“Those blasted berries gave me gas!”
“Those blasted berries gave me gas!”
“I suppose asking if y’all are into flying is pointless.”
“Git away from that wheelbarrow, Louie! You know you doesn’t know nothin’ bout machinery.”
In the 1940s wash day amounted to taking a week’s worth of dirty clothes out to the garage where there was an old washing machine, complete with wringer, along with two extra tubs for rinse water.
A hose from the machine would be connected to a hot water spigot and once it was filled the clothes would be put in and the washer plugged in. As the agitator started we would take an old broom handle and poke the clothes to ensure they were all wet and under the water. Then soap powder would be added, followed by some more poking with the broom handle to make sure the soap was dissolved.
After awhile the machine would be stopped and the valve to the drain hose would be opened so the wash water could flow out into the back yard. While the washer was draining, each piece of clothing would be fed through the wringer and dropped into one of the tubs of rinse water. After swishing them around and sometimes using the broom handle again to poke them the clothes would be be fed to the wringer again and put in the second tub of rinse water.
After considerable more swishing and poking the clothes would be run a final time through the wringer and then taken out and hung on clothes lines in the back yard to dry.
As you can see wash day was a time consuming affair in those days.
He worked most of the day. Writing, editing, and polishing. Making certain he got the words just right. Finally deciding he could make no further improvements he tapped the “Publish” button and the story went live.
Within minutes he received a message from one of his readers asking about the strange muddy splotches that covered parts of the text. He pulled up the published piece to take a look but the splotches didn’t show up on his screen.
He picked-up the phone and called his computer programmer. The guy took a look and said the effect showed up on his laptop but not on his desktop PC. The programmer checked a couple of things and told him there was no doubt that the SSG (Sneaky Secret Government) had interfered with the article. He told him what he could do in order to block out their hack. As soon as he made the changes the blotches disappeared. He laughed and said he bet they are still trying to figure out how that happened.
Those SSG people are real nut cases—always thinking his writing is filled with secret messages. Cmon guys, it was just a funny story about a fishing trip.
Or was it? The passing mention of a “treble hook” might be considered sort of sinister. Oh, and what about the two dry towels and shirts he brought? No telling what kind of hidden meaning might be contained in that.
It’s all white and pristine snow. Sparkling ice crystals constantly send forth dancing rays of multicolored light. There’s a special energy here. It’s invigorating. Makes a body feel young again. The whole place exudes joy and love. Gentle laughter drifts through the clear, brisk air. Not a hint of pollution is anywhere to be seen.
Low, snow-covered mountains look down on a beautiful little village nestled in the valley below. Perfectly shaped Christmas trees are scattered about, each one decorated with strands of twinkling lights.
The center of the village is dominated by a busy workshop with Elves constantly coming and going. Adjacent to it is the small, cozy looking home of Santa and Mrs. Claus. Nearby stands the colorful stables that house the reindeer.
This is the North Pole. Santa’s North Pole. It’s not what I thought the North Pole would look like. I expected a vast, unbroken expanse of white, mostly featureless and flat. But this place is wonderful. Even with all the cold and snow it has a warm glow about it. The feel of a perfect home.
Over the years there have been countless people who have traveled the frozen north yet none have seen a hint of Santa’s abode. Suddenly I realized why. Santa and his world exists on a slightly different harmonic from our standard workaday 3rd dimension. For most of us it is hidden because of our narrow-sightedness. We have lost touch with the inner child and in doing so the magic has vanished.
In the next few years, as our consciousness continues to expand, I think more of us will reconnect to that place of inner joy and wonder. To be able to see into the magical worlds that are all around us can be a delight beyond description. Are these worlds real? This is a question each one of us will have to answer for ourselves when the time comes. The key to that coming decision is to begin developing now an open mind and an all embracing love for others. If we can do that then the coming years can bring us nothing less than a joy filled existence.
It’s truly something we don’t want to miss.
Deer Crossing signs. I’m sure you’ve seen them. Especially when you’re driving through forests and mountainous regions.
But—have you seen any deer crossing the road at one of those signs? I haven’t.
No, if a deer decides to cross a road it does so just around the blind curve about a mile past the Deer Crossing sign. And if it hears your car coming it will stop right in the middle of your lane so you’ll have to slam on your brakes to keep from hitting it. Then, as you sit there dealing with a bad case of nerves and wondering if you need to change your underwear, the deer slowly disappears into the woods.
Ah, nature. There’s nothing like it.