Old Grizz

progress

2011-01-02T08:24:00.000-08:00

Progress? Are you kidding? Two days into the new year and you ask me about Progress. Where am I? Friggin up to my ears in progress..that's where I am.

Began a new blog idea http://snippletsintime.blogspot.com/2010/12/beginning.html stop in and check it out and tell me your thoughts. You might want to join in...never know
Began interviewing the homeless for an article I am writing. I plan to go out and beg for a few days just to get the feeling. (donating any money I get to a charity) What do you think? Do the homeless get rich begging for money on the corner? I will post the first article Mon 1-03-11 (HOMELESS--HUNGRY--PLEASE HELP--GOD BLESS) Do you give a dollar or two, or turn do you you head? This project will be posted on my blog: http://burnedtoastandcoffee.blogspot.com/
Volunteered to help deliver food and clothing to Indian tribes in the mountains of Arizona and Colorado. Scheduled to leave Jan 13th. (God willing and we can get there) Right now they are up to their rear ends in snow and we can't get to them. Hopefully roads will be open when we leave. Plan to write about the experience and have some photos. Ever heard of the "Forgotten People"...Neither did I...check this story out on my blog: http://tatersmaterswordsandwater.blogspot.com/ beginning in Feb.
For a preview of where I am heading, go to: http://picasaweb.google.com/forgottenpeoplecdc/LindaRobynRenoConferencePhotos#
Progress? two days?....you bet...I've made progress.
What about you? Make part of your progress a pledge to open up your hearts and help someone in need.

only a night

2010-12-25T13:18:00.000-08:00

"Only a night from old to new," the old hag cackled.
"Sleep tonight and the morning sun will wash over your sins."

"Not a chance in hell," I smiled. "Some sins are not washable."

A thoughtful frown surrounded her wart. She lit her corn cob pipe and took a deep suck on some nasty smelling concoction.

"Damn," I winced. "If anything could wash my sins away the smell of that crap would surely do it. What the hell are you smoking?"

"Peyote, mixed with some cedar bark," she smiled. "And, yes it does seem to make my sins disappear. At least it makes them go someplace that I don't worry about. Wanna puff?"

"Maybe a slug of whiskey or something. Something real strong."

"I got a jug made by old Joe about five years ago. I use it when ever I get the grippe. I don't know if it helps but after a swig or two I could care less."

I took the jug and a big swallow. It damned near set my throat on fire and oh sweet Jesus, when it hit the bottom of my gut I was sure I was burning in hell.

When I caught my breath, I gasped, "Hells fire, lady, I should have smoked the pipe."

"No sonny boy," she cackled. "You chose the right potion. This peyote and cedar bark ain't for boys. It would really send you on a trip to hell"

I went to her sink and drank straight from the spigot.

The water slapped me in the face.

"Come on son," the preacher said. "It's time."

I sat up. Water was dripping from my face. My unfinsished meal was staring at me. I shook my head and decided that they had drugged me to make it easier.

What the hell, what would I be able to do? Beg like a coward?

No, let them kill me and get it over.

As I walked to the chanber I thought about the dream. Or, was it a dream?

Maybe the old hag was my first meeting with the devil.

Maybe the fire in my throat and gut was just a taste of what was coming.

Maybe the smell was my flesh frying in the chair.

One thing was for sure, the old hag had been right when she said,

"Only a night from old to new."

Happy New Year Keith (Carry on Tuesdays)

THE CHANDSHO MANIFESTO

2010-12-25T10:05:00.001-08:00

Chandsho was a mistake but as in all mistakes of creation the creators glory in their ability to create.

Chandsho was created when an over exuberant writer played around with a macho verificator. They were both very happy with the conceiving of Chandsho.

There was absolutely no reason for Chandsho to have been created. The creation could have been avoided with a little fore thought.

The creation of Chandsho was immediately a pain in the creator's over active mind. The creator had no idea what to do with Chandsho and the macho verificator had disappeared immediately after the seed was planted.

Once the creator continued with the folly of her creation she had to feed and nurture it. However, she did not have the time or the ability to take proper care of her creation. Chandsho would be left to muddle through life without the proper nourishment and guidance.

The creator did not realize that once an entity like Chandsho was created, it could not be legally destroyed or partially destroyed or even quietly disposed of except by the creator. Also, once created an entity of Chandsho's nature could in theory exist for eternity even if it were destroyed.

After much thought and personal prayer the creator decided to abort Chandsho. She decided that aborting the child would be the best for everyone concerned. She could quietly have the child disappear and no one would be the wiser. After all, only she and the verificator knew that the child existed and the verificator was not available to object. It would be easy. A simple slash and the child would not exist.

That is exactly what she did. She aborted Chandsho.

When the verificator returned to visit their creation, his child was gone. "Who would do such a thing," he asked the powers that governed their world.

"Chandsho's creator," they replied. "She can do anything she wants to with her creations."

The verificator was angry and went to the powers with a Manifesto that he called the "Chandsho Manifesto".

It was a simple manifesto as manifestos go. It read:

"NO BLOG CAN BE ABORTED WITHOUT THE APPROVAL OF WORD VERIFICATION"

Dear Santa

2010-12-19T09:18:00.000-08:00

Dear Santa

I feel rather foolish writing to you. You see I am seventy-one years old. About the time I turned eight I decided that you were a fat old fake. I became to old to believe in Santa. You were just some myth made up to fool stupid little kids.

Then I grew up and raised my kids and you took on a different meaning. Yes, you were fake but I realised the joy that just the thought of you brought to little children and God knows that we need to create all the joy that we can.

In my Old Grizz years I have had the opportunity to represent you and play your part at different schools and not only did it bring joy to the hearts of kids, it bought joy to my heart.

Now, I am writing to apologize. Now I know that you are real You are the joy in millions of children's hearts.

What could more real than that?

written for Carry on Tuesday - Merry Christmas Keith

the window

2010-12-18T18:55:00.000-08:00

The train was grunting it's desire to leave the station. It was mid December and it probably wanted to get home as much as we did.

The worst storm of the winter was blowing across the prairie. The snow had been falling all day and a thirty mile an hour wind was rocking the train. As we watched the empty street, a lone man in an overcoat approached the train.

He was hunched down inside his coat trying to keep warm. It was impossible to tell his age. He walked slow and careful to avoid slipping on the slick street.

I wondered why he would be walking the street in this storm? Did he have a purpose? Was he homeless looking for shelter?

The old man across from me echoed my thoughts. "Damn, I'm cold just looking at him," he continued.

The young man sitting next to the old man lit a cigarette, inhaled deeply and blew the smoke across the open train compartment and into my face..

Damn, I thought. How did I get stuck with a smoker? I hate smoke. I hate smokers. They are all so god damned inconsiderate. I just knew inside of his mind there was a great big fricking grin as the smoke drifted into my eyes and my lungs. If I had any guts I would throw him out of here. But, I didn't have any guts. I kept my mouth shut.

"Maybe he's the grim reaper," the smoker said

The old lady sitting next to me wasn't afraid to speak her mind . That's why I love old people. They have no qualms of saying exactly what was on their minds.

"Do you have to smoke that filthy thing in here?" she said.

"Fuck you," the smoker snarled. "There is no law against smoking so I'll smoke any god damned place I feel like it.

"Find another compartment," the old lady said. She was completely calm. She never raised her voice. I admired her ability to state her belief in such a calm manner. I knew that if I were able to summon the courage to say something I would scream at him.

He took another deep drag on the cigarette and blew the smoke directly at the old lady. This time a grin did appear on his face. His eyes were cold and I thought that maybe HE was the grim reaper.

With the grin still smeared all over his face he said, "and you are going to do what?" The smoke curled from his mouth and he actually laughed.

"Nothing," the old man said. "She is not going to do anything. But I am"

"Just what do you think you can do old man?" the smoker said.

The old man pulled a small snubbed nose revolver from his pocket.

The smile faded from the smoker's face. "Hold on old man," he sniveled. "I'll put the damn smoke out."

The train began to move.

"That won't be necessary," the old man said. "You can take your cigarette with you."

"OK," the smoker retreated. "I'll find another compartment."

"No," the old man said. "You are going to get off the train."

"Jesus," the smoker said. "The train is moving."

"That's correct," the old man smiled. "You had better hurry before it gets going any faster."

The old man pointed towards the door with his gun. The smoker got up and left. The old man followed.

As they left, the man from the street entered.

"Is this seat taken,? he asked.

"No." the old lady smiled. "Sit down."

"I almost missed the train." the new face said. "It's damn cold out there. I pity anybody stuck outside in this storm."

posted for Thursday Tales and Sunday Scribblings

Limits

2010-12-12T06:58:00.000-08:00

Limits...we all have them...
physical...mental...moral...ethical..speed.

I said all but there is one group of people that does not seem to have limits...Politicians.

There seems to be no limit on the stupidity of politicians. Everyone reading this blog will instantly think of some blundering law that their government has passed and enforced. I do not care what country you are from. Right now you have one of those boondoggles floating around in your head.

My favorite here in dumb old US of A is the plastic boondoggle. Many years ago the cry of tree huggers was heard all across the land.

"Save the trees", they preached.

The politicians found a cause.

"Save the trees", they stumped.

The trees were saved but only to be burned in greater numbers because laws were passed banning the cleaning of forests.

But the real damage is the plastic that replaced the trees. Plastic now befouls our planet.
Everything we own is made of plastic. We all know it. We all see it and yet it continues.

And now another travesty is about to occur as President Obama prepares to sign into law an act that will ban Jellybeans from the school lunch program . However the law will approve of skittles.

Now what the hell is that all about. Wasn't it President Reagan that love Jellybeans?
Is this some kind of political payback?

Do they think the Jellybean people are going to stand still for this? We could be in for some kind of civil war with everyone throwing Jellybeans and Skittles at each other and then pausing to eat the ammunition.

If you think we have a fat nation now...just wait.

Americans have a history of defying stupid laws. I can see it now. A million child march heading for Washington eating Jellybeans for breakfast, lunch and dinner.

How did I get from limits to this?

Maybe there is not limit to my idiocity.

written for Sunday Scribblings

Breath Taking

2010-12-11T20:05:00.000-08:00

Her love swept over me like a Tsunami. The force rolled my heart into my throat but it was not a feeling of rapture. She was suffocating me, smothering me like a doting mother. No, it was worse than a mother. It was, like I said, like a Tsunami. My mind was rolling and tumbling across a floor of sickening jealousy.
I raised my hands to her in protest. I begged her. Hear me. Hear my plea. I cannot live like this. But she refused to listen. No, not her. She was still stuck in the puberty of love. She was glued to me. She threatened me with death.. my death...her death...our death.

"Fine," I said. "I would rather die now than die a slow suffication. I need room. We need room. We cannot continue to live this way. I need to work. You need to have a life. I need more than just you."

Tears fell on the gun. She waved it at me. It wavered and then she turned it to her heart. I"m sorry. she cried. "I'm drowning in my need to be with you."

