09 October 2016

The Only Thing That Remains Constant:Changes

I used to blog regularly..

Now it is coming full-circle. Writing again. Correction-- blogging again.
Writing is part of my creative expression, as well as self-styled therapy: if I don't write a large part of me is missing or out-of-sync.
Same goes with exercising, be it running distance or hiking, climbing. Even gardening is a therapeutic form of (low-level) exercise. Not to mention goes hand-in-hand with diet-- eating right. KNOWING what Biskit is consuming; or what choices I have to let Mrs. Greengrocier make for me.
 Kyddryn does the shopping for Casa de Crazie, so there is little doubt you'll eat right. The choices I don't have to make leave me free to continue learning what possibilities can be grown in Cool- or cold-weather: winter and fall. Gardening... that's a good place to start. The seasons are constantly changing. Consistent hot summers I enjoy-- I grew up in Texas where hot and hotter were your seasonal variants; in Ga. I have the same garden Zone (7) as in Texas  but similarities end there: consistent change. Change locales, and everything changes as far as the garden grows-- soil being the primary focus to start, then with latitude comes weather variation. Summers areas hot in Redneck Central, but not so prolonged; okra in Houston can go in the ground and stay all but three months. Not so in Jaw-ghuh, where local lore says wait 'till post-Ostara, or more accurately Easter, so not harvesting in May but putting in.
On the other hand, those cooler months give opportunity to a hardy and hale soul willing to brave the frigid air to grow Mrs Greengrocier's turnips, broccoli, cabbages-- all manner of fodder fit for family-friendly farming. {HA! Ever wonder why alliteration begins with an vowel? No digression tonight, but I hadda ax.}
Thus the differences necessitate more change- not necessarily a bad thing, given you\i quit learning, i/you quit growing. In this instance literally as well as figuratively. Quit growing--'specially turning the corner on 50 years on Erte this cool-weather season-- and Little Boy Bleu;slookin' at a lot more loss than he cares to develop resources to deal wit! Keep the plates full literally, and figuratively sustain the consumption of the issues needed to be consumed before they consume.
  Like writing. Consumed by reading comments before work every morn in Houston was substituted for by f/b after the first Summer in Georgia. And while a good amount of you are part of the social media, few sorely missed aren't "mini-posters"; F/B is a substitute lacking... well, lacking substance-- that creative display that returns deeper dividends from commenters' deeper interest in sharing with a hand-full of writers' lives versus hands-full of comments from folk with not so much common interests. I mean sure-- racking up 'Followers' is nice, but you share a deeper interest in personal matters; I-- WE, my partner Kiki and me, we still prep; on fleecebloke, prepping means primarily turning your tv to be the first to 'trending' now about the hottest program! Through blogger I can focus more on growing my garden, and learning through you, grow stronger, better more variety, more quickly.
  Look, I have to come full-circle. I met a wonderful woman on blogger, right there in the comments section.Those of you who followed me/her our story' know I moved shortly thereafter to Ga, to start a new life with her.
That curtailed my blogger because part of the socializing got REAL, and I got more gardening to do :D More room to grow. all kinds of kind ways. I get to talk to a live writer where we discussed with passion what we'd used to type, or text or phone-talk. All viable substitutes but NOTHING like the real changes reality chanced to see constant in my ever-developing life.Walking the talk, I've called and heard others call it. And to be honeest, I miss her wwriting. I miss daily discussions that help me-- we, US-- grow. I gotta go full-circle ILike the sun, and the seasons. To grow more. I-- WE-- get to help home-school a new beautiful prepper-Biskit, a daughter who is as much momma and papa as she is her namesake: Freedom. Saoirse Peearl helps me garden. I get to help her grow.Literally. And yes, for the third time, figure I'll say it:figuratively. I get to grow more at 50 than most men half my age ever will.Writing is hard work; I'll knock the rust off and create more in the near future.

[Speaking of, I spent last night writing a piece about TIME, titled The Time Is Now. But it wasn't time there to publish it here; it's still out there, where in the Blue Nowhere is anybody's guess.:Blogger and google changed so much that I HAVE to re-learn a new skill set.]

Just like the title says-- More of the same-- changes:P
Slainte, folks. Good to be back, growing. For me, with you

04 August 2011

The Tears Dry, Though.

What Sucks Is That I'm Leaving The Same Legacy For MY Progeny.

It hurts when, being the oldest son in the family, your dad-- father, I mean [difference there; ask me some other time] never calls to see "howzit, kid?"

Not once in 7 months of his grand-daughters' birth have I been on the receiving end of a call, social, familial or otherwise.

