A Cubic Centimeter of Chance


“I have noticed that even those who assert that everything is predestined and that we can change nothing about it still look both ways before they cross the street”  ~  Stephen Hawking

“All of us, whether or not we are warriors, have a cubic centimeter of chance that pops out in front of our eyes from time to time. The difference between an average man and a warrior is that the warrior is aware of this, and one of his tasks is to be alert, deliberately waiting, so that when his cubic centimeter pops out he has the necessary speed, the prowess, to pick it up.”  ~  Don Juan Matus (Carlos Castaneda)

I just a few minutes ago poured the last of the coffee into my double-wall steel cup and turned off the machine. Mundane details in a life that is changing in a mysterious and powerful way. How did I get myself into this? All I did was prepare myself for unknown change. I had no idea what it would be, I just knew it would happen, because I was going to begin receiving monthly benefit payments from the Social Security Administration. All I did was prepare myself. The nature of the changes was unknown, and it remains unknown, but it sho is puttin’ on a good show. I’m like all pert near dumbstruck and stuff. Aw dude. So, at the moment I am waiting for the next wave of snow. The first one came while I was still asleep and apparently thrashing about upon my pillow. My hair was quite amusing to behold. The cat woke me up, just fifteen minutes before the alarm was set to go off. I use my iPad as an alarm clock, setting two different times, just to make sure. The cat is seriously bugged by the digital sounds provided endogenously for us to use with the alarm. They even have one that sounds like a duck. That one seriously bugs me! Friggin duck. So, the question becomes: just how canny is Rosie the cat? Does she wake me up before the alarm just to avoid having to hear it go off? She doesn’t like the sound. What better way, right? At the moment I gotta go outside before the darkness abates, to see if the snow has come, and to breathe in the fresh moist air. I was entrenched, when I lived within lapping distance of the ocean, for 23 years, in high humidity. I have never lost my love for the stuff, and I never will. Busy backson.

The snow hasn’t started yet. There is is possibility that there will be none. Speaking of possibility, I’ve been thinking a lot about quantum physics lately, specifically about the Observer Effect. In a nutshell this Effect concerns the collapse of a probability wave through the simple act of being observed. A particle of light, a photon, exists as a probability wave until it “undergoes the formality of actually occurring”, as  Alfred North Whitehead explained. The probability wave collapses and the probability becomes an actuality, a particle. It’s a really friggin weird thing, when you think about it. As the future goes you kind of see your way to it. Think of it, there are any number of paths you might choose which lead into your future. So, when you choose just one, in seeing your way into the future you make what was once a possibility into an actuality. You could even take the road less traveled. So, this all takes me to that tiny choice I made last week, that became a life-changing event. The choice was mostly spontaneous, maybe even whimsical, even though I had given it ample thought already, and I ended up telling myself “not friggin likely dude”. And I believed that. This spontaneous change is as powerful as that which occurred when I got laid off from the animal shelter, an event which made me curl up under a blanket of unemployment checks for six months. And so it goes. Moving forward I have run overtime with this post. Gotta go. Off to the shower. There’s a time warp in my shower in that what seems to be a ten minute shower is actually twenty minutes. That’s gotta be a quantum event as well. I can just feel it! Bueno bye.

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.


Mother Ocean and Indra’s Web

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The Buffalo pasture, a qui en Taos, 2/26/2017

“Somebody recently asked me if I miss the ocean. I lived within meters of the ocean for 23 years. Yes, I miss being there. But that which I miss, that feeling and nurturance, is tattooed on my soul. Yes, the ocean brought out in me is a feeling of immediate paradise, whenever I stop to listen to my heart. Florida Bay is on the other side of the Keys, connected to the ocean through bridged channels. Florida Bay is the magical place that is upfront in my love for the ocean. Hey man, I also miss those old conversations from the Noetic days.”  ~  Ken Ebert, 2/27/2017

“There’s nothing wrong with enjoying looking at the surface of the ocean itself, except that when you finally see what goes on underwater, you realize that you’ve been missing the whole point of the ocean. Staying on the surface all the time is like going to the circus and staring at the outside of the tent.”  ~  Dave Barry

“And in your belly you hold the treasure
that few have ever seen, most of them dreams,
Most of them dreams.”    ~  Jimmy Buffet, A Pirate Looks at Forty