I dove for the gun. It exploded.

written for Carry on Tuesday

It's never been smooooooth

2010-12-06T15:18:00.000-08:00

According to Shakespeare and Keith, "the course of true love never did run smooth." And according to Old Grizz, they are right. I guess Shakespeare said if first but I doubt if he thought it first. In fact I would bet that Adam was the first or it could have been Eve. But it's for sure that one or the other thought it or said it or maybe they both turned to each other (after God had tossed them from the garden) and said, "how do you like them apples?"

"Yesterday we had it made and now look at us."

Eve probably turned to Adam and said, "Now look what you have done. You had better go find a job."

Adam, with a look of amazement, probably replied with, "Me? You were the one that that took a bite from the apple."

Eve, "It wasn't my fault, that stupid whitesnake tricked me."

Adam, "There you go, setting a precedent for all of our future generations."

Eve, " What do you mean, setting a precedent?'

Adam, "Now whitesnakes will be despised for ever."

Eve. "Serves him right, he caused this whole mess."

Adam, "How about making some lunch?"

Eve, "Why me? Why don't you make it?"

Adam, "I need to make the beer."

Super great granpa Old Grizz while lazing in the sun, "Well the whole world is going to pot now."

Mrs. super great grandma Old Grizz, "Get off your fat butt and go get some berries for dinner."

Super great granpa "Old Grizz. "I'm making beer."

posted for Keith's COT

Guidance

2010-12-05T08:52:00.000-08:00

Guidance is just another word for advice and although we all say we could use a little guidance, no one wants advice. When we hear the word "advice" something inside of our heads pushes the off button.

We, as in bloggers we, should make an effort to expunge the word "advice" and use only the word "guidance".

Instead of saying, "let me give you a little piece of advice," we should say something like. "let me offer you some guidance." "Guidance" has a heavenly sound to it but "advice" sounds like it is coming from parents that have no idea what they are talking about.

So here is my advice to you. Do not give advice, give guidance...er ah..

I'm sorry..Let me offer you some guidance...do not give advice.

A walk in the rain

2010-12-04T11:31:00.000-08:00

from "My White Sindow"

I stood on the corner, my shoulders hunched down inside the thin jacket I was wearing. There was a slight breeze coming across the bay and a misty rain clinging to my glasses.

I wiped my nose with the sleeve of my jacket and sneezed. Normally I enjoy a soft cool breeze coming off the bay, especially when it brings a soft rain with it. The rain and the breeze clean the city of its smog and grime.

But today I was miserable and the cool wet air didn’t feel all that great. I was headed for the corner store to get some cold medicine and then I was going to bundle up in front of my fire place and read “War and Peace” “War and Peace’ is my favorite book. I have owned the damned book for fifteen years and I have never finished chapter one. I read it strictly for putting myself to sleep.

I walked into Johnnie’s Grocery and right into the barrel of some kind of hand gun. I am not a person that cares for guns so I had no idea what was pointing at me. All I could see was a big black hole that looked like a cannon to me.

The guy on the other end of the hole was small and nervous. He had a hood that covered all of his head and most of his face. He could have been white, black, Mexican, or Chinese for all I knew. I didn’t want to stare at him. I have no idea why but I guess I thought he would shoot me if I did. He didn’t say anything but pointed to the rear of the store where two other patrons were. I walked back to where they stood.

Johnny was at his open register. The robber made some kind of motion with his gun and Johnny handed him a fist full of cash. He turned and looked at us and motioned to the floor with his gun. Johnny and the other two patrons got on the floor. Like a fool I just stood and looked at him. He pointed his gun at me and then he heard a siren. He looked at the door and then back at me and then turned and ran out into the rain.

About thirty seconds later a police car pulled up in front and two of the cities finest came in. Johnny had triggered his silent alarm.

Instead of a warm blanket and a fire place, I had a cold police station to spend the afternoon in. I spent two hours explaining that I could not give them anything but a general size discription.

I got back to my apartment at four and poured myself a nice big glass of Bailey’s and snuggled down in front of the fireplace with “War and peace”.

I was asleep by four-thirty.

written for "thursdays tales" Prompt taken from a post on "My white Window" - ~Don't threaten me with Love, baby. Let's just go walking in the Rain.~

hidden heart

2010-11-28T10:17:00.000-08:00

My heart was split in two and
no antidote could be found

I put the hurt behind my heart
and forgot that my heart
was not there

I walked through life
unaware that my heart
was not there

Then a ray of hope
found the hurt behind my heart
a light began to heal my silent soul

The love and kindness
of an angel provide the cure
for the loneliness in my heart

She provided the antidote
that healed my shattered heart
and removed the hurt within my soul

the arrival

2010-11-27T20:31:00.000-08:00

The seed of my being traveled across
the universe before the age of dawn.

It waited patiently
as the planet regurgitated its soul
to make room for the seed of man to arrive
and test the depth of his soul.

My seed waited as the seed before me
made their mark in the soil at my feet
and in the air that I now breathe.

My turn is now and my soul is
stirring the dirt and the air of
those that came before me.

When I am done
my soul will shoot
back across the universe
like a rocketship with no fire.

My seed will continue as I continued.
We will be ready
for what is here or beyond the stars.

goodbye john

2010-11-23T17:51:00.000-08:00

Gravestone by geewizard

John and I used to swap a lot of jokes about death. At our age it is only normal to talk and joke about the here after. I am sure this picture is through the eyes of John who has preceded me and is already "pushing up daisies". I am sure it was sent to me by my good friend who left this earth about four months ago.

He warned me that he would haunt me if I didn't come to visit him but I never expected him to haunt me using the world of blogging. I know he is peeking through the grass waiting for me to visit him.

I told him I would drop by now and then with a joke or two and maybe some news about his wife and son but I have not been true to my word.

It's not really my fault. I haven't heard a new joke in ages. His wife has already remarried and his son has been arrested on drug charges. Now you tell me how I am supposed to cheer him up with old jokes and bad news.

So John old pal, old buddy, you just keep peeping through the daisies watching for me. I'll drop by when I hear some new jokes but you will have to wait until your wife and I get back from our honeymoon.

Thursday Tales

This story posted for Thursday Tales

burning leaves

2010-11-22T18:02:00.000-08:00

Well there you have it...a new word...schmoomy... the feeling of gloom on stormy day.

A word that describes what one one feels when trying to write a book or even a teeny weeny paragraph and all you are able to do is look out the window and wish you were just a falling leaf with none of the wishes in life.

Or maybe even better a leaf caught in a howling gale being blown somewhere far far away and hoping to land in the class of a Faulkner or a Hemingway and find out if they ever felt schmoomy.

Or maybe to be caught in a whispering breeze to be wafted gently and lovingly into the arms of someone who cared.

But as you watch the leaf is raked into a pile and set afire. Your thoughts are brightened. Maybe your words are a leaf and you strike a match only to burn your fingers.

You turn to your desk and take a pen or strike the keys in hope that what words you write will live to burn a mind or two and not end up in a pile of smoldering leaves.

Friction

2010-11-07T05:53:00.000-08:00

Friction..So many places to go, so many words to write...

Mechanical...no, too mundane and educational..who cares about the mechanics heat and friction.

Work Place ...All sorts of friction flying around on the job. Body masses moving up and down the ladders of success and failure, rubbing against each other causing envy and hate.

Political...can't go there ...after this last campaign, I cannot stand any politicians...from either party

more places of friction...the sexes...school...social...family

Family... that's what I am going to rant about...at least after last nights small family birthday party.

I have been blessed or damned by a son that is successful in the field of computerese.

I have also been blessed or damned by a son-in-law the is a successful inhalation medical technician. Wow..that's mouth full.

I have also been blessed because these two young men "know everything". They know everything about every subject. The problem is their knowledge always clashes and they are always discussing (arguing) one issue or another.

Last night they were "discussing" how an Internet music program works. The program has something to do with creating a personal music file of songs that each individual likes. I left the room before they had determined a winner.

Does anyone out there know the name of that program?

The promise

2010-11-05T14:38:00.000-07:00

A girl, warm and cozy

one that required no promise

A girl sweet and nice

one that needed no vine

A girl sexy and loving

one that wanted me for me

A girl with the spirit of youth

one that did not sufffocate a love

I found that girl

so wild and free

but I broke the promise

that I made to me

I would not fall in love

with such a girl as she

and yet I did

and her spirit has never set me free

Posted for Cary on Tuesday...have a nice holiday Keith

true love is forever

2010-11-02T06:31:00.000-07:00

They met when young

Their love shy and innocent

They married and lived as one

Their love hot and complete

They raised their children

Their love warm and quiet

They grew old as one

Their love knowing and silent

Octogenarians they were

Their love in their souls

They are the few to know

True love

Intense

2010-10-30T19:04:00.000-07:00

Well, I have never wanted to tell this story because I am sure it will never be believed.
But I am here to tell you that what you are about to read is absolutely true.

It is not a long story but most good stories just happen and they happen very quickly. If you are unlucky enough to witness such a story you will convince yourself that it wasn't true.

This story is true and you are the first people I have ever told it to.

I was camping by myself in the Utah Canyon Country between Zion National Park and Bryce Canyon. My fire was small and I was sitting close so I could use the flames of the fire to see the book I was reading. I had hiked 15 miles that day so it wasn't surprising that I nodded off. I am not sure how long I dozed but when I woke up there was an old Indian sitting across the fire. I jumped in surprise.

"Do not be afraid." he said. His voice was deep and powerful. His tone calmed me and I immediately felt at ease.

I wasn't scared but I couldn't find words to say. I just stared at him across the fire and the longer I looked at him the more he appeared not to be real. I shook my head and blinked but he didn't disappear. I finally found my voice but all I could think of to say was, "Who are you?"

He said, "I am your great grandfather. I am here to warn you that you are in danger."

"What danger?" I asked.

"Those clouds, over there above the mountain, are dropping a lot of rain. Very soon a wall of water will come. You must move."

Then he just faded into the night. I cannot honestly say whether he walked away or faded a way. I was watching the clouds over the mountain and remembering the warnings I had received from my father about flash floods.

I didn't even take time to put out the fire. I grabbed my things and headed for higher ground. As I took off I could hear the roar of the water and I began to run. I reached the higher ground just as the water roared by.

A spirit? My great grandfather? True? Maybe...Maybe not, but the flash flood happened and something or someone woke me up and told me to run.

I can dream...or can I?

2010-10-30T16:42:00.000-07:00

Last night I dreamt I was young again. Oh what a wonderful dream it was.
Naturally all wonderful dreams for a man of my age include a pretty young girl.

Now, don't get upset because it wasn't a dream about an old goat with a cute young thing. No sirree, I was young again and agile and spry and good looking.

Maybe good looking is a little white lie but what the hey, it was my dream.

The girl was exactly what a man would dream about and exactly what a man shouldn't dream about. She was everything that would make every pore in a man's body sweat.

The scene was perfect..a Hawaiian sunset beach with a cool breeze.

Then she came into my arms and our lips met and it was the worst kiss I have ever had.

I woke up with my little black Schnauzer licking My face...Yuk

curiouser and curiouser and curiouser

2010-10-23T20:43:00.000-07:00

Now where did I hear that before? Or did I hear it before? I am curious to know, so of course I will google curiouser etc., etc., ...hold on, I'll be back in a second...There, I'm back. Now that didn't take to long, did it?

