Negotiating With Lucifer

“On Saturday I go back for three more months. I’ve lost my mojo and can’t find my why. I like to think  my why is out searching for my mojo and both will return in force but I can’t be sure. All I really want is to finish strong.” I looked over at him to see if he had heard.  Not only the words, but also the doubt in my ability to do what I wanted to do.

Old Depot Road

North of Lone Pine, California, past the only stoplight, the two local bars, and a bit further beyond the ice cream shop, sits the turnoff to the Old Depot Road. Tucked away and easy to miss is a battered and fading sign that reads “Narrow Gauge Road.” But nobody actually calls it that. If you see the town’s graveyard on the right, you know you’ve gone too far. 

I Get Jason Bourne

I get Jason Bourne.  Now, I could end it all right there and be done because I like to think that those who know me can read my mind.  That they will understand the message and will find those four words as funny as I find them to be.   But I’ve learned the hard way that mind reading is not something to bet on.  Caesars Palace gives better odds.  So, at the risk of sounding like my life is one big nonstop adventure (it’s not) or worse, coming across as being whiny (I’m not), I’ll dig this hole a bit deeper. 

Forces of Nature

Even forces of nature have a beginning and an end.  Storms, earthquakes, brilliant sunrises, and glowing sunsets.  The sights and sounds of an Aurora Borealis on a cold crisp night.  All come and go but not before changing the lives of those who have the privilege of experiencing the force of nature.  And so it is with our friend Dona.  Another magic maker who could not help but to create in the paths of those she crossed reflections on what is important in life; laughter and memories that last forever.

Imaginary Boyfriend

I went back and forth on whether or not to post this blog.  I mean normally I’m ok with posting things that embarrass me.  This one however embarrasses me at uncomfortable levels.  Which is, of course, exactly why it’s being posted.  I suppose it’s because I was raised with the belief that if it makes you uncomfortable, then do what you need to do to get comfortable with it.   We can credit my mother’s side of the family for this twisted yet effective approach for dealing with the truth.  Grandma pooped her pants?  Well let’s clean her up and talk about it until we’re laughing about it.