There’s this guy, see, name of Chris, who became my friend through the internet chat room of the Institute of Noetic Sciences (IONS), back just after the beginning of a new millennium. It was the second incarnation of the IONS chat room. The first was taken down when internet pirates saturated the software with hyperlinks to porn sites and stuff. Anyway, this friend of mine lives in southeast Australia. He’s a surfer and a writer, poet, whatever. A poet is a writer too, right? Right. He’s an internet friend, but if we were to meet in person, we would be able to sit on some porch somewhere, on rockers, sipping tea or ale, and conversing like old friends. IONS can do that to a person. IONS is dedicated to spreading the word that we all have the capacity to grow an evolution in consciousness. That capacity is harbored in our hearts and our little heads. Let’s get on it, shall we, k?! Anyway, I live in the American southwest, many miles from the ocean. And I am sorely missing the ocean this morning. Alls I got is an overcast night, early morning, sky and a few angry dogs barking in the dark. But the ocean is in my heart and soul. I have been more intimate with the ocean than I have with any human being. You have no idea. As the Dali Lama pointed out, the surface of the ocean gets all stormy and wavy and stuff, just like our personal lives. Go figure, right? But the deep cool currents, where emerald and indigo are the primary colors, mirror the soul within us. No, wait a minute; I am currently (no pun intended) reading a bestselling book by an Irish Catholic priest by the name of John O’Donohue. He is a poet as well. John says that in the ancient Celtic spiritual tradition our souls are not within us, we are within our souls. We are bigger than we think, we are (Don’t forget that as you play your little part in taking down our fake president). Yeh, I was on about the soul and poetry in yesterday’s blog post. I’ve got a big feeling that these things will predominate in my life, maybe for a few months, or maybe throughout all of my remaining time. So, as I said (or did I?), we are all interconnected; a condition that is suggested to be highly influenced by, if not created by, a quantum phenomenon known as “quantum entanglement”. So says the chief researcher at IONS, Dean Radin (that Guy is soooo cool!). And there is a Hindu concept, called Indra’s Web, that serves as an exquisite metaphor for quantum entanglement and the non-dual nature of our being. It’s all like some Cosmic spider web, with strands made of the finest silk. Seems to me that some Native American lore calls the spider the Grandmother. Likely it is that same web she spins? Boy howdy is it ever. So in that entangled web we have within reach many different strands that span along to other people. Last week I reached out and plucked, pizzicato-like, one of them strands. And it didn’t twang, it sang. The resonant sound the pluck emitted was powerful enough to be heard by my future self. Or did my future self do the plucking? Whatever. It’s all music (music is music to me), including the smile I have deep down in the emerald and indigo depths of my soul, and I’m like all happy and stuff. Aw dude.

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.

Saturated in Patience


“The future is there… looking back at us. Trying to make sense of the fiction we will have become.”  ~  William Gibson, Pattern Recognition

“Tomorrow belongs to those who can hear it coming”  ~  David Bowie

“The future is already here – it’s just not evenly distributed.  ~  William Gibson

“Change is the law of life. And those who look only to the past or the present are certain to miss the future.    ~  John F. Kennedy

What an odd few days it has been since Wednesday. A lot of it has been about the soul, and my soul has been messing with my sense of time, as soul’s are wont to do, if they want to. I had Wednesday and Thursday off from work, then worked Friday, and then I had the whole weekend off. Today is the second day of some serious pattern-breaking activity, or lack thereof. There is a smidge of both right now. And my sleep patterns have been kinda sorta all wonky. Ah dude I can’t even tell you dude! Surf’s up dude. That’s all I can say; and I really mean it as well.  Kowabunga!!! Whew, I gotta go watch a bit of the sunrise right now. Busy backson, said Pooh.