Guess what? I could find no reference to curiouser and curiouser and curiouser. Only curiouser and curiouser. There are a lot of references to two curiousers but no references to three curiousers

So now I am curious to know if I, "Old Grizz", can actually get credit for coining the phrase..."An old hungry bear gets curiouser and curiouser and curiouser the closer he comes to the smell of food."

And remember, Curiosity killed the cat, not the bear.

Who me...die?

2010-10-23T20:07:00.000-07:00

Absolutely....and I have no idea what will be thought of me. Oh I know the family will make me more than I am or was, that is only natural. All the bad things are forgiven and the good things multiplied by 10 the first year and then who knows. Some of my relatives that I personally know were hanged for horse stealing are now Saints in control of various parts of heaven. Hell, my aunt told me her uncle (one of the horse thieves) on her husbands side has the harp concession in the Baptist section of heaven.

But for me, if I die or when I die, think this of me...I am happy with who and what I am...I have no regrets..except maybe never getting to Australia to meet Linda May, oldegg and Rinkly Rhimes, or New Zealand to have a beer with White Snake and his lively woman or even to cross the pond and have a pint with Keith.

So, If I should die, please one and all, raise a glass to me of whatever you use to toast with and know that I have enjoyed your blogs and your comments.

Harvest

2010-10-17T07:45:00.000-07:00

Somewhere, someplace in a time from the past, a wise person (probably female) said, "Your mind is a field of dreams. If the dreams are bad the harvest will be bad. If the dreams are good and honorable, the harvest will be good and honorable. The harvest of your future will be your dreams of today. Dream high and harvest a life of honor."
That could have come from Rumplestillskin's wife, Dimples or maybe it's something Momma Bear told me.

learning curve

2010-10-16T20:31:00.000-07:00

Look, if there’s one thing I’ve learned,

it's

that I have not learned one thing!

ah, well

learning is a

curious thing

you think

you have learned

but everything changes

then

what we think

is not

what we think

I think

did it

change again?

A Great Man

2010-10-10T10:15:00.000-07:00

This week the world is remembering John Lennon's birthday.
Keith honored him on Carry on Tuesday with the theme of "Beautiful Boy".
Sunday Scribblings' discussion is on "Essentials".
I posted a poem on my blog Burned Toast and Coffee indicating my thoughts on John Lennon.

Youth

so young and innocent,

I give my life to you

please absolve me

beautiful boy

I was there once

but lost it

and my other son

will you be him

also

SS states "In writing and in life, the secret is sometimes in what you leave out. I believe one of the "essentials" in John Lennon's life was the loss of his first son, Julian

John Lennon gave up or put on hold his singing career and became a "househusband" to raise his son, Sean. In the past and in another world lived a first son, Julian.

Life and career interfered with his relationship with Julian.

It is not easy for a man to lose a relationship with a son. It is not easy for a man do deal with relationships with ex-wives.

My poem is a belief that John Lennon loved both sons but was only able to raise Sean and gave up a career to have a son. I also believe that if his life has not been cut short he would have found and reconciled with Julian.

Great men do those things.

Flashback - When I was nine

2010-10-03T08:42:00.000-07:00

I was introduced to death when I was just a boy by my two year old neighbor, Timmy. Timmy was a strapping tow head toddler with lots of curiosity. I am sure Timmy never intended for me to see death at the age of nine. I can still remember Timmy running around his back yard, his blue eyes sparkling in the sun. He would laugh and giggle with his dad in chase, pretending not to catch him and then grabbing him up with a big tickle and a rub on his chubby belly with whiskered chin. No daddy, no Timmy would giggle and then ask for more.

Then one hot summer day when Timmy's dad was away Timmy could not be found. We all looked and yelled and checked all the neighbor's yards and houses. Have you seen Timmy? Timmy's missing everyone would say and another neighbor helped to look that day. Timmy's dad came home and the police were called and they all searched all over again.

Timmy's dad was scared and Timmy's mom was frantic and then someone, I can't remember who, found little Timmy Roebuck floating in the irrigation ditch behind my home. I was there when they pulled him out all wet and blue. The ambulance came and they tried to make him breathe and then my mom was crying and said. "Timmy is dead". I didn't understand death and I wasn't sure what it meant but I cried too. Timmy's gone to live with God they said.

They put Timmy's tiny body in a tiny casket in the house next to mine. My mom asked me if I wanted to say goodbye to Timmy and I was afraid to say no. We walked next door hand in hand. Timmy's dad was stern and Timmy's mom was crying.

My mom walked across the room to say goodbye but I was afraid to follow because I did not know what I would see. My mom said, "Come on and say goodbye."

Timmy's dad said, "Yes please, Timmy would like that."

I edged across the hard wood floor and I shut my eyes and did not want to look but my mom said, "Open your eyes and say goodbye, it will be alright." I opened my eyes and looked at Timmy. He lay quiet and he looked peaceful and he looked alright. I did not know what to say so I stared at him and then reached to feel his hair. It was blond and soft and felt alright so I put my hand on his chubby cheek to feel his skin.

But Timmy's cheek wasn't soft and warm and didn't feel alright.

It was cold and hard and felt like stone. Timmy startled my fingers and etched my mind when he introduced me to the stone cold feel of death when I was only nine.

the treatment

2010-09-12T08:18:00.000-07:00

I was feeling a little ill so I went to the emergency room at the local hospital. They decided "feeling a little ill" wasn't an emergency so they stuck me in the back of the waiting room to wait until my "little illness" became a "big illness".

I don't remember how long I waited for my illness to become terminal but I am sure it was more than an hour or two or maybe three but more than likely ten or twelve. I know I missed my breakfast and most likely my lunch but it didn't matter because I was being used as a volunteer in a medical experiment. One nurse or another, some male and some female, would peer through their little window to see if I was still alive and I am sure they were hoping I wasn't.

Finally, when I was sure my "little illness" had incubated itself into a "big illness" using the proof that I just thrown up all over their nice new furniture, I approached the sacred little window and inquired when my turn was?

"We are very busy", I was told. Your need to wait because your illness is still not important enough to us. "Go back and sit in your vomit."

I decided the treatment I received was not worth waiting for a treatment I may never receive and left leaving my last nights dinner all over their waiting room furniture.

the bus stop

2010-09-06T06:46:00.000-07:00

The other day I was waiting at a bus stop. I wasn't waiting for the bus. I just wanted to see what it felt like to wait for a bus.

It is no different than waiting for anything else. As the bus's scheduled arrival time neared the younger waiters began to get fidgety and nervous. They paced and walked into the street trying to help the bus to get there faster. The older people just sat and patiently waited.

The bus came and went, leaving me and a dirty old pan handler waiting on the bench.

He looked at me and said, "I don't have any money to help you out but if I did I would."

I gave him a five and walked back into my world.

Faith (again)

2010-08-29T14:43:00.000-07:00

When I read and commented on Anthony North on "Greed" I said I agreed with him about business greed but that I also thought that indiviual people are also greedy.

In my blog on "Faith", I said faith for me is faith in my fellow human beings to do the right thing.

On personal level of one to one people behave with honor and do the right things.

However, when they get layered by the desire to make a living they will look the other way. For exmple anyone working for a phone company will give the pitch because that is what they need to do keep their jobs.

Also in a blog by "K" (Khaalidah) she explains fasting for "Ramadan" and ties it into "Faith". I thank her very much for that post because any honest discussion of "Allah" and the Muslim religion is a blessing to those in the Christian world. We all need to learn and understand our fellows human beings.

This week I received my weekly poem from
"POETRY CHAIKHANA". Sacred Poetry from Around the World

"A chaikhana is a teahouse along the legendary Silk Road pilgrimage and trading route linking China to the Middle East and Europe. It is a place of rest along the journey, a place to shake off the dust of the road, to sip tea, and to gather together to sing songs of the Divine..."

Poetry Chainhana is a great site. The poets from the past have inspired me on many occasions. It is like Rumi came to read a special poem just for me.

This week's poem is on fasting enlightens us on the virtues of fasting. I think "K" may understand "faith" better than most.

Fasting
By Mevlana Jelaluddin Rumi
(1207 - 1273)
English version by Coleman Barks

"There's hidden sweetness in the stomach's emptiness.

We are lutes, no more, no less. If the soundbox

is stuffed full of anything, no music.

If the brain and belly are burning clean

with fasting, every moment a new song comes out of the fire.

The fog clears, and new energy makes you

run up the steps in front of you.

Be emptier and cry like reed instruments cry.

Emptier, write secrets with the reed pen.

When you're full of food and drink, Satan sits

where your spirit should, an ugly metal statue

in place of the Kaaba. When you fast,

good habits gather like friends who want to help.

Fasting is Solomon's ring. Don't give it

to some illusion and lose your power,

but even if you have, if you've lost all will and control,

they come back when you fast, like soldiers appearing

out of the ground, pennants flying above them.

A table descends to your tents,

Jesus' table.

Expect to see it, when you fast, this table

spread with other food, better than the broth of cabbages."

Faith

2010-08-29T10:44:00.000-07:00

Faith is a word with many meanings and connotations. It means different things to different people.

I like to use the word as it applies to people and my relationship to others. I say faith is a belief in people. Faith is trusting in people. I have faith in my fellow human beings. I believe that given the opportunity to do a good and honorable thing, all people will do it. Even those that society has beaten into the ground will rise up and help someone else when needed.

Yes, for me faith is very simple.

Faith is trust in my fellow human beings.

for an additional post of faith and fasting please read my post "Faith Again"

2010-08-25T07:50:00.000-07:00

I get a weakly blast in my email from a site called "Zen Habits". When I signed up I thought that Zen would be good for my soul. However, like a lot of other things I sign up for, I very rarely read it. I call it "Zen for my soul". It's not that I do not need it, because I do. I just find every reason in the world to avoid looking into my Zen Soul.

However, today I read a guest writer and his mountain theory.

How to Summit Life’s Everyday Mountain (Scott Dihsmore)

“The man who moves a mountain begins by carrying away small stones.” ~Confucius

....Last week I sat on top of Mt. Shasta, a 14,179 foot mountain in Northern California. It was my first real summit and I was proud. Getting there took me through two days of snow, ice and below-freezing camping conditions, using crampons, an ice axe, and more layers than I thought I owned.

......I began to realize the lessons required to reach the top and make it back down safely. As it turns out, the most important rules are just as relevant in the snow as they are in conquering our everyday challenges.

When was the last time you reached a mountain summit, whether outdoors or in life?

He is comparing reaching a summit in life to climbing a mountain. I think what caught my eye was the statement about sitting on the mountain top. That brought a part of my own life to memory. I sat on a mountain top once but it wasn't Mt.Shasta. It was a small mountain in the Cedar Breaks area of Southern Utah and it was only a half mile hike from the road. However, I hiked my mountain and let it all hang out. I climbed my mountain in the nude. I sat on my mountain top in the nude. I heard my echo yelling back at me in the nude.

Scott gives the following advice for mountain climbing and life:

Pack light...I certainly did that.

Take one step at a time...you try to take two steps at one time and you'll fall on your butt, nude or not.

