Rango, bring cake!

It's been a long hot summer so far with no reprieve from the heat insight. It's too dry for anything to thrive and too hot to water. My hope for rain dissipates with the passing of each miserably scorching day. Walking around the yard in clogs, introduced dirt into my toe holes, so I resorted to slipping on socks. So now I'm not only overheating, I'm dorky to boot. Awesome. Back inside I sigh, is it any wonder I feel depressed? My skin is pale 'cause the sun hates me, my head hurts 'cause it hates the sun and as my depleted vitamin D level bottoms out, my anemic, jaundiced eye balls squint through the dusty blinds...searching the blue sky for any cumulus clouds. I see none. Fantastic! So I guzzle the ice water in my hand and put the cool glass next to my cheek and think...what I really need is chocolate cake. Cake makes everything better.

Fair Weather Rider

So if it ever cools off, I'm climbing on...and Big Blue will transform me into one of my many alter egos...Harley chick! If you see me, wave. If I don't wave back it's cause I have fallen asleep behind the handlebars. This lil baby has a cushy seat,  highway pegs to stretch my legs out  and cruise control. If you have never ridden you can't understand. If you are a rider, you will concur...riding equals freedom. There is a reckless, tingling sensation that crawls  up your spine and captures your spirit like a greedy lover. Once you feel the revolution of the motor beneath you, there is no going back. Similar to the deadliest drug available, you will be hooked with your first try. So I urge you to use caution. Don't throw a leg over a seat and plant yours on it, unless you are willing to commit to a lifestyle change. At least (if you are like me) a lifestyle change when the weather is just right. Not too cold, not too hot, not too windy...

The Greatest Pain

I couldn't tear my eyes away from his face. It was so misshapen, bloody and bruised. A fellow gun-toter; tall, strong and agile now lay motionless, helpless and broken. A motorcycle crash had landed him in the ICU, but how had it happened and who was to blame? It didn't really matter since it wouldn't change the outcome, but somehow focusing on the how seemed to help ease the tightening around my throat. I kept thinking of all the things I had never said to him. Like; "Thank you for always treating me with respect, or thank you for always backing me up, you are a good friend, you're a great partner or Jesus loves you and died to set you free." Why is it that I never got around to say those things? Why did I let fear or pride keep me from speaking the truth? Ashamed, I stand there by his bedside and pray that I will get another chance. I don't know if he can hear anything that I'm saying, but I begin slowly making amends. I pause while looking up into the eyes of his beautiful wife and I wonder what regrets she has. My heart begins to ache as I acknowledge the greatest pain of all mankind, regret.

Happy 4th!

Laying on my back on the still warm concrete, I shaded my eyes. Not from the sun, but from the debris that was falling from the fireworks that my husband and son were setting off. I marvelled at the colors, the sounds, the explosions. I love the smell of sulfur. Clapping and yelling for more I couldn't help but recall Independence Day celebrations gone by. My brothers, Brian and Brent, were dangerous with firecrackers. I can even remember some stink bombs or wildcats that were tossed into the back seat of a moving Chevy Nova in the wild west town of Enid, Oklahoma. Since we never wore seat belts, it wasn't too difficult to scramble and fight to get away from a smoldering device that had landed on or near a Levis, dock-shoed, Izod-wearing kid. Yeah, those were the days. Smiling in the darkness, my face lights up with more than the fizzle of another round exploding in celebration. Those days epitomized life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. Happy Independence Day!