About 20º out there. The clouds up on the high summits are whispering of a storm that may be a comin’. Bring it on. But think about it: clouds almost always whisper, except when they shout along with thunder. That’s kind of poetic, I know, but I’ve had to wrestle with a poetic sense of perspective these past few days, and it is starting to bring me around. See, there’s been a load of conundrums tickling me, and I at first reckoned these puzzling feelings could be reconciled. Yeh, but the process is a slow one. Silly me, I should have known. Puzzles seem to be more about changes that evolve through the process of overthinking than they are about solutions. And so on and so forth. I made a choice last Wednesday. A tiny, momentary action followed that choice. No biggie. How can something so small shift a big ol’ thing like the soul? But here’s the thing  .  .  .  I tend to see time as non-linear. Past, present, and future, all at once; simultaneous. I watched the film “Arrival”, with Amy Adams(!), last night. It deals with this non-linear time concept. But this ain’t a movie review so let’s move on, shall we. The thing I’m thinking here is akin to the Celtic spiritual view of Longing. And what I’m feeling is how an event and/or situation in my future might have advised me to make that little choice I recently made. Let that sink in. It’s not really destiny I am on about here. Or is it? Future memory. I don’t know. If I adopt that view of things, what’s done is done, and alls I need now is patience. I made that choice for some reason, or toward some purpose. You know, to be honest here, I think I’ve come about as close as I can get to putting these vast feelings into words. And to continue being honest, I actually already have become patient. And here I sit. And furthermore it is laundry day, so I shall venture forth and do that thing, and have a sweet time doing it, and I will along the way watch for signs, omens, harbingers, whatever. Herein lies magic. Maybe that magic will show itself to me and maybe not. But I am truly in a state of being, saturated in patience. Soooo, whatever.

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.



Take Some Time


“I like a good story and I also like staring at the sea– do I have to choose between the two?”  ~  David Byrne

I know that there are a few people who stop by EyeYotee on their way to the rest of the day. This is for you folks. I missed posting yesterday, due to sleep; nothing else. But I am working on a nice post for this morning. Look back later. This is going to take some time.

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.

Actuality and the Tipping Point


“Getting hold of the difficulty deep down is what is hard. Because if it is grasped near the surface it simply remains the difficulty it was. It has to be pulled out by the roots; and that involves our beginning to think about these things in a new way.”  ~  Ludwig Wittgenstein

This morning’s frigid air caught me by surprise. At the moment it is 20º out there. This suggests that I haven’t been keeping track of the weather forecast. My bad? Not really. I also have come to rely on my buddy Mac here to tell me the specifics in regards to the day of the week. For example, today feels like Monday because yesterday feels like Sunday. I say this with an intentional word choice. I  say yesterday “feels” like Sunday instead of yesterday “felt” like Sunday. A minor difference, I suppose. But the truth is that I didn’t pay any attention to what day it was yesterday. It apparently did not matter to me. But I feel it today, even though I have to go to work today, and it most definitely is Friday. Mac told me so. Yet after today I have two more days off in a row, just as I had the two previous days off. These next two days just might kill and bury my sense of time for good. Whatever. Am I sufficiently boring you yet, with all of this pretty much personal stuff? Not my intention, I assure you. What is happening here is transformation, maybe even transmutation. I know exactly when the tipping point was reached, and I saw it coming, even though I denied myself the good grace of actually believing that the tipping point would actually undergo the formality of occurring. Dag nab it all to heck I lacked faith! Thus it caught me by surprise. Yet in the personal intimacy of the brief time span when the actual tipping point was doing its tipping thing I wasn’t even aware that the shift was occurring. It don’t think you can have a transformation if you are thinking about and/or watch said transformation. That’s like intentionally choosing to endeavor toward enlightenment and then keeping a close eye on your progress. I am pretty much sure you can get an app for your phone that keeps track of that for you, but why rely on your phone to do that for you? I am of course kidding. Here’s the cool part  .  .  .  it lasted maybe one minute. The sweetest minute I have experienced in recent memory. Lucky me, right? Yeh. I am cutting this short this morning, not because I’ve already said enough; it’s because I am sorely tempted to wax political this morning, and I just don’t want to go there, k? Yeh.

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.

Today I Am the River

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“The key is the ability, whether innate or conditioned, to find the other side of the rote, the picayune, the meaningless, the repetitive, the pointlessly complex. To be, in a word, unborable … If you are immune to boredom, there is literally nothing you cannot accomplish.”  ~  David Foster Wallace