Don’t go at it alone...disagree here...not to excited about a lot of people seeing me in the nude.

Listen to the experts...actually I wasn't to interested in hearing about other people hiking in the nude.

Slow down...well duh, you cannot walk fast over sharp rocks with bare feet.

Look back and take in the view...check for Forest Rangers while your at it.

Save some energy for the trip down...now there is some good advice. No one wants to spend the night nude and on top of a mountain. (at least I don't)

Getting to the top is optional...I don't think so...why would I want to walk around a forest in the nude and not claim victory over a dumb mountain.

Getting down is mandatory...double duh...if you cannot get down, don't climb the tree.

Failure is a part of the process...OK, get out of the car, take you clothes off, shiver for a couple seconds, put your clothes back on and wait for a warmer day.

“It is not the mountains we conquer but ourselves.” ~Sir Edmund Hillary

I absolutely agree Sir Hillary.

Running around in the trees and rocks is awesome and to stand nude above a canyon and listen to your echo screaming the call of the wild in the nude is an experience few will ever experience.

Eat your heart out Scott.

half a book

2010-08-09T18:11:00.000-07:00

I am half done with three books and one life time. My goal is to get all the way done with my life time and as for the books...who knows. It is really great to tell one and all that I am writing a book and when I say I am writing three books they are really impressed. Now if I were to finish one or two or maybe all three books then I would have to see if anyone would publish them.

That is what creates my problem. If they are finished and no one will publish them I would have to tell people that they are only half done because to tell the truth would make me look like a bad writer. (which I am)

Therefore my solution is to say my books are only half done but I am working on them. I think that comes from my grandmother who used to say "half a book is better than none." (whatever that means)

Thank you

2010-08-01T11:10:00.000-07:00

Thank you, thank you....wow, I'm..ah..so nervous...I don't know what to say...ah....

This award means a lot to me. I am ...ah...truly..honored...but..I..don't deserve all of the ah...credit. I..want to..ah..thank my..ah..high school instructor for..ah...teaching me the basics of ..oh..I am..so nervous...ah..the basics..of cooking. Ah..having my ahh..."Egg on Toast"...oh dear...what am...I..trying to..ah..say?..ah..yes......recipe chosen as..ah "diet plate of the year"...is....oh dear..is a great..ah...honor..thank you

Egg on Toast
135 calories

to those that strugled through my acceptance speech..

ah..thank you very much

the letter

2010-07-25T07:57:00.000-07:00

the letter is gone

no one

cares anymore

email and twit

or texting and facebook

have replaced it

maybe its good

maybe its bad

I will never be sure

but I don't twit nor text nor face

I'm still hoping a letter
will show up at my place

source

2010-07-18T20:53:00.000-07:00

from whence it all began

an explosion creating

an expanding universe

like the seed of man

exploding in the womb

creating yet anther universe

within the life of woman

is our universe really just

celestial sperms racing to

penitrate a celestial seed

in the ovary of space

and we only

the ions of the atoms

of eternal creation

if so

will the creation be

made of green cheese

lightning & God

2010-07-18T00:05:00.000-07:00

First the lightning and then count, one thousand one, one thousand two, one thousand three and on. One second for every one onethousand. One mile from the lightning for every second. Ten seconds until the sound of thunder and its's ten miles away. First the lightning and hope to God there is a least one second until the thunder. If not, first the lightning, then the thunder and then we acquire a fox hole desire for the grace of God.

Linda May

2010-07-11T01:30:00.000-07:00

I guess the thing to do here is nominate a mother, a child or maybe a famous person that has done something awesome. Any nomination of this type would be great and wonderful. We can all think of someone to fulfill the criteria. We can think of that perfect someone we have met or know or have seen on TV but I would like to nominate someone I have never met.

I nominate Linda May from Australia. She subtitles her blog "what is in my heart and head" and that is what she writes. There are no "airs" and no "pretensions". She writes what she feels and what she sees. I always leave her blog feeling good about the world and the people in it. Thank you Linda May for being the salt of the earth. You are a person I would like to call "friend".

If I should die

2010-07-05T21:49:00.000-07:00

"If I should die think only this of me"......

that in you I found love

a place to hide my heart

a place to store my poems

should you find my soul asleep

open your heart

my love is there

my poetry is for you lips

when you look to the wind

listen with your heart

my love for you will speak from the clouds

because it if forever burned upon eternity

me

2010-07-04T09:44:00.000-07:00

if you would care

to look into the depths

of me

please takes some notes

and tell me

what you see

I get confused

trying to see

what is really me

yesterday and beyond

I thought I was

what I was

and now

looking into the glass

was is not there

but someone

different looks

at me

I hope it it

the person

I've always strived to be

naner...naner...naner...I am smarter than you

2010-07-02T13:35:00.000-07:00

I understand that liberals are more intelligent than conservatives.

At least that is what some liberals are touting. (Thom Hartmann, KTLK, 1150 L.A.)

His claim is that the latest study show lib's I.Q average 105 vs. conserv's I.Q. average 95 or some such drivel.

Word from the underground is that our new ruling party is going follow the path of Nazi Germany and create a new race of Super Liberals.

Conservatives will not be allowed to procreate.

Those that want to help father the new Race of "ugly Americans" can apply on line at
"we are smarter than you.org.uhg.bs".

Have your I.Q. credentials ready.

Writer's observation.....those that think they are smarter than you always want to tell you how to live and what you can and cannot do. I prefer the dumb ass that lets me choose those things by myself.

yenta...yenta...yenta

2010-06-29T07:45:00.000-07:00

"If you really want to hear about it".....ask Donnetta. My God that lady has more dirt hidden under her mind than God removed from the Grand Canyon. She knows everything about everybody. Why it was just yesterday that she was telling me about Harry and Martha. Seems like Harry's wife and Martha's husband are the only ones in town that do not know what Harry and Martha have been up to. And speaking of that, did you know the Jenny's daughter Harrietta is with child? Dam sure I'm right. I heard it from Millie when I was getting my hair done. No, it wasn't that ugly little Smith boy. It was Julie's boy Stephen. The real truth is that he spiked her punch and violated her when she passed out. At least that's the story that Jenny is telling but I happen to know the real real truth..........

swapping places

2010-06-27T12:15:00.000-07:00

My oh my, being able to swap with someone has a lot of mystical thoughts and ideas attached. But one must beware of a trip fraught with perils. One day when I was a much youger man and full of lust I swapped a pretty young thing for one with a more buxom bust. I thought my pleasures would grow with the size of her bust but her mouth was more than capable of dampening my lust. So listen to me before you make the swap. What you already have and what you already are may just be one hell of a lot better than wishing on a star.

perfect until further notice

2010-06-21T19:26:00.000-07:00

surely you jest when you say
"nobody's perfect"
there has to be
a man...a woman
a person maybe two
who fill that slot

I was sure I would find
the one who said that I'm not
somewhere over a hill
but that was not to be

those that say
I'm not perfect
have disappeared
or maybe they're behind a tree

so I will always be perfect
Until they show
and prove to me

that I'm not
the perfect person
I profess to be

birth

2010-06-19T22:44:00.000-07:00

There are many different types of births. Last night I witnessed a different type of birth. It was the birth or maybe the rebirth of people both young and old that had not been able to complete their high school education. I witnessed the graduation ceremony of extended education students. People from their early 20's to their mid 6o's graduating from high school. For me it was an awesome experience to see these people being "reborn" to a new life by getting their high school degrees. They have a new chance at life and the desire to better themselves. Good for them. I hope they all go on to get their college degrees. It takes guts to go back and start over. My hearty congratulations to all 1000 of them.

memory & ads

2010-06-18T17:06:00.000-07:00

The prompt for S.S. last week was a poem about getting old and gray. Of course I posted some wiseacre comment about not being a hero and then proceded to other posts to read what they came up with and then comment. There are two reasons for reading and commenting on other posts. One is that I am truly interested on how others interpret the prompt. The second and maybe the most important is that I hope that others will read and comment on what I have to say. Some do and some do not. I undertand tht it takes a lot of time to read and comment so I am very happy if just a few respond. I do not always have the time to respond to those that stop by my blog.

But commenting is not what I want to talk about. It is the verification and waiting for the writer to allow the comment to be viewed. That is where the old and gray comes in. I can not remeber if I have commented so sometimes I comment 2 or 3 times which can be a little embarrasing.

My next problem is the ads. I know all the blogs have some type of ad in hopes of making some money. I have ads on my blog. The ads that make me mad are the ones that come up when you are trying to post some nice words. I just went to one blog and had to watch a short video before I could comment. I shouldn't have waited to comment but I did. Then I was going to say something nasty, but I didn't. However, that will be the last time I will wait to respond. I will just put the site on my "not worth it list".

I really do like to read and respond to what has been written but like I said, that takes time and I do not think you are being fair if I have to wait for ads to load add long songs to load before I can read your blog. I am only interested in your words.

Is there anyone else out there with the same issues? Chime in and let me know. Am I the only nay-sayer?

PS - is there anyone out there that would be interested in having constructive crital responses as a good thing. I would like for once to have someone tell me I could improve if.....or just maybe diagree with what I have to say.

Little Timmy Rhobuch

2010-06-16T15:46:00.000-07:00

I was seven or eight or maybe nine, I really can’t remember, it’s been such a long time. Timmy’s gone I heard them say. We can’t find him anywhere.

The neighbors searched as neighbors do and the police came as they always do but Timmy was gone and we were scared.

My dad found Timmy, blue and quiet, among the tangled weeds of the water ditch. Everyone was sorry and cried for Little Timmy Rhobuch and Timmy’s dad and mom wept tears that troubled my mind.

I went to see his tiny body in his tiny coffin in his house next to mine. I saw his sweet chubby face that could not smile and his curly blond hair that could not move and I had to touch and I had to feel.

So, I laid my hand upon his face and did not find a child of two, only a face of stone.

I was seven or eight or maybe nine when little Timmy Rhobuch's chubby face of stone startled my hand and etched my mind.

gsbatty

Follow the story of 'Himshee', the mind taker

why's everybody picking on me?

2010-06-15T08:58:00.000-07:00

"When you are old and grey
and full of sleep”
is what he said
to blog upon.
I said. "why pick on me?

Even though the furnace is
growing old
and getting cold
the embers still glow
with plenty of show
and even if
I do sleep a lot

I still have plenty of words

hidden somewhere

under my cot

carry on tuesday

my hero

2010-06-13T22:32:00.000-07:00

when the time requires

that a super person be near

I always wiggle and squirm

and recoil in fear

I know I am not the man

that they will want to call

because the world needs

real heros to save the day

and I just do not have the nerve

or the will

so if it's a hero you want

call someone else

and send me the bill

why poetry

2010-06-04T12:27:00.000-07:00

poetry

the words of another

expressing

the feelings we live

but uable

to express ourselves

gsbatty

an old wooden fence

2010-06-02T22:32:00.000-07:00

I sat on an old wooden fence and got a sliver or two but I was never sure from where they came. Maybe it was when I fell to the left or maybe it was when I fell to the right. Or maybe it was when I climbed back on that the slivers jabbed me in the behind.

