Lumber Jack

I’m reblogging this in honor of Jackson’s 10th birthday. What a terrific grandson he is, and a true Lumber Jack.

nananoyz's avatarJust Kidding

There once was a legendary lumber man. The greatest man to ever wield an axe. This man’s name was Jackson.

Jackson was no ordinary boy. Born with an axe in his hand, he used a chainsaw as a rattle and cut his teeth on a big old knotty pine. He learned to climb a tree before he could walk, and he could beat any grown man at log rolling before his first birthday. When he was nine he could grow a full beard, so he left home and headed out to make his fortune.

“Bye Ma! Bye Pa!” Jackson called as he headed out with just his saw and his axe.

“Goodbye, son!” said his Ma.
“Make us all proud,” said his Pa.

Now even with his skills those first months on his own were not without peril. Once, Jackson came across a mountain lion fighting a grizzly bear. Mid-fight…

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Shell Game

While giving the cats their treats this morning I looked out the window next to their respective bowls and saw this critter:

  
I wanted to get a closer look, so I threw some jeans and a t-shirt on and hurried outside hoping he hadn’t had time to hide. A turtle can be surprisingly fast.

Of course the closer I got to this guy the further in he drew his head.

   
    
   
Until finally all I could see was the very tip of his nose. He didn’t trust this giantess. Can you blame him?

In other nature news, one of our magnolia trees is working overtime.

  
I have to confess that until I had a magnolia I had no idea what they looked like. The blossoms are super-sized, and the leaves look like they’ve been sprayed with Pledge. And they make a terrific mess on the forest floor. The flower on the left appears to be ready to blossom at any moment. 

Studly Doright has begun working on the beautification of our front entryway. We have quite a bit of work to do and no clear idea of how we want to decorate this area. I’m not a gardener, so I’m not entertaining  thoughts of planting anything, except maybe a few container plants. Suggestions are welcome.

  
   
The neighbors across the road have been busy clearing trees out of their front yard. Like a little kid, I love watching the work being done.

  
Every now and then I pinch myself. How did I manage to end up in such a lush paradise with a lake in my backyard? There are more trees in my neighborhood than within the city limits of my beloved hometown in the dusty Texas panhandle. 

I hope you’re where you want to be this morning. 

Wine Talking

Is wine the culprit
for the mistakes made tonight,
or for my regrets?

Only I claim fault
for my words, unrepentant;
no pinot to blame.

But the warmth inside
ameliorates the guilt
soothes me off my feet.

  

Unrealistic Expectations

Fifty-nine is such an awkward age. In my mind I’m a slender twenty-something, long slender legs, perky breasts, etc., etc. In reality, I’m a slightly overweight, almost 60 year-old grandmother with an expanding waistline and flabby upper arms. 

Sometimes my mind orders clothes off the internet that my reality can’t wear. Take these lovely skirts from Darn Good Yarn:

   
 Made from recycled saris, they’re reversible and pretty much one-size-fits-all. My mind was so sure I was going to look like a bohemian darling. My reality said, “Nope. Nope. Nope.”

So now what? I guess I could take them to a consignment shop, but I’m not crazy about either of the ones I know about in Tallahassee. Maybe I could have someone make pillows out of them? 

Next time my mind tries to talk me into something like this I’m going to tell it to take a hike. But then, maybe it already has.

Peace, people!

59 Jumpy Street

Victimized, traumatized, taken for a fool, lessons in humility in a world shown cruel.

Innocent turned wary, bold turned meek, peace into conflict, strength became weak.

Now shadows come creeping in broad daylight; making for hesitance, a sad new plight.

Questioning everyone, every look, every move, proceeding with caution; so much to lose.

Fear can paralyze, dehumanize, diminish size. Close your eyes and realize it’s all been lies, 

Or fear can mobilize, energize, exorcise preconceptions in every guise.

Choice. It’s all choice. To go back into the water or to stay on the sand. Hold my towel. I’m going in.

Peace, people!

Red Wine And Solitude

I might get drunk tonight
on red wine and solitude
lost in the depths of a
full-bodied zin and the whir
of a palm-leaved fan.

Disappointment weighted
afternoon, damn fool who let
you in? Now I feel the scorched
earth aftermath while he eats a
well done steak.

A better woman might have
walked away, held her tongue,
but she does not live here.
I said my piece, now there’s
a consequence.

Pardon me, I’ll be in my room.

One Day

Mother, in your life
did we honor your efforts?
Not nearly enough.

Only when you left
could we see your worth, your love
so ingrained was it.

Do we mark our breaths
or the beating of our hearts?
You were everything.

We give you this day
however insufficient
filled with all our love
.

I miss you, Mom.

  

Decorating on the Run

dinosaur attacks
relatively infrequent
panic inducing

  

Hanging around at Tallahassee Nurseries on Tuesday I ran into this fellow.   

And these folks.  
So, do I want to decorate my garden courtyard in early prehistoric or timeless religion?

Unnerving

I’d just left Chicken Salad Chick where I’d enjoyed the Cranberry Kelly and a side of grape salad. The day, sunshiny and Forida-perfect, insisted that I take a stroll and pop into the shops in a strip mall on Market Street in Tallahassee.

With no agenda, no cash, and all my credit cards gone to live with a bunch of nasty thieves, I truly was merely window shopping. 

I was dressed casually–cropped jeans and a soft white tshirt, flip flops. As I headed back to my car I saw a well-dressed woman walking toward me on the sidewalk. I smiled. I always smile, I can’t help it. 

She began laughing. Not a happy laugh, an insulting laugh, like, “Lady, who do you think you are?”

As she passed, close enough to touch, she looked me up and down. Now I’m wondering if I have food on my face (it wouldn’t be the first time) or a breast exposed (it could happen) or perhaps I’ve developed a unicorn type appendage between my eyes (not likely, but might be worth a snicker).

As soon as I got to my car I flipped the visor down to check my image in the mirror. Ok, I’m no beauty, but I couldn’t see a thing to laugh about. Well, my hair was a bit Dumb and Dumber-ish, but still….

I needed to stop at a grocery store for a couple of items on my way home, so once I entered the store I made a beeline for the ladies room. Again, America’s Next Top Model isn’t going to be calling any time soon, but I looked like an average 59-year-old grandmother with a touch of hippie grunge.

So why did this stranger feel the need to laugh at me? I want to track her down and ask. Why does it bother me that she laughed? Insecurity? Curiosity? 

Regardless, it was unnerving. Like that Denzel Washington movie, “Fallen,” where the devil keeps possessing different people, jumping from one host to another, singing The Rolling Stones’ Time is on My Side.

https://g.co/kgs/OnH8N
Hope she wasn’t possessed! That seems a good spot to end this. 

Peace, people!