I seldom buy recorded music, but recently I purchased a cd by country singer Chris Stapleton. Seriously, this is good stuff. If you like your music with an infusion of whisky, I highly recommend Chris.
http://youtu.be/4zAThXFOy2c
I don’t think there’s a bad cut on the cd. Tennessee Whisky is my favorite, though. Won’t you pour a glass of your favorite beverage and join me? Care to dance?
Solitude breaks hearts
Yet may heal a thousand wounds
Only time will tell
Darkness cries softly
Find comfort in my warm depths
Embraced by nature
Torch away the night
Bring light to every corner
Lest I die alone.
There’s a trip to Disney World in my near future. I’m meeting my niece CB and her family in Orlando to join in on their fun for a couple of days.
No matter how old and decrepit I get, Disney World will always be one of my favorite places on earth. When I’m too ancient to walk I hope they’ll just wheel me around the parks like a load of ripe cabbages.
I’ve been to the Magic Kingdom and its satellite parks on more than one occasion, and the one thing I have yet to perfect is the carrying of money/tickets/lip gloss/sunscreen, etc. I need something that will allow me to stow all of the above without impeding my ability to spiral upside down multiple times on Rock ‘n’ Roller Coaster.
Someone suggested a fanny pack, that ridiculously non-glamorous fashion faux pas from the 80’s. So being the rabid fashionista I am, I immediately googled “cute fanny packs.” Surprisingly, there are some nifty designs, but this suggestion also came up in my search:
Attends? Really? Do they know something I don’t? Just in case, I sense a shopping trip in my future.
Peace and continence, people.
Green cast of twilight
birds’ song floating from tall trees
forest peace descends
Lake without ripples
leafy reflections confound
filtered light descends
Red chairs keeping watch
over sunset’s still water
silent guardians
He walked tall, that Rusty Whiskers, said what he meant and meant what he said.
Devoted to doing the right, if not popular, thing, while spreading peace, love, and
Fried shrimp across this massive land. His life a benevolent mystery, marked by epic
Climbs to far off mountaintop gurus. The meaning of life intertwined with the taste
Of beef jerky and dried sunflower seeds. A brief dance with cocaine kept him humble,
Unaddicted, but slightly paranoid. Always up for a good story; always there for the
Woman he loves. His pottery and her signs bringing enlightenment to the masses.
Several days ago the words “Rusty Whiskers” popped into my mind. I rolled the words around trying to decide what needed to be done with them. Then, lo and behold, I meet a man named Rusty and his lovely lady, Sherry. It seemed like a sign.
I’m pretty sure Rusty Whiskers will appear in future posts. That name is just too great to let go.
A couple of weeks ago I shrugged off my nagging back pain to attend the LeMoyne Chain of Parks Arts Festival in downtown Tallahassee.
The day was gorgeous, seemingly made for enjoying the arts and soaking in the sun. Here are just a few of the photos I snapped that afternoon. 
Art was everywhere, and much of it was for sale. It’s not often that I wish to be wealthy, but that day I did.
I love functional art and these handcrafted sinks by Indikoi Sinks fit that category beautifully. 
Check them out online at www.indikoisinks.com
Then look at these gorgeous designs from Aquatic Impressions!
Here’s how they’re made:
I purchased a cutting board.
Hanging around with famous folks.
I really want this bicycle to decorate my courtyard area. Of course I also want a dinosaur and a Buddha and maybe a 30 foot tall bacon sculpture.
This was created from an actual leaf.
Bragging Rights:
Shampoo empty. Check.
Conditioner empty. Check.
Same day.
Same time.
Boom!
Looks really good!
The gorgeous covers of these books are reason enough to read the series. But thankfully, the story inside more than lives up to them. The Chronicles of the Imaginarium Geographica is a complex and gripping seven book series that will immerse you in worlds you only dreamt of until now. Oh, and dragons. LOTS of dragons.
On a rainy night in London in 1917, John, Jack, and Charles are brought together by the death of Professor Sigurdsson. He was the Caretaker of the Imaginarium Geographica, the atlas of every mythological and legendary land known. A strange little man named Bert, a traveler, tells the three that the Professor’s work is now passed onto them. He tells them of the mythical lands that exist in the Archipelago of Dreams that can only be reached by the Caretakers, aboard a Dragonship.
But now that they have accepted the role of Caretakers…
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Studly Doright is still snoring. I’m sitting on the screened in porch, sipping my coffee and waiting for the sun to rise. It’ll be at least another half hour before the lake gets any rays, and the darkness is deep. I wouldn’t venture out past the back door just yet; although, I imagine Wonder Woman wouldn’t be afraid of the dark.
The frogs are busy. They don’t croak. They click and clack and chirp. Some sound like those pendulum desk toys with metal balls bouncing off one another faster and faster, louder and louder, until they suddenly cease as if a large hand has intervened in the laws of physics.
When the amphibians’ chatter ends, birds begin tentatively singing their morning songs. Some contribute lilting melodies while others sound vaguely like annoying car alarms. Where is the giant’s hand?
The sky has begun to lighten and the squirrels are dancing in the dry leaves as my cat Patches attends to their every move. I imagine in her dreams she chases them down and gives them a good scolding.
I really don’t want to move from this spot, but even Wonder Woman has work to do.
Peace, and good morning, people!
I measured out the moments, one by one and piece by piece
Too many to count and too many to be dismissed.
Life slips by in those imperceptible increments,
And now I’ve lost the numbers so how will I know
When the sands have run out and I can no longer account
For the seconds left in the reckoning. It’s anyone’s guess.
Praying for Eyebrowz 