I tried to stay upon the fence but a voice from the right and a voice from the left with words that were filled with cherry pies and promises and lies would knock me off again.

I fell again and got back on that old wooded fence wondering where their honesty had gone. And then a thought came over me. They are only after my vote with their lies and cherry pies.

I needed to climb back upon that old wooden fence again.

butterfly message

2010-06-02T07:21:00.000-07:00

When I was six or seven or maybe eight I was with my dad on the patio and we had just ate when an orange and gold and black butterfly came gliding by. He sat his wings and tiny feet upon my knee as if he were there just to visit me.

I started to shoo him off but dad held my hand and said, "don't". "He is a messenger sent from God." "A messenger from God." I replied? "Why would God send a messenger to me?"

"Maybe he needs your help," my dad replied.

"How can I help God," I asked?

"I do not know, that is between you and God," my dad replied. "The next time you talk to him, just ask"

I never asked.

I wonder what God wanted?

confucius say

2010-05-30T20:26:00.000-07:00

I gave my German Schnauzer,

"Lo-Jack", a "Chinese Fortune Cookie"

but I forgot to take the "fortune" out.

Now whenever I give him

the command "speak.

He tells me a "Confucius" proverb

in German

I do not understand German

egg face

eggs for breakfast
anyone
cooked anyway you like
stop your blog
have a cup of whatever
and wipe the egg off your face
but not me
I intend to rub it in
care to join me
anyone

ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ

2010-05-14T12:57:00.000-07:00

Old Grizz is hibernating in his writers cave attempting to be a serious writer. I will devote what ever time I have to "Burned Toast and Coffee". Drop in from time to time and say hello. I will hello you back.

Courage

2010-05-09T17:01:00.000-07:00

I wrote

and I felt

I felt courage

courage

has always been there

courage

is always there.

why didn’t I feel courage before?

why couldn’t I feel courage before?

courage has nudged me for decades

I was afraid to nudge courage back

courage would not go away

courage haunted me

I knew not what courage was

courage was in a place I cared not look

courage was in a place I dared not look

I never thought to look for courage

through my pen

through my grit

through my gut

I never dared to look for courage

through my pen,

through my grit

through my gut

Not until

I wrote and I wrote and I wrote

about

the things that are

the things that aren’t

about

the things that may

the things that might

that

courage was felt

courage spoke to me

with

words from a raining cloud.

courage spoke to me

with

words from sizzling lightning

burning across the sky

blazing a path

that I was afraid to walk.

my written words

dripping blood and ink

awakened

my mind,

my eyes,

my heart

my soul.

courage spoke to me

and now

I have

the strength

to walk the path

of sizzling lightning.

I am

not afraid

of falling any more.

only the young

2010-05-06T14:46:00.000-07:00

Only the young have such moments

moments of discovery

the touch of her skin

the beat of her heart

the breath of her life

the joy of first love

once the moments have passed

the wonder can only live

in your mind

when you are young

enjoy

her touch

her heart beat

her breath

your first love

cheerish those moments

they will only come once

Me.....cook?

2010-04-25T05:33:00.000-07:00

cook the dinner

for how many?

really..32?

important for you?

lets see

2 loaves of bread

1 pound of chedder please

butter

frying pan

lots of heat

the only thing

I can cook

grilled cheese

3 dot life

2010-04-24T17:23:00.000-07:00

train...girl...boy...

groans...tears...sorrow

moving...longing...waving...

whistle...movement...sadness

back...meet...promise

farewells...necessary...again

hearts...change...break

why...how...who

groans...tears...hate

what changed

in her heart

to break his

Little ole me, A joy?

2010-04-20T21:02:00.000-07:00

"Well, well, well, I do declare," the Southern Rose blushed. "Little ole fragile me, a joy forever. Can you imagine that?"

"Not you, little miss bighead," the grouchy old thorn growled. "He was talking to the pretty lady. He doesn’t even know you exist."

"Well, Mr. pointy head", the Southern Rose said, "Miss Lottie just said how beautiful I was and how much she loved such a beautiful rose".

"Oh for Pete’s sake you might as well be a blond rose for all the sense that makes." the old thorn snorted. "Do you know what forever means?" "You'll be dried up and gone and I'll still be here"

"Under your belief I'm a thing of beauty, because I'll be here when you’re gone and you will have no idea if I'm forever or not," the nasty thorn chortled.
"Well," the Southern Rose came back, "you may be here forever but you certainly aren't a thing of beauty."

"Oh Beau, Miss Lottie said, "Will you pick that beautiful Southern Rose for me? I will cherish its beauty forever."
"Well if that's not the damndest thing I ever heard," said the jealous old thorn.
"Well, well, well, I do declare, the Southern Rose blushed. ”Little ole fragile me, a joy forever. Can you imagine that?"

for Carry on Tuesday

Tongue Biting

2010-04-14T19:04:00.000-07:00

I bit my tongue to keep from speaking. However, when I do something like biting my tongue, sometimes I go beyond the think mode. When someone says “I bit my tongue” it usually means that they held back a comment. They did not make their comment because they did not want to offend someone else’s beliefs, thoughts, ideas, religious convictions, or political views.

I always think that is a stupid thing to do but I do it all the time. Why start an argument, I say to myself. The issue or the point isn’t worth an argument or a response. What really crawls in my craw is that I not only keep ”mum”, a lot of the time I agree even if I do not agree. I am not sure why. Maybe it is to keep the peace or maybe I am not really sure of my position. Maybe I am leery that I’ll have to explain my reason for disagreeing.

On the occasion that I am speaking of I really did bite my tongue. On this occasion I was discussing politics with my bother-in-law. I am somewhat conservative but he is off the deep end downright stupid conservative. He believes whatever flies around the internet. I believe most of what flies around the net is miss-statements if not out and out lies but he is sure it is the “gospel”.

We were “discussing” at a family gathering. I was getting hot and he was getting hotter and I started to express my views in a strong tone when Nancy, my wife, said, “Stan”. I stopped and I bit my tongue.

Really, I physically bit my tongue. I bit it with the teeth in my own mouth. I put my tongue between my teeth and I chewed or chomped. I must have thought it was a piece of steak of something.

When I was young my first and now my ex and also deceased mother-in-law fed me cow’s tongue one night. I didn’t care for it. It had the texture of liver and the taste of “gamey” meat. Gamey meat comes from animals that have run a lot before they were killed. Their blood is ripe in the muscle and it comes out in the taste of the meat when it is cooked.

My tongue didn’t taste like steak or cow tongue or any other meat that I have eaten. It tasted like blood. The only good thing that came out of having a cut, swollen tongue is that it convinced me that I never want to be a vampire.

deadline

2010-04-11T17:46:00.000-07:00

The word "deadline" was first used in a journalistic sense around 1920 and most people assumed it meant that "if you missed your time line the editer might kill you."

But the word really goes back to "Andersonville", a civil war prison of hell ran by the Confederate Army. The "deadline" was a line 19 feet from the stockade wall and any prisoner crossing that line was assumed to be escaping and was shot on the spot. The conditions were bad at Andersonville. I found the following quote.

July 9, 1864, Sgt. David Kennedy of the 9th Ohio Cavalry wrote in his diary;

"Wuld that I was an artist & had the material to paint this camp & all its horors or the tounge of some eloquent Statesman and had the privleage of expresing my mind to our hon. rulers at Washington, I should gloery to describe this hell on earth where it takes 7 of its ocupiants to make a shadow."

A "deadline" at Andersonville seems to have a much deadlier meaning than a journalistic "deadline".

It seems that over the years not too much has changed. Journalists still think their "deadlines" are more important than a soldiers "deadline". Maybe that is true if they are war correspondents. Sometimes their "deadlines" are the same as a soldiers

If I am ever in the position that requires getting something written on time I am going to call it my "lifeline". Afterall, a timeline requirement should mean I will get paid for it.

posted for "Sunday Scribblings"

how long....

2010-04-10T22:26:00.000-07:00

Low long is long? I have been staring at the ceiling for what seems like hours. How long? I don't have a clue. The ceiling has taken my mind. It's one of those holey plaster board types with water stains. I see cob webs from the corner of my eye but the water stains make me ignore the cob webs. They are not important. It is important to keep focused on the stains. They seemed to tell me that my life depends on my looking at those damned stains. I stare until they start to attack me. I become woozy. They are choking me, draining the life out of me.

"Has he awoke yet?" "No, he's still in coma. It's probably better. With his injuries and the way we have had to pin his head to that board he is better off sleeping. He won't be albe to move his head for at least 6 months." I just gave him another shot of morphine.

for Carry on Tuesdays

Grizz’s Rib

2010-04-06T07:20:00.001-07:00

It began Sunday evening when I was trying to write something for my journaling class. I had chosen to write about the clash between the feminine and masculine issues in my mental makeup. I could not write anything that I was happy with. I worked until 2 am and finally gave up. The next morning I was late in getting up. While I was showering I started writing the article in my mind. I usually take a five minute shower but on that morning it lasted forty-five minutes while my mind wrote and edited.

I left the shower, dried off and went into the bedroom to dress. My wife asked me if I left any hot water and of course my reply was that there was plenty of hot water. Her answer was a mild threat which I of course ignored. It was something like "if my shower is cold, I'll get even". My mistake was not listening. My failure was that I did not believe her.

The next morning I was enjoying a nice hot relaxing shower. I noticed a shadowy form in a blue flannel night gown entering the bath room. My mind did not trigger any alarm. I had failed to listen to her threat and made the mistake of not being alert. My hot relaxing shower was interrupted with the full force of Niagara Falls coming down on my head and body. Oh oh oh, damn that's cold I groaned and the shadowy flanneled night gown giggled and laughed with glee. I told you I would get even she chirped. That glass of water came right from the refrigerator. .
My "Rib" won again

For Carry on Tuesday

My mentor

2010-04-03T20:00:00.001-07:00

Mentoring comes from the soul

only the special

can teach those that need

they come from a special place

they give their knowledge

they give their skill

they give their hearts

you and I

can learn and grow

you and I

can be better

to my special mentor

from the bottom of my heart

I thank you

Amy Lusky Barth

joys of love

2010-03-28T18:41:00.000-07:00

We are each the love of someone’s life
and
the life of someone's love

our love embraces our lover
our lover embraces our love

we are surrounded by the love of others
a mother's love
a father's love
a God's love

If the ties of these loves are broken
our souls turn to stone
our hearts to tears
our tears to rust

carry on Tuesdays

Alchemy

2010-03-26T16:07:00.000-07:00

Little known to the world of walking bipeds there is a magic bear named Bartolome who lives in the forest of the black troll. Bartolome has the power to grant eternal life but only does so for creatures of the forest. Bartolome usually saves his powers for those of his own kind.

However, on one cold rainy spring day a Grizzly old hunter dressed in a bears coat and smelling like an bear himself crawled into the cave of Bartolome and whispered in a low grunting voice that he was about to die. "Bartolome," he said. ""Will you grant me eternal life?" Bartolome being half asleep and cold did not recognize the the old hunter as being a human. "What do you have for me?", Bartolome said. The old hunter was quick to reply, "I will provide you fish and berries for the next year." Well thought the old Bear, that's not a bad deal. "OK", Bartolome replied, "but for a year of fish and berries I will only give you a year of life". The old hunter thought that after he fed Bartolome for a year they would be good friends and he would get his eternal life. "OK, the hunter replied. "It's a deal."

