After the rain

A promise is a cloud; fulfillment is the rain. ~ Arabian Proverb

Blooming

in twenty-four hours
a bud blooms—prods me to live
one day at a time

What's Your Pleasure?

The view from one side of the narrow coastal road . . .

. . . including the Lady Kath from the Cayman Islands.
The tiny sailboat? Paying for prestige because . . .

walking across the road, is the same as sliding down the social scale.

Some folks can afford a sweet sailing vessel . . .

. . . others opt for a small sport fishing boat.

A seaplane, small speed boat, and a deep-sea fishing boat make for a pricey convergence.

A working lobster boat being trailed by seagulls.

Given your druthers, which of these would you like to spend a day aboard?

Addiction (160)

it's
not
a choice
it's a disease.
had I cancer you'd weep
why then treat this with any less compassion?
ignorant of facts, some judge
those who suffer
and fight—
many
die

NOTE:

I don't usually step in and explain what I've written. I'm making an exception because this is too important to me not to.

This is not written about any particular person. It did rise out deep frustration over all of the ignorant remarks I've heard and read over the past 24 hours. That this level of ignorance about this disease still pervades society is heart-breaking.

Yes, addicts have to want help. Active addiction doesn't allow much room for rational thought. So many think they can handle it alone or can't admit to themselves that they have a problem much bigger than they know. I've lost far too many loved ones to this disease to keep quiet about how angry and dismayed I am at how little progress we've made over time.

It's all I've ever wanted

Before I die I want to . . .

mend what's been broken
thank all who've enriched my life
help the world find peace

Inadvertent hypocrisy

it does get better

come back, we love and need you—

it got different

we're spiritual,

not religious; why do I

hear the Lord's Prayer?

thank you for my life

couldn't have done this alone

may you all find peace

my kit bag is packed

love, strength, truth, grace, wit, faith, hope

no room for dogma

I'm having lunch with THE JEFF!

I've wasted spent a staggering unbelievable insanely idiotic bit of time trying to decide which prompt to write about for National Blog Posting Month. Not surprisingly, my brain finally exploded from the strain.

In the end, what with the brain explosion and all, I decided to just write what's in my heart. For those of you expecting raccoons, birds, chipmunks, or the moon, I apologize in advance for your disappointment.

I had this fantabulous idea that answered the prompt: "Who would you like to meet for lunch?" I decided I'd have lunch with Jeff Gordon, my favorite stock car racer.

I lost you, didn't I?

Jeff is one of NASCAR's elite drivers; a philanthropist who's been giving back to the community through his foundation since 1999; and most importantly, a husband and father of 2 healthy children. He's the 28th most powerful athlete in sports. And, in case I haven't mentioned this a gazillion times in other posts, I think he's the cutest thing in or out of a firesuit. I'd like to meet the woman who wouldn't want to sit across the table from this face.

Last Thursday I had the good fortune to attend an event where he made an appearance to promote his major sponsor and hand a big-ass check over to the New Hampshire Food Bank. Oddly enough, this is the first time in NASCAR history that a corporation has used its clout to promote awareness for a nonprofit organization by sponsoring a NASCAR driver for much of the season. As I listened to him talk about AARP's Drive to End Hunger, his commitment and zeal were obvious. His passion is helping children. When it was announced that AARP was going to sponsor Jeff's car to promote awareness and help raise money for folks on the other end of the age spectrum, most of us involved with NASCAR were a bit mystified. Watching him talk about elderly hunger in America, I completely understood why he was the ideal choice. He honestly cares about people, not just the little ones.

He is very, very good with the younguns' and that's a fact.

This kid is not avoiding the cameras; he's reading his question to Jeff.
"Do you let your wife drive when you go places together?

This little guy was a bit shy. Mom asked Jeff her son's question.
The 7-year old is an aspiring racer, hence the intense conversation.

At the end of the event, I was dumbstruck by the realization that Jeff Gordon, my hero on and off the track, is just a guy. Just. A. Guy. And I'd love to have lunch with him. Here's exactly how my dream lunch would go.

We'd dine at a quiet sidewalk cafe in New York City. I wouldn't make an ass of myself by allowing my alter ego, the squealy girl fan, to make an appearance. Then, at a prearranged time, Always Home and Uncool, aka Kevin McKeever, would casually stroll around the corner. Of course I'd invite him to join us for an après le dîner apéritif. I'd watch Kevin work his magic as he explained to The Jeff why The JG Children's Foundation needed to adopt Cure JM, a small band of families working together to raise funding to find a cure for Juvenile Myositis. The Jeff would agree to help, we'd shake hands all around, and he'd walk back home to his family. Kevin and I would wait a reasonably period of time, then high 5 our way down the Avenue.

What could be better?

Juvenile Myositis is an incurable, often life-threatening disease. It's an "orphan" disease which simply means Cure JM doesn't receive any government funding. It needs a home. I think The Jeff Gordon Children's Foundation would be a fine place for it to live.

Gone racin'

I know, kiddo. It's gonna be a scorchah for shu-ah, ayuh.

95%

95% Full Thunder Moon

Wasn't thrilled with the first one so I gave it another go with texture.

Overheard in the backyard . . .

I have no idea why my husband thinks I spend too much time sitting on the deck watching the wildlife.

Sheesh.

Seeking the source of the song

full-throat dual-note
occasional bursts of tri-notes
recognized the voice

searched old memories
then it appeared—northern bob-white
a song from my youth

immature, off route
not seen in this habitat
thanks for the fly-in

It's no raccoon family, but it's what I've got . . .

watched that big tree hole

for over a week now—pffft

them 'coons are long gone

he's no replacement

he's adorable and quick

he may grow on me

with head bowed, eyes sad

he too knows they left one night

together we'll wait

Stuck at the drawbridge . . . thinking

The Inscription Reads:

Memorial to the Sailors and Soldiers of New Hampshire
who participated in the World War 1917-1919

The Great War

the war to end all wars

didn't