A writerly challenge confronts me as I start, begin, whatever, this post. Do I say “there is or there’s”? I’ll choose “there is”. There is something profound about a river when seen as a metaphor. All philosophy and/or spirituality aside, the bottom line is you cannot stop a river. You can dam it up all you want but it will still find a way around. Today I am the river. Groggy boy here find’s the morning to be anything but drab. Outside the door it is quiet. Coyotes reveled earlier but now it is quiet. No barking dogs, no nothing. I’m finding it hard to maintain a focus, or even to create one in the first place. Today must be a day of rest. Please? A big day yesterday. Sigh. But I’ll take it like a big boy, I will. Therapy at noon, then a jaunt into town afterwards. I will look forward to coming back home. There is something on my mind and I need it to stay there. I just used “mind” in the last sentence as if my mind is something I’m not. Modern interpretations suggest that the mind can be transcended, but I find that this is not the case, which may mean that my chances at transcendence are slim to none. Yeh, whatever. I did something yesterday that shocked the living daylights outta me, and the living daylights shall from here on out run free. Says me. The details of what I did shall remain unspoken here, but I am feeling okay to say that what I did is something that most peeps would likely do without much thinking about it. Trust me, I thought a lot. Maybe that is why I am tired today, reckon? I can live with that. I feel alive today. I am alive every day, but I don’t always feel it. Sometimes the weight of life overrides the simple fact of life. Cherish the precious moments, k? I had me one of those yesterday. I am not the type to fill up every last friggin second of my day with busyness. How did we as a people ever come to deem busyness to be a virtue? Listen, it ain’t, and you can’t make it so just by acting like it is a virtue. It ain’t. Whatever. There’s a good chance that in honor of the people at Standing Rock, who were just ousted by the cops, in order to make way for the big ol’ fancy oil pipeline, I will watch the movie “Thunderheart” this afternoon. It is one of the few movies I can watch over and over again. My own heart feels/gives thunder today. It got cracked open yesterday. This is a good thing. Our lives can get all dammed up by circumstances; understandably so. But if the need becomes too great, circumstances gotta be all busted up and stuff. You can’t stop the river. Says the inscrutable writer this morning. Today I am the river. Yesterday, everything changed. Today is different, and I can’t say why. I just know that it’s a pretty nice day. Almost sunrise so I’m gonna dust off the camera and go get a gander at the sky show. I’ve not taken many fresh photos in a while. What’s up with that?!

Peace out, y’all.

The Sense of Being Alive

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“It is difficult to write a paradiso when all the superficial indications are that you ought to write an apocalypse.”  ~  Ezra Pound

“Love was undoubtedly one of the things capable of changing a person’s whole life, from one moment to the next. But there was the other side of the coin, the second thing that could make a human being take a totally different course from the one he or she had planned; and that was called despair. Yes, perhaps love really could transform someone, but despair did the job more quickly.”  ~  Paulo Coelho 

“Listen to the mustn’ts, child. Listen to the don’ts. Listen to the shouldn’ts, the impossibles, the won’ts. Listen to the never haves, then listen close to me. Anything can happen, child. Anything can be.”  ~  Shel Silverstein

Pale stars, quiet morning. Even the shooting star I saw down to the south was pale. As always these days the early morning temperature is hovering around the freezing point. Yeh, quiet. I’m feeling, finally, the full aftermath of the illness that hounded me last week, and also the ill feeling that the now finished course of antibiotics brought on. Mixed blessing, that. But today is massage day, and that is always a point of joy for me. The relaxation that the massages bring to me is a joy unto itself, but the deeper energetic changes are the truest joy. I choose women as my healthcare providers for a good reason: they have a naturally nurturing affect, effect, whatever, as a given. But with the massage there’s more to it. The intimate hands on attention plays out energetically with a powerful synergy that I expect can only be overtly experienced when accessed with a mindful approach to the given attention; a synergy that is innate to nonjudgmental communion within the interplay of male and female energy. The flow this creates is a really sweet and profound state of being and feeling. It’s a quality of life thing. I’m not real sure if I would mention this perspective to the massage therapist, or not, as I am not sure if such interplay is a private thing or not. I would think not, but then I would think a lot of things, and I do. One of the truly dark things about the depression and anxiety I wrestle with on a mostly ongoing basis is the involuntary suppression of the sense of being alive. The massages have heightened this sense to a wordless level. Life! I go outside after a massage and look around in wonder at the world as I see and feel it as a result. You can’t beat stuff like that. Hey, maybe I should mention it to her? We all need feedback on how well we perform our job. I’m just not sure. As for now, it is time to finish this post and get to a task I need to and don’t want to do. But it is for a good cause, and any dampening residuals I get as I perform the task will be washed away by the massage. Don’t think I am obsessing here. These massages have become a spiritual experience for me. I will have it no other way.