Bartolome told the old hunter to take his clothes off. "Why?" asked the hunter. "For my power to work you must be as you entered the world", replied Bartolome. When the hunter was naked Bartolome realized that the hunter had tricked him. Bartolome was furious. "You tricked me", he roared. "But the animal world is not devious like you humans" he bellowed. "I will hold up my end of the bargain." "You will have your one year of guaranteed life." "But if you miss one day of fish and berries you will die instantly", Bartolome warned.

Bartolome opened his pouch of magic stones and selected a green and and a blue one. When he struck them together a flash of golden light surrounded the old hunter. Then Bartolome selected a black and white stone. When he struck the black and the white stone together the power of the earth mixed with the golden light and as one they entered the old hunters body. "There", said Bartolome. "you have your one year of life." "But, beware, my power is only good as far as your health is concerned". I cannot guarantee you a safe passage in life."

"Now", said Bartolome. "While you get dressed I will go to the stream for water." After the old bear left the cave the old hunter began to eye the old bear's magic pouch. If I can steal those stones he thought, I can give myself eternal life and I won't need that stupid old bear. He put his hand inside the pouch to steal the stones and found one other item in the bag. That item was a large Diamond Back rattle snake that Bartolome used in his magic incantations.

The smoke of burning venom when mixed with the color of the clashing stones was the final touch of magic that gave eternal life. The poison of the venom when injected into his hand was the final touch that gave the old hunter eternal death.

The Alchemist came to turn

my heart of iron

into a heart of gold

but God stepped in

and turned my heart

to love

written for Sunday scribblings

sing along with me

2010-03-21T20:50:00.000-07:00

A song is but a little thing........And yet what joy it is to sing!

Oh how awesome these words are to me

a song is my soul

a song is my being

music is everything

music is like

a tree

the roots of life

for me

oh how I wish

could sing

I croak and croon

and

ribbit like a frog

or howl

in the shower

a dog

baying at

the

moon

never falter

never quit

how lucky

your are

you do not

have to listen

to
a croaky old voice
that can never be
silenced

written for and dedicated to Kieth at Carry on Tuesday

Demands

2010-03-21T11:25:00.000-07:00

This is a lovely prompt and one that is easy for "Old Grizz".

A roll of charmin would be lovely. I would really like to know how soft it really is.

Also, since bears really do "@^#$#*^" in the woods I would require a side room that is decorated like a forest.

Nothing fancy. It would not have to be a Redwood forest. A simple pine forest would do just fine.

hiatus

2010-01-13T18:25:00.000-08:00

Old Grizz has decided to put this blog to

bed for a while

and guest write from time to time on

taters, maters words and water

we are devoting more time attempting to write a book

We will go back to Sunday Scribblings and Carry on Tuesday

from time to time

dare

2009-12-19T19:03:00.000-08:00

Dare walked into the room. Every head turned her way. What the hell does she want? No one invited her and she sure as hell wasn't wanted. She could only mean trouble for all concerned. She moved slowly forward. Every man held his breath. Some turned their heads away like they did way back in grade school. If they did not look at her then maybe she would not touch them. Her touch was sure death. She moved closer. Her walk was more of a glide and she seemed to float as she moved towards them. She moved towards the left side of the room and the men on the right breathed a sigh of relief. To bad for the guy she chose. That was his problem. This was no time to be hero. They usually put a hero's medal on his coffin, not his chest. She stopped in front of the town drunk who was surprisingly sober right then. A cold chill ran down his spine but he didn't shiver. He did not want them to know how afraid he was. It did not matter that they all had the same fear. He would not shame himself. From somewhere he found the courage he had lost as a young man, He stood tall and looked her straight in the eye. Her eyes were blue and cold as steel. Her lips thin and hard. She reached out to touch him. He was the one she had chosen. He did not cower or flinch. His eyes became hard and he actually made her stop and step back. Dare became unsure of herself. No one had challenged her before. They knew the possible outcome but this man, this drunk who she was sent to take, had changed. He was no longer a drunk. He was a man again and a man to be feared. A man that can conquer his inner devils was not one she wanted to challenge. She dared not touch him. She turned and walked away.

brave

2009-12-12T22:32:00.000-08:00

His guts were aching with fear. Run he thought. His legs froze. His mind screamed at him to run. He couldn't go forward because of the death he faced. He couldn't run because he would be a coward. He froze, unable to act He could not be a hero and he would not be a coward. He faced the death of war or the thousand deaths of a coward. He heard the shell scream but never heard it explode.
His mother received a letter telling her how brave he had been.

i am coming

2009-12-07T22:52:00.000-08:00

I am coming

soaring to join you

writing your name in the sky

your love is all I ever wanted

your name is there for all to know

though the winds try to blow it away

it will remain there for ever and ever

it is written with the blood of my heart

my love for you is for all eternity

the wind is in my soul

the earth waits

I am coming

Carry inTuesday

weird

2009-12-05T21:13:00.000-08:00

Junsend ocrav ortool

Mithrst inisano Scangsio

glyri collisan aphteted

mizan ourristu aphotet

gontl ingpro

an old Grizzly Bear incantation recited just before eating an incompetant hunter or before posting a comment on someone's blog

game

2009-11-28T18:24:00.000-08:00

I don't have a lot of game unless Cross words and Blogging are on the list, but I'm married to a very gamey lady. Noo, she doesn't stink. She is a super female stud.
She plays volleyball 3 times a week and soccer every Saturday and Sunday. We are spending this week end in San Diego so she can play in a soccer tournament. She turned 60 on Thanksgiving day. She has beaten Colon Cancer and has had major knee reconstruction. Yes she is one lady with a lot of game. The good news is she is in great shape. The bad new is she can kick my butt if I get out of line.

post for Sunday Scribblings

carry on keats

2009-11-22T19:42:00.000-08:00

even though

my heart aches

and a drousy numbness

pains my senses

I continue to seek

the depth of your jade green eyes

the pulse of your soul

beating with mine

I seek the touch

of your hand

the feel of your back

the heat of your breath

please

forgive me

please

come back

for Carry on Tuesday

beauty

2009-11-21T22:32:00.000-08:00

to the young

beauty is flesh.

the world turns on

the flesh of a woman,

this is causing global warming.

to the old

beauty is the world

beauty is bold

but not bold enough

to stop

global warming

you young peope

need to

cool it

the oracle of the duck

2009-11-15T09:53:00.000-08:00

When young and untested

he could not figure them out

When old he was uncontested

never went with out

Today he sits on his butt

in a cold and rickity hunting hut

He knows they will come

he knows where from

The morning is butt cold

his butt is bony and old

He lights a sterno

that turns into an inferno

The hut is on fire

the ducks fly higher

He may be able to

forecast a duck

but when it comes to fire

he is a total muck

God is Great....and funny

2009-11-12T16:01:00.000-08:00

I got this via the net.....Old Grizz could not resist passing it along.
An atheist was walking through the woods.
What majestic trees!

What powerful rivers!

What beautiful animals!
He said to himself.

As he was walking along the river he heard rustling in the bushes behind him.

He turned to look and saw a 7 foot Grizzly bear charging towards him

He ran as fast as he could up the path but the bear was getting closer. He turned to look again and tripped and fell.
He rolled over to pick himself up but the Grizzly bear was right on top of him.

At that instant the atheist cried out
"Oh my God!"
Time stopped. The bear froze. The forest was silent.
A bright light shone upon the man.
A voice came out of the sky.

"You have denied my existence for all these years. Do you expect me to help you now?"

Am I to count you as a believer?

The atheist looked into the light and replied, "It would be hypocritical of me to suddenly ask you to treat me as a christian now. But, Perhaps you could make the bear a christian".

Very well said the voice.

The light went out. The sounds of the forest resumed. The bear dropped his right paw and brought both paws together, bowed his head and spoke.

"Lord bless this food, for which I am about to receive from thy bounty through Christ our Lord, Amen

the interview

2009-11-08T21:49:00.000-08:00

I made it. I got the interview. There were two of them. Both of them with PhD's in Physics and heading up a solid fuel research program at Stanford University. I had no idea why I had to interview with them. My job, if I got it, would be a minor lab position at the test facility. I had been to the facility and interviewed with the plant manager. He told me I would get the job but just had to interview with the two men heading up the project.

I was nervous as hell and blew the interview. I was so far out of my league it was a joke. They asked me stupid questions like, why won't an airplane fly on the moon? I was so nervous I couldn't have told them why they fly on earth.

I was really depressed. I wanted that job. It was within the field I was studying for in college. I wanted to be a chemical engineer. The job was for the summer and it would have helped my finances tremendously.
I moped about for the next few weeks working evenings at McDonald's and feeling sorry for myself.

The news was scary and grim. "Solid Fuel Test Plant explodes" killing 2 and injuring 5. That's the job I didn't get. Would I have been killed? Did the person that got the job screw up? I will never know. But one thing I do know, some times blowing an interview is the best thing you can do.

shame

2009-10-25T19:56:00.001-07:00

Fool me once shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. This is an old adage I've heard for years. But what is shame but a feeling you have when you get caught or fooled. Nothing can cover a man or woman so completely as the fog of shame engulfing guilty souls when they are caught. It is strange to me that guilt can walk so proud until it is discovered.

junk and I

2009-10-19T21:45:00.001-07:00

I caught my junk yard dog............. eating my junk food........... inside of my junk car.......... right after he had .......... ripped up my junk mail................... which was not so junky after all.................. because he ate my junk bonds .................... but unfortuneately for him................... he also ate some his junk dog food................ I created using junk science.................. which made him sick......................... but I was able.............. to save my ............. junk yard dog ................ with an................... Old Grizz...................... junket pudding...................

fatherly advice

2009-10-17T18:43:00.000-07:00

In my younger and more vulnerable years my father gave me some advice that I never bothered to pay attention to.

I was not and am not any different than any other son. Sons always know more than than their fathers. Everyone knows that. We all go through our growing pains being pains in the asses. It is not until we've gone over fool's hill that it dawns on us that the "old man" was not so dumb after all. All dads give advice. Some give a lot of advice and some give only what they think is necessary. My dad was of the latter group. He didn't talk much but every now and then, when we were off alone somewhere, he would offer my some words that he felt were important. On one occasion when I was in my early teens we were sitting on the patio and he offered me these words of wisdom. "Son, I know you're starting to take an interest in the young ladies and I think I need to offer some words of advice.
Always treat girls with respect.

Never do anything that would make your mother ashamed of you and above all, never unzip your pants with a girl you wouldn't marry." That was it. He never spoke another word to me about sex.

Well if you read the first sentence of the blog you already know that I didn't listen.