I think, in the same 7 months, I heard from my half-brother... let's see... Once? On facebook? mafia wars request? I think so, yah...

And my sister-- she messaged me to tell me to call my dad. On father's day-- or my father on dad's ... what the fuck ever.

Yeah. I was at Wisteria. No phone signal. Notice I didn't miss any messages from my whelp, either.

And my ... and Flower. I don't visit 'blog' anymore; I don't read the words that 'supposedly' won me.

Eighteen months later, and don't want to write on blogger, because I don't want those who know me online-- those who I might still convince I am capable of, against all odds, succeeding-- I can't journal my failures to be a real man here daily. I can't take the shame. Sorry...

No, baby momma. No, father. No, sis.

I don't like me. I don't show me.


21 July 2011

Her Words Won Me.

Her Voice Keeps Me.

It was better than two years ago I met a woman on line-- more specifically, on blogger.

I could complicate it here, tell all the details we've figured about what day, what topic, what time...

I'll save those for another post. But, our meeting was ONLINE-- no faces, no clues. Physically.

And through her language, through her vibrant mastery of the ... hell, through her sheer mastery of WORDS...

Well, my heart was won. I was lost. I'm in love.

And then I moved here, based on that on-line meeting [and a couple physical rondevous, really. Because, y'know...] . And then, I heard her classically-trained voice.

When she goes into studio and puts that magnificent voice on record for posterity, I pray I am fortunate enough to be rhythm-keeper on percussion as background.

In the interim, I'll walk out of the house from time to time, overwhelmed and teary-eyed; I hear The Voice.

I AM a lucky man...

Slainte, folks.


08 February 2011

Through The Eyes Of Freedom

Saoirse's eyes...

Two weeks of taking in what must have seemed at first awfully bright visual sensory input have sharpened to the high end of chiaroscuro definition. With my own windows of the Soul open and taking her in, those yellow-flaked blue orbs causing neuron fire for synapse construction over the light-and-dark contrast of the ceiling fan blades.
Total absorption in the thing; not defining it, mayhap not even knowing, thinking or caring to try. Just taking it in, OBSERVING it.

Freedom... Saoirse is, I'm told, a parallel in the Irish language.

Too young to let either reflections of the 'past' or worries of the 'future' mar the Present.

There's a lesson there.

Think I'll go hold her again and watch the birds eat. I'll stand there in what, when we see adults doing it, we call 'daydreaming'. We've suppressed that this is the key to learning: the total, non judgemental Zen-observation of our first days...

Slainte, folks.


01 February 2011

Unbeknownst To Me

Flower Had her Camera Running

@ ... the Redneck Central General Horspital[sic], Sock,and Pill Emporium


She usually shoots photos-- GALLERY QUALITY, by the way-- so, not seeing the flash i never suspected i was caught...

I've not watched the video yet. I doubt I ever will-- my tear ducts NEED reserves...

Given I take a photograph every two or three days, and am occasionally wont to wax verbose and have a new daughter with which I am utterly enamored enough to kindle fire under year-long sleeping muses, I'll likely dedicate a great deal of this blog to those aspects of my life.


I imagine there will be garden pictures as well, and have no doubt l'il Sprout will be in there-- in the front-or-back pack papa pilfered por phree... hehehe!!!

Thanks, folks, for hanging with me this dormant-- insofar as writing--- year. I have been active; heck, you should see my aluminum can and glass collection, on top of Mafia Wars and Pot farm stats! ROTF!!!

More soon!! Slainte, folks!


26 January 2011

Long Time No See Me...

My 1st 2011 Post: Been A Busy Year For Me...

I bet it only gets busier!

Saoirse Pearl-- trhe first pronounced 'sear-shuh', an Irish word for freedom-- was born yesterday morning at 0807 hrs. She weighed in at 7#14oz-- NOT the 13 ounces I erred yesterday-- and measured 20" head-to-toe.

A son 23 years ago, a daughter yesterday.

So, when does the fun start?!?

About 23 years nine months ago apparently! LMAO!!!

Slainte, folks!!!


31 December 2010

This Song Is CORE...

I'll be investing time the coming year with Windows Moviemaker and this tune, I'm so sycophant.

I'm not christian, but just like all the REAL PEOPLE in this video, I AM...

Jesus isn't a WHO. It's a WHAT.

Every one of these folk was a beacon.

I got video work to do, folks. Do yourself a favor-- TWO, even:

1) LISTEN to the song. Listen and HEAR.

2) BE.

Salinte, Folks.