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.


No Bias In Regards to Age

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“It’s spring fever. That is what the name of it is. And when you’ve got it, you want—oh, you don’t quite know what it is you do want, but it just fairly makes your heart ache, you want it so!”  ~  Mark Twain

Notes: the opening photo shows Jicarilla Peak out yonder in the Pecos Wilderness, as seen from the mesa north of town. The little ridge front and center is one where I did a lot of hiking in my first years in Taos. You can see part of the Town of Taos as well. The opening quotes is from, I believe, Tom Sawyer. It was Huck Finn who said it. Yeh, I just googled it; Mr. Trump make note. It only took me less than a minute. Now, moving forward. That Spring Fever, however prominent, is buried under the weight of out national political and social malaise. The Resistance movement is encouraging whereas the existence is not. There ya have it. I’ve got it bad. I check Huffington Post for news flashes, on break and at lunch, while at work. The good chance that these checks might reveal something important, and possibly even shocking, is a major disturbance in itself. Makes me feel like I need a shower, which I do actually, and I’ll get to it right after I finish this post, k? Don’t even try it. Wink, wink. Yeh, I’m feeling kinda cranky this morning. Boy howdy am I ever! But I’ll slip into my social costume when I clock in for my day shift.

I get so much fulfillment at work, in part because the mood in the hardware store is almost always warm and laced with humorous banter. A lot of laughs are heard. I mean, peeps are fixing things, building things. And selling things. Helping people with a professional proficiency. I enjoy it. And the multicultural tone of the day is nourishment for the soul as well. I am a lucky man indeed to be there 32 hours a week. And I work with good people. Another thing I’ve got bad is that thing Brother Huck was reckoning about. Seems ta me that Tom’s Aunt Polly wrapped him up in bed sheets to help him sweat it out. I ain’t goin there. Although I reckon staying home and cocooning don’t sound so really bad neither. When I get Spring fever the introvert that makes up so much of my inner subjective self is often known for going: “but .  .  .  but  .  .  .  but  .  .  .”. Suck it up, snowflake. Now, I’m goin’ to step outside then come back in to finish this here blog post. Busy backson.

Temperature again hovering right at zero. The lavender hour failed to show today. The lavender hour is my own designation for when the penumbral caress from the Sun first crosses Taos Valley, and the whole place takes on the hue of lavender. Right pretty it is. The cat is sacked out and dreaming, in her bed, just to the right of my computer chair. Well, ummmm, it’s not really a chair as such, but never mind that. I’m an emotional good-mess this morning. I reckon it’s biological, genetic, whatever, in nature. Who knows, right. It is interesting to note that Spring fever holds no bias in regards to age. Feels pretty good, actually. That said I am headed for the shower, right after I review and edit this post.

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.

The Trickster Is Afoot in the Land

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“Science is not only compatible with spirituality; it is a profound source of spirituality.”  ~ Carl Sagan

“The resting place of the mind is the heart. The only thing the mind hears all day is clanging bells and noise and argument, and all it wants is quietude. The only place the mind will ever find peace is inside the silence of the heart. That’s where you need to go.”  ~  Elizabeth Gilbert

“Like those in the valley behind us, most people stand in sight of the spiritual mountains all their lives and never enter them, being content to listen to others who have been there and thus avoid the hardships.”  ~  Robert Pirsig

The cat has this thing. She will jump up to my lap when I sit down with the first cup of morning coffee  –  French roast, BTW; deep dark and bitter; my ex-wife introduced it to me back in ’76. But I digress giggling. So, after her jump, Rosie the cat settles in with her head facing toward my left. I boost her when I need (carefully chosen word there) the second cup. I sit down again, in my accustomed half-lotus, and she gets back on the lap with her head facing the other way. She rests, sleeps, whatever, with her head up, not down. I cannot type upon the keyboard without brushing up against the very tip of her ear, which means it tickles each and every time. So I raise my arms and shoulders to avoid the tickle. It’s gonna be quite odd to tell the massage therapist that this week’s particular shoulder kinks are because of the cat’s left ear. Or maybe not. Maybe she will grok the issue, because she has two cats. Each and every one of those alien mammals we call cats are friggin weird. I used to work with shelter cats. I know! To call this sort of ubiquitous cat annoyance a conspiracy would be an understatement. Cats have evolved beyond such minor concepts as conspiracy. They operate at a higher level. That’s why they can make us laugh so easily. I knew two shelter kittens, Quentin Tarantino and Alan Thicke, who could make me spurt out a laugh just by looking at them. They were in it together.