I am not going to dance any skeletons out of my closet and tell all of the sordid details but I certainly would have been better off if I had listened. I would just like to tell my dad that he was right. It is to bad that I couldn't have said that to him while he was still alive.

bump

2009-10-11T20:53:00.000-07:00

bump in the night
is not as strange
as you might think

you never know
whence the bump
comes or goes

some say ghosts
some say fright

but I say
a bump in
the night

is only a dream
or a rat
maybe even
a washing machine

but never a ghost
or a ghoul can
go bump

only a wife
mad as hell
can make a bump

oh hell
I was confused with
the word thump.

that is what it really was
a thump in the night
from a wife
afraid of ghosts

when I tried to
sneak in late.
she heard bump bump
I felt thump thump

zip zip

2009-10-04T22:26:00.000-07:00

He couldn't keep his eyes off of her lips. They bugged him. God how awful they looked. Why would a women paint her lips that way?
Didn't she realize she looked like a damned whore? Did she think men liked that look except those that knew it was a sign she was easy. Those lips were like a neon sign advertising a product...SEX. Come on over here guys, I have what you want and I am willing to share. Was she a whore?
It did not matter too him whether she sold it or gave it away, she was still a whore and shouldn't be allowed in this neighborhood. He was fuming and decided to call the police. Just then a man came out of a store and went up to her and started talking. They turned to walk away. He had to intervene. He could not let that whore do business in his neighborhood.

Hey, he called out to the couple. "I'm calling the police and having that women arrested for prostitution and if you don't want get arrested with her you better get the hell out of here".

Are you crazy, the man replied? This is my wife and she is dressed up for a Halloween party. If you call the police I'll have you arrested.

Damn, he thought, will I ever be able to zip my lip?

one plus one equals one

2009-09-29T21:40:00.000-07:00

Two souls with but a single thought,

Two hearts that beat as one

two souls - two hearts

beating thinking

one mind

one heart

one

soul

one body

one clone

body of blood

genetic blood

mind of thought

genetic thought

one soul one clone

two hearts

one real

one clone

one life

one soul

one copy

one ghoul

for Carry on Tuesday

curds drive me to drive

2009-09-26T10:07:00.000-07:00

In the city of Beaver, a little town in Southern, Utah there is a world class cheese factory, the " DFA Cache Valley Cheese Mart" that sells fresh Curds. I never drive though Beaver without getting my fix for fresh "Curds" the "Squeaky Cheese".

In fact I have driven there from Las Vegas just to get my fix for "Squeaky Cheese". If you have never had a bag of Curds and a cup of coffee by yours side as your are driving up or down the road, you have never been in heaven. Bite into a clump of Curd and it squeaks as your mouth closes. The muted salty cheese taste is to never be forgotten. A sip of hot black coffee with the hum of the tires on the road completes the reverie.
There is something about fresh curds that hits my taste buds right in the butt.

Yep, when you say cheese to me, I don't smile. I get in my car and drive.

hungry

2009-09-18T22:40:00.000-07:00

hungry was a friend of mine

and was with me all of the time.

He stayed with me

through thick and thin.

he would never stray far

and

would always return home again.

and when I begged him to leave

and set me free

he would always laugh

and

flash his ugly grin

and

kick my gut

with an ugly twist

his goal to leave me

crying for a crumb

of life

and

as I crawled and begged

for more

he would laugh and giggle

and laugh some more

if you want some food

you filthy swine

here take mine

just

lick it up off the

goddamned

floor

Sunday Scribblings

tattoos

2009-09-12T08:11:00.000-07:00

I have never been been a friend of tattooing. The reasons do not matter. At least the original reasons do not. However, I am not a prude. If you want one, it's your body, do what you want with it.

In fact I have seen several tattoos that I like and I admit they fascinate me.

I am really fascinated with the ones on pretty girls. That's my problem. Sometimes I cannot keep from staring and it bugs me. I am beginning to think I am becoming a "dirty old man".

When I was a young man I trained myself to look a woman in the eye and not stare at her boobs. I actually achieved my goal and could tell you what color her eyes were.

However, now the ladies are tattooing their boobs and their butts and leaving enough exposed to get my attention. The tattoos start above the breasts or the butt and disappear beneath their sexy underwear of which they do not mind showing along with a lot of body parts that are also hard to ignore. Now I am getting old but I am not dead and it has become very difficult to keep my eyes from staring.

So, I propose the following. It should be a law that if a woman tattoos her breasts or her butt she must also have a pretty tattoo under each eye. This would help "dirty old men" like me keep their eyes where they belong.

the key

2009-09-05T10:21:00.000-07:00

The big day had arrived. Today they would give the car away.
It was a great promotion. Drive the new "Demeter". The latest beauty on the market. It was perfectly named for today's society. "Demeter" the Greek God of Agriculture and Grain symbolized the new "green" world. It got sixty-five miles per gallon of gas and seated five comfortably. The geese loved it. "Just get them to eat a few bites of grain and they would drive off in one." was Fat George's favorite saying. He would say it over and over in sales meetings. The geese were how he referred to and thought of customers.

The promotion was simple. Take a test drive and get your name in in the drawing for a new "Demeter". Twenty names were drawn for a chance at the "key". The one with the lucky "key" would drive off in a brand new car.

Free hot dogs and sodas for anyone coming in on the final day of the contest. Big discounts were offered on all cars. Fat George hadn't missed a trick. He got up on the stage and took the mike. He was ecstatic. This was his best promotion. This would be a great year even if they never sold another car.

OK folks, he said in the mike. The big day is here. One brand new "Demeter" for the lucky "key" holder.
There were twenty brand new cars and twenty excited winners of the drawing. Each one holding what they hoped would be the lucky "key". "Remember the one with the "key" that starts the car will drive it home today" Fat George bellowed.

He was at his best. "George's Car Sales is giving the car away absolutely free", he yelled in the mike. We will pay the registration, the taxes and give the lucky winner a full tank of gas".

OK it's time. Get in and try your key. Twenty winners with twenty "keys" opened a car door, got in, inserted and twisted their "key". Each one was praying they would be the lucky one.

They all started, every damn one of them. Every "winner" was a "winner". Twenty brand new "Demeters' absolutely free to twenty lucky winners. Fat George damn near fainted. What the hell's going on here he screamed. Fat George was giving away not one but twenty brand new "Demeter's"

Jimmy Schmitds, the car lot boy, stood at the back of the crowd laughing. "There, you fat bastard, I told you I would get even with you for firing me".

posted for "Sunday Scribblings"

the phone rings

2009-08-29T22:32:00.000-07:00

It was a wrong number that started it, the telephone ringing three times in the dead of night. Unfortunately the person that answers those rings has no way of knowing that it is a wrong number. The phone woke Tom and Dana up. Who could that be at this time of night? Tom rolled over and mumbled hello. No one responded. Hello he said, who is this? Still no answer and then the click of the other party hanging up. Who was it, Dana asked? I don't know, they hung up. Wrong number I guess. They both rolled over and tried to go back to sleep, but Tom couldn't. He wasn't supposed to be home that night. He had come home from his run a day early. His normal run put him in Phoenix on Wednesday and Thursday nights.

This week one of the accounts didn't have any freight so he deadheaded home early. He was wide awake. Recently he had been wondering if she had been cheating on him.

She could cheat so easy with him gone two nights each week. Was that her boy friend calling? The bug had been planted and it grew and festered the rest of the night. He got up early and got himself a beer. By the time Dana got up he was drunk and mad. He knew she had been cheating on him. He accused her. He wouldn't believe her. Who was he? How long? Then he hit her with a back hand that split her lip and sent her sprawling. He heard a noise behind him and turned. The bullet entered his chest, exploded his heart and tore a hole in his back the size of a fist. He was dead before his body hit the floor. God Dana said, what are you doing here? The killer replied, I knew he was suspicious when he answered the phone. I came to see if you were all right. This is perfect he said. You can say you killed him and claim self defense. He helped her off the floor and kissed her. My brother wasn't worth a damn he said, He's better off dead.

carry on tuesdays

panties, wine and sleep

2009-08-29T11:27:00.000-07:00

decided to take a shot at the new poetry blog.
objects of imitation
don't know why, but it was fun

wandering through
the silk and satin
these push up that
those cling tightly to it
they lift and firm
what the hell size
does she wear
                                                          gsbatty/2009

no one drinks wine alone
why not
it's my wine
I can do as I please
                                                               gsbatty/2009

asleep on the floor
don't care any more
the dam plane
is stuck
somewhere
                                                               gsbatty/2009

blue

2009-08-28T19:33:00.000-07:00

We were two
she and I

she was blue
I was lost

she was wild
I was shy

We became one
she and I

she was everywhere
she was everything

I was lost in she
she was lost in I

she permeated my world
The atmosphere was filled with her

I could feel her, sense her
as part of me

she blanketed me
like a warm summer breeze.

she surrounded me
engulfed me
caressed me

she lifted me.
she was I
I was she

Then we we were two
she and I

It was fun
when we were one

When we became
two

she was lost
I was blue

POETRY - Sunday Scribblings

to love or not to love

2009-08-26T22:02:00.000-07:00

They loved with a love that was more than love. Their passion was deep an unending. They lived for each other, truly the perfect love. No one else, nothing else, existed when they were together. They hated the times they had to be apart. They plotted secret meetings in the middle of the day. Sneaking away for an unneeded errands. Just a touch, a hug would help them get through the moment. Often the touch, the hug could not be broken leading to the the thrill of public sex. Coupling in places they could be seen or caught but rarely were they seen and if they were, they would giggle and disappear, melting into the busy world. They knew their love and their passion would last for ever. A love so deep and a passion so strong can also have a deep river of jealously flowing like the river Styx buried somewhere deep in the unsuspecting brain. A misspoken word, a missed rendezvous, a look, a smile at a pretty girl, a compliment by a handsome man, often lead to small suspicions and if not talked about they can grow and seethe and boil and fester. Those that can love so deeply are also those that can hate just as deeply. The love that was more than a love can turn into a hate that is more than a hate and it did with these two. Their jealousy grew but they were not the type to talk about their problems. Each knew that they were true to the love and passion and were sure the other was weak, faltering, looking for a forbidden touch. Their suspicions of each other festered in their minds and soon each was sure the other was planning to leave. Each began to miss the daily trysts. An excuse, a meeting, anything to avoid the other. Each would hurry home at night to see if the other would still be there. There love making was short. They were like two animals, mating because of mother nature. Each wanted the other to deny their couplings so they could confirm their inner knowledge. Neither would give in. They had sex every night. Quick functional sex. There was no emotion involved, only hard physical sex. Each acting as a prostitute. A deep hatred began to grow in their hearts. Each began to plan revenge, a perfect way to get even. Each began to plan the perfect murder. They became obsessed. When they got home they had their animal mating moment and hurried to their own personal computer. Each googled death, murder, poison and any other subjects that might help them in their plot for revenge. It is interesting how the mind works. Their minds seem to meld together in their desire to commit the perfect murder. Their computers searched the exact same subjects at almost the exact same time. Neither had a clue to what the other was doing. They were on a mission. The perfect murder. Should I get insurance...no that would be stupid...revenge, not money is my desire. Should I hire someone...no that's really stupid....Should I buy a gun....no, to obvious...Poison...no, to easy to trace...Medicine...the idea came to each mind as if they were listening to a lecture...."Viagra"....oh my God, they thought, I can kill with sex. Oh how easy will that be. Viagra, so easy to get from the net. Viagra sent in a plain wrapper to their places of work. Viagra, so easy to slip into a drink. A hot drink to mix the pill. Each made a potion of Viagra and boiling water. Each used 10 pills, more than enough they were sure to bring forth the revenge, the death of a cheating lover. Each chose Starbucks. On the fateful evening each said to the other almost as one "lets go to Starbucks for a Latte". Neither realizing that the other had also said it. They were too excited. It was like the honey moon night of two virgins. Each found a way to slip "their" potion into the others drink. They sipped for a few moments and then began to drink faster, Again almost as one the words "I'm horny,lets go home" came from both mouths. Again neither realizing the other had also said it. They were hot and ready before they left the shop. He showing his manhood alive and ready, she giggling and kissing his ear and neither caring about the show they were putting on. In fact they were glad they were making a scene. It would be perfect later when the other was dead. They were almost undressed before they went through the front door. They were into each other immediately. They both ground and pushed. Hot and sweaty, each screamed, "harder, faster", do it faster, I need it faster. 10 minutes, 15 minutes, 30 minutes and then an hour. The Viagra pushed them, gave them strength and stamina they never knew they had. They were both exhausted. Neither could figure out why the other was still alive. They collapsed in a heap, tangled together, Neither had climaxed. He began to giggle and then she began to laugh and then they really looked at each other for the first time since the jealousy began. I was trying to kill you he confessed. She laughed and also confessed. They talked, confessed and talked and that started a real love that truly was a love that was more than a love. Carry on Tuesdays

