Bird Bloat


“Those blasted berries gave me gas!”

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Substitute Reindeer


“I suppose asking if y’all are into flying is pointless.”

Posted in Fantasy, Fiction, Funny, Life | 3 Comments

Mechanically Challenged


“Git away from that wheelbarrow, Louie! You know you doesn’t know nothin’ bout machinery.”

Posted in Fiction, Funny, Life | 2 Comments

Wash Day In The 1940s

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.

Posted in Experience, Houston, Life, Memories, Nonfiction, Writing | 4 Comments

For All Of Us Nuts Out There


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The Mysterious Muddy Splotches

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.

Posted in Fiction, Life, Story, Strange, Writing | 6 Comments

Fishing At Carancahua Reef

It was early in the morning when we pushed the rental boat away from the dock of the bait camp on Teichman Road and headed out of Offatts Bayou. My destination was Carancahua Reef in West Galveston Bay.

Since the tide was somewhat low I couldn’t take the shorter route near the shoreline because the propeller started kicking up sand but once I moved out into deeper water I was able to open the motor up and we arrived at the reef shortly.

We dropped anchor and began rigging our lines. Just as I finished attaching the treble hook I felt a sharp cold breeze, along with a few drops of rain. Before I could move we were hit full force with a rain squall. It didn’t last long but long enough that we were drenched.

I had been through the quick weather changes in the Galveston area before and had learned the hard way to come prepared. My friend had never fished the bay and didn’t even have a towel with him. Fortunately I had brought two towels and two extra shirts. We stripped off the wet shirts, toweled off, and put on the dry ones. Our pants were wet but unfortunately in my haste to get started that morning I had left the spare ones laying on the bed at home. Oh well, at least we had dry shirts.

My friend was saying how good that dry shirt felt when a sudden spattering of big raindrops hit us. Once again, before we could react, we were in the middle of a deluge. Apparently the squall had turned around and come back, this time with even harder rain. Again, we were soaked to the skin—this time with no backup dry clothes. All we could do was pull up the anchor and call it a day. I tell you friends, the boat ride back to the dock was a cold and miserable one.

Did we catch any fish? Not a chance! We never made one cast. I think the fish were even drier that we were.

Posted in Experience, Fishing, Galveston, Life, Metaphysical, Nonfiction, Weather, Writing | 14 Comments

Santa’s North Pole

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.

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A Soul Moves On

The ringing phone roused him from a deep sleep. When he answered, the voice on the other end said, “Can you hear that?” What followed was a horrible gurgling combined with the sound of an extremely labored attempt by a person to inhale a lung full of air. It didn’t sound good. “It’s my mom,” the caller said. “She was like this when I arrived this morning. Can you come?” He could tell she was struggling to keep from crying.

He had been to the hospital to see the lady just the previous night and although she had been wide awake and cheerful, he had seen something unsettling. She had been enveloped in a gray haziness.

“I’ll be there in a few minutes,” he said.

It took about half an hour to return to the hospital. When he entered the room he immediately could see that time was short. The haziness was gone, replaced by a luminous white mist that hovered above the lady’s body. It grew in size and brightness even as he watched. A thin, slowly pulsing cord connected it to her body.

He walked over and hugged her daughter, then stepped to the side of the bed and held the lady’s hand for a moment.

“She is not going to get better, is she?” asked the daughter.

Before he could open his mouth to answer, he saw the silver cord part and the white mist slowly rise and disappear.

He whispered, “She is gone.” At the same moment the physical body ceased its attempts to breathe and grew quiet.

Another Soul had moved on to the next phase of its never-ending adventure.

Posted in Life, Metaphysical, Story, Writing | Leave a comment

Deer Crossing Signs


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.

Posted in Life, Nature, Nonfiction, Thoughts, Travel, Writing | 2 Comments