I’m about to step out on the deck before the darkness fades and the workday comes within sight. I like the night. I’ve been getting up around 3 AM since just after my NDE, head trauma, bicycle catastrophe, whatever, back in ’84. This was down in the Keys, where 3 AM is often the only cool part of the day. The Miami Herald usually hit the newspaper dispensers around 4 AM. I’d bicycle down to the box at Abel’s Bait and Tackle, right next to Howard Johnson’s, to get the morning news. I was headed back to my secluded trailer by the sea one night and I got pulled over by a County cop. He asked me what I was doing out bicycling at such an early hour. I told him “I live here”. He got a look of baffled revelation on his face and left me to go on my way. All I did was tell him the obvious truth. Is that so odd? Anyway, moving forward, it’s time to go outside for a few minutes. Busy backson.

There was a bunch of singing coyotes out close up on the mesa. It was soooo cool! The Trickster is afoot in the land. I’m all about spirituality these days. It’s a kinda hafta thing for me, considering that I am endeavoring to lift myself up after several years of a shadow world depressive phase. It’s hard work, and the Goddess is just the one to turn to. It is worth it, so her giggling is bearable. Listen up, I’m not that funny, k? I don’t know why she giggles. Wink, wink. The need to turn to the Goddess was launched upon me when a woman engaged my heart a while back. This required some flexibility on my part, and right now I need to flex right on out into the throngs of people who inhabit the workaday world. Wish me luck, k? Thanks, yer a pal.

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.


Sheep and Puppies

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“The imagination is the goal of history. I see culture as an effort to literally realize our collective dreams.”  ~  Terence McKenna

“There, Master Niketas,’ Baudolino said, ‘when I was not prey to the temptations of this world, I devoted my nights to imagining other worlds. A bit with the help of wine, and a bit with that of the green honey. There is nothing better than imagining other worlds,’ he said, ‘to forget the painful one we live in. At least so I thought then. I hadn’t yet realized that, imagining other worlds, you end up changing this one.”  ~  Umberto Eco, Baudolino

Yesterday afternoon was a real pisser. I worked, and as I work with the public I am subject to the moods of the public. As I said, it was a real pisser. Content with the notion that it was ‘just me’ I made my needed stops at the appropriate stores. I just wanted to go home and hide. Introvert stuff. My last stop at the convenience store gave me some perspective. My buddy Max, the cashier, mentioned the difficult moods of the public that afternoon, without any preliminary prodding from me. So – it wasn’t just me. What is it? The Moon is not full. What came to me while still at work is that it is that infernal Trump fella causing all of the problem. How can you expect people to go calmly about their business when there is such a cloud of imminent and truly yucky danger hanging over our collective heads? I find myself in a state of increasing anger toward the president and his minion of puppies; those opportunist guys and gals  .  .  .  well, ummmm, I just think the Republicans in office ought to put a few chains on the guy; not literally, just figuratively. But, moving forward, that’s enough politics. This blog has never included too much politics. Let’s not start now. But being as we Americans are in for a world of shit there is no way I will refrain from barking at Trump on occasion. Woof. So, moving forward, it’s laundry day for me. Perhaps a breakfast burrito with delicious green chile from Lot-a-Burger to have while the clothes spin. I’d like that. The weather forecast calls for rain, starting early. I’d had some idea of taking my new hiking shoes out for a spin, out on the West Rim Trail, maybe spark up a chat with a few bighorn sheep. I love those animals! You get up close and those danged horns just don’t look real. So very beautiful. Of course I was just kidding about talking with them. They aren’t very good conversationalists. So if it indeed turns out to be a persistently rainy day I sense that the healthiest thing would be to plug myself into a movie or something like it, to get me out of my own thoughts for a while. Yeh, maybe. I am fortunate that the cat is in a mellow mood this morning. She may get pissy later on when the rain starts. Somehow or other the rain is always my fault! Friggin cats just don’t seem to care. I bow to these superior beings, so I will unlock the cat door for her anyway. Ugh. Time to go feed the chickens and that lovely turkey, Oscar. Bueno bye.

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.