adults suck

2009-08-23T14:25:00.000-07:00

This subject is this old bear's favorite pet peeve. "When are you going to grow up"? "Act your age". "Do you know how old you are?" These question were hurled at me just last week from Mrs. Old Grizz. Why in the hell would I want to grow up? That's my standard answer. I never want to grow up. I never want to be an adult and by "God" I won't. To hell with the those that think I have to act in some "way". I refuse to give it up. "It" being my child behavior. I like to throw tantrums when I get caught with my fingers in the cookie jar. The greatest compliment I ever received was at my 50th high school reunion. One of the "Miss Prissy Pants" that believed her life had been so successful, (3 kids - doctor, lawyer, Indian chief), looked at me, batted her droopy mascaraed eyes and babbled, "you still haven't grown up, have you? This stupid blathering came during the session where everyone stands up and brags about how successful they have been. "Yahoo, look at me I have more money than you. My parents are better than your yours has been changed to "my kids are more successful than yours." I just stood up and said that I had been arrested more than any one else in the class and had sex with more women than any other guy there and finally all my kids were very happily incarcerated in one prison or another in 26 different states and that I sure was some kind of a record, thank you very much. I thought I was doing them all a favor. After all what do most adults want more than someone to look down on. No, not me. I never want to grow up. However, if I ever do, I want to be a cowboy or policeman or fire fighter or a astronaut or a school teacher for Sunday Scribblings

Shylo and Me

2009-08-17T21:20:00.000-07:00

posted for "Keith's COTtage" When a journey begins badly it rarely ends well is a damned good way to describe my trip to bury Shylo. I should have known that there would be trouble. They warned me to stay home. They warned me that I was to weak to make the drive, but I couldn't stay there. I had to go. I had to see her one last time. I left early because there was a 4 hour drive ahead of me. I had left her at a friends house while I had a Gall Bladder removed. I wasn't one of the lucky ones that got in and out in one day. They cut a hole in my gut that was eight inches long. That was after they had cut a hole in my belly button. Nasty, nasty, nasty the doc said. You had one ugly Bladder, we had to take it out it in pieces. I moaned and felt sorry for myself for the next week while I recovered. I got the phone call early in the morning. She was dead. She was my black schnauzer and the best dog I ever owned. It was like a boy and his dog while he was growing up. We were never apart from the time I bought her as a puppy until I left her that day. Seven years and we were never apart. She went every where I went. If she couldn't go, I didn't go. My eyes teared when I left her. Maybe that was that an omen. Maybe I should have known what was going to happen but I didn't. I wasn't worried about her. My friends loved dogs and I knew they would take good care of her. What I didn't know was that she would run away. I guess she was looking for me. It wasn't the cars fault, Shylo ran right in front of it. The driver took her to the vet but she died on his table. They were waiting for me to get there before they buried her. I had told them I wanted her in a pet cometary. I couldn't bear to think of her being burned up in one of those damned dog inferno's. As I drove towards her my eyes teared and I couldn't stop from crying, My eyes began to burn and as I tried to wipe them dry I missed a turn and my car left the road, flipping over and over down a hill side, I was killed on the second flip. Maybe this journey did end well after all, Shylo and Me are together again. .

the dinner

2009-08-15T09:12:00.000-07:00

posted for Sunday Scribbling Last month Old Grizz got himself in one big heap of trouble. Mrs. Old Grizz left to spend a few weeks with her mother. If you ever want to meet up with one mean old she bear, you should visit my mother in law. Well you know what happens when momma bear is away, this old bear is gonna play. Having the den to myself for a few days I decided it would a perfect time to invite the boys over for some "Texas Holdem". Eight seats at the table, seven suckers and my self. I picked the seven worst poker players I knew. Scooby-doo - A not so smart dog. Eeyore - A less than bright donkey (I always thought of him as "dumb ass"). Goofy - The name says it all. Yogi Bear - My dumb cousin from Jelly Stone Park. Pepe-Le-Pew - A real stinker when it comes to poker. Huckleberry Hound - Need I say any more. Foghorn Leghorn - well, how smart can a chicken be (I call him Pea Brain). The invites were sent (actually I just called them) and then I went to get the food. Chips and dip, buffalo wings (that one is always hard for me because I hate to eat a cousin - I actually know a few buffalo's with wings, one is now missing his), and of course a keg of beer. The party was on. Friday night the boys showed and we just sat down to deal the first hand when Mrs. Old Grizz came home. When she walked in the door the bear poop hit the fan. "What is going on. I told you no more poker parties. Scooby-doo leaves his scooby snacks every where and when he loses all can do it run around saying "rooby-rooby-roo". He drives me crazy. And ..the last time Eeyore was here he left thistle all over the house, then pooped in the corner and had the audacity to walk around saying "thanks for noticing me". Oh my God. you let Goofy come back? They should have never changed his name from "Dippy". All he does is scream all night long "Yaaaaaaa-hoo-hoo-hoo-hooey. I can't even think. Well bless my soul if isn't cousin Yogi. If you say "I'm smarter than the average bear" one time, I'll smack you with a frying pan. Beside you're not so dam smart. Your love life is shot to hell after you got caught with that blond hussy. They even wrote a song about you. If you haven't heard it check it out on the net. suzie bear Oh Grizzy how could you let that stinking Pepe-Le-Pew come back. Last time he kept humping my leg because I had on black pants with a white stripe down the leg. Huckleberry Hound? How can you let a blue person into my house? You know I can't stand blue people and on top of that he cannot even hum a tune on key. Huck if you even hum one bar of "Clementine" I'll wash your mouth out with "mother's Lie Soap". Glory be Grizzy get out the frying pan. I'm going to eat that tough old buzzard. Foghorn if you grab me be the tail and whack me with a board singing that "Camptown Races" song, I'll doo-dah you all over the barn yard. Everybody out. Out...out...out. You're not going to mess up my house. Get out. Grizz you have a lot of explaining to do. Yes dear. And so went the story of Old Grizz's dinner for seven.

what happened?

2009-08-09T01:04:00.000-07:00

We think we know the ones we love............ for "Keith's COTtage"

we talked often we walked on occasion we drank together every now and then even shared the same women from time to time he was always there for me i called to him for guidance and support he was the first to come when i was down i could count on him to lift me to higher places and then it all changed something happened to challenge our friendship i called he was not there anymore i was lost i could not function where did my inner being disappear oh shit he is off in the strange strange world of blogging

new, whats?

2009-08-07T23:54:00.000-07:00

an old man sitting in the morning sun worried that his life was no longer worth the effort and then a new child was born that needed his love and guidance and beget a new reason for him to be

for Sunday Scribblings

anticipate and the journey

2009-08-02T08:58:00.000-07:00

ANTICIPATE FOR SUNDAY SCRIBBLINGS i anticpated and was disappointed.............. i dreamed and was denied........... i went and never saw............ i believed and didn't achieve....... i looked and could not see................ i know that i did not................ believe in me the journey carry on tuesday

The journey began and immediately it was apparent that there was to be no end. There would be countless years of struggles and frustrations. Even if there was to be some small area of success or some small milestone reached, the journey would continue, driven by the desires and deeds of the writer. There had to be much thought and then long periods of rethinking. Roads had to be driven and maps plotted and then the routes had to be redirected and sent in another way. The ultimate destination a dream, maybe a forgotten childhood fantasy or a simple desire to be noticed. The road is a compulsion that must be followed. It cannot be denied and when a milestone in the journey is reached it may cause revulsion and denial. Like a woman who wants to destroy the children she has created, the writer has periods of remorse and hates the offspring of their thoughts. They lament the creative process and have grave doubts about the journey but they know it must go on. It cannot be stopped, because it is now in the blood and no matter what happens on the journey, the writer must continue. To stop the journey would be to deny eternal life. There will never be an end, only the journey.

2009-08-01T06:26:00.001-07:00

midnight dream

Self Found Midnight dreams Swirls Above Twilight darkness Confronts Mass Confused energy Challenge Awaken

Force denial Screams Take Desire Whispers Be Unafraid Nuzzle Bravery Fears not Defeat

Fools fear Failure Mind Awake Failure Is Knowledge Gone Misty Dream Remember Not Dream Forgot

i have will power

2009-07-29T22:06:00.000-07:00

darkness burned the mid-day sun it caused my spirit to weaken but i refused to patronize the local pub until happy hour

horse meat and ants

2009-07-29T21:19:00.000-07:00

The power of the mind is an awesome thing. Sometimes it doesn't matter what something really is. What really matters is what your mind perceives it to be. Take for example the day I got a great buy on ribs. They were 45 cents a pound (remember my name is Old Grizz) and I bought about 20 lbs for the week end cook out. The normal price in those days was around 1.75 per lb so you know I got a great deal. But that is where the mind thing comes in. About half way home with the ribs I got to wondering why they were so cheap and of course my mind naturally got around to "horse meat". The more I thought about those ribs the more I could see some poor ass horse in a slaughter house. Naturally I threw the ribs out. If I had taken one bite I would have gagged. Fast forward to my life in the here and now. We just paid big bucks to have a new kitchen put in and my wife had to have "granite" counter tops. Fine by me. She chose the color, dark with some biege mixed in. Well the other night I was fixing a snack on the counter and I was attacked by ants. Seemed like millions of the little thugs and I couldn't see them. They blend with the counter top very nicely thank you. Of course I sprayed and sprayed and washed and washed and sent all their little bodie into the sewer. Now my problem is ants over mind...mine. I see ants evry time I go in the kitchen. My wife has never been so happy. I wash the dam counter at least 3 times every night and twice before my coffee in the morning. I can't get them out of my mind. God how I wish I was an Aardvark.