directions well but he works really cheap. I mean really, really cheap. After a few belly rubs and a dog biscuit I had him eating out of my hand, literally. And now without further ado I present to you the reflections of Mr. Clyde Kadiddlehopper.

"Calm down Clyde or you'll break the mirror."

“Calm down Clyde or you’ll break the mirror.”

"Now you both have a biscuit. Good boy."

“Now you both have a biscuit. Good boy.”

"I know you're a little apprehensive but..."

“I know you’re a little apprehensive but…”

"Ponder Clyde...  what does 'reflection' mean to you?"

“Ponder Clyde… what does ‘reflection’ mean to you?”

"It's okay you cracked the mirror. Cheer up -dogs aren't supposed to be superstitious."

“It’s okay you cracked the mirror. Cheer up -dogs aren’t supposed to be superstitious.”