SNAKE FOR TAT

A cold wind had made the mountain morning seem colder than it really was. I had been bundled up with gloves on my hands and a ski mask over my face all morning. The sun had been out for over and hour and I was just beginning to get warm. I stopped to remove my gloves and ski mask so I could have better control of my hunting rifle. I don't know what I would have done if I had jumped a deer with the gloves and ski mask. I wouldn't have been able to see the dam thing let alone shoot it. I was to cold to care. Now I was more into it. The sun had turned a shivering numskull into a mighty hunter. At least that's what I was thinking at the time. Now I could rally get into it. I was going to get the big one. I was going to get the trophy deer. I was edging my way along a hill side of small sage brush and scattered cedar trees. I was moving slowly, alert for any movement or sound down in the gully or across the canyon on the opposite hillside. My leg brushed up against a sage brush and I heard a rattling sound. At first I thought it was the brush rubbing against my pants, but when I looked down, there was a small rattle snake, coiled and shaking his rattles at me. No big deal, a small rattler, a mighty hunter with a mighty deer rifle. That snake would make a great hat band. Fortunately for the snake, I panicked. I ran. I was forty yards down the mountain, my heart beating wildly, my head thumping and a cold sweat running down my back, before I got control of myself. To this day I will swear on a stack of bibles that I could hear that tiny little rattler laughing at me. I didn't bother to tell my hunting buddies about the snake. And, yep, you guessed it. I did not get a deer either.

An Evening for TAT

A soft summer breeze wafted off the water creating the perfect atmosphere to hold each other close. We slowly strolled barefoot on the sand letting the water wash around our feet and sift the sand through our toes. We talked and giggled the words of young lovers. We stopped and kissed, letting our lips linger together in soft sweet harmony. They were not the kisses of deep demanding passion, but the kisses of two lovers wanting to confirm they wanted to be there, together and alone. We were getting to know each other, slowly and comfortably. We did not want to rush our relationship . It was enough for now to hug, caress to tease each other with thoughts and feelings of what was to come in the future. We walked for hours, neither of us wanting to end the evening. We talked about everything and we talked about nothing. Finally we had to leave, she to her house in the city and me to my apartment on the peninsula. We drove as we had walked, happy, glad to be together. We could not tire of each other. I delighted in the sound of her voice, the smell of her breath and movement of her breasts. Her eyes were a golden brown that matched her long brown hair, creating a feeling that I had a goddess sitting next to me. She had freckles on her cheeks just below her eyes. I loved those freckles. I wanted to kiss everyone of them and take a hundred years to do it. When she laughed or smiled she was not afraid to show her teeth. They were not perfect, but they ere nice to look at. Her small imperfections, freckles, teeth were a big part of what drew me to her. She was beautiful in a wonderful way. She would not ever be a movie star nor a play boy centerfold, but she was perfect for me. She fell asleep and I began to dream about the things that could be. I never saw the car that hit us. I do not remember any part of the accident. She was killed instantly. When I awoke she was gone from me forever. They did not bury her in San Francisco, but in Seattle where her family lived. They blamed me and I blamed myself. I was absolved from any wrong doing by the San Francisco Police but that did not bring her back and it did not ease my soul. After 50 years I still weep when I think about her. I have flowers put by her grave every year and every five years I spend a week in Seattle just to be with her. My wife goes with me and understands that which some women cannot. s beatty/april 09

for TAT

I Wept The morning sun reflected from her face. I felt I was looking at an angel. An Angel sent to me by God. But why? Why would God send me an Angel? For what purpose? Her face was beautiful. Not beautiful as a young woman would appear. but beautiful with life, beautiful with love, beautiful with knowledge, the knowledge that she would soon be with God. Yes, I was the doctor, she the patient. But there was more. A relationship that existed but never existed. A feeling, something burning deep inside me. Some memory I could not recall. She awoke with a smile, her deep blue eyes, strong, intelligent, loving, searched my soul. Hi, I guess I fell asleep while reading. Do you read? I mean for relaxation for what I call "soul rejuvenation". No, I confessed, I am to busy for that. Do you know God? Yes, I said. I know God. I mean do you really know God? Do you speak to God? Ask him for guidance? Well, not really. I really do not have time for that, but I do believe in God. God would like you to talk with him. You need him. You need his guidance in your work. Promise me you will seek him. He is there for you. She smiled and peacefully left to be with God. I wept. I wept not for her. I wept for me

Sunday Scribblings - Scary

Politics...Politics....Politics.....Scary.....Scary.....Scary. I am not bagging left or right, I am bagging them all. All Politicians State or Federal. They really have no idea what they are doing. They practice politics like teenagers drive cars, by trial and error. Bush and his pals had no idea what they were getting us into in Iraq. Now we have the great American Shopping Spree. Obama and his pals are spending Trillions and they have absolutely no idea if the spending will solve our problems. But the really scary thing is that what ever happens they will claim it worked or is working. And, it will work...for them. They are all up there getting rich and the rest of us...well good luck

Dream Catchers

I am part Indian, Mohican, I am told. I really do not know if it s true. It really does not matter. I am not sure why I even brought it up. Probably looking for affirmation or something like that. Anyway I have a Dream Catcher hanging from the mirror in my truck. Often I am asked why? My answer is that "it keeps me out of harms way". Then they laugh and say "sure it does". Then they laugh. I know they do not believe me, but it is really true. My "Dream Catcher" works. Believe it or not, "it works". It works for me. Why? Because I believe, That's why. I believe because I make it work. I make it work by dedicating it to God, my family and my friends. When I get into my truck the first thing I see is my Dream Catcher. It reminds me of my family and my friends and makes me think about the way I drive. It is constantly in my vision. While I am driving it continually reminds me to drive defensively. You bet it keeps me safe. It keeps me safe by always reminding to drive safe. Does it matter that I am part Indian. No, but I am proud of it. That must be the reason I started out with "I am part Indian"

You are all CROOKS

Well most of you. Why? (there's that word again) Why? Why? Think, Yes, I would like you to think. Also, I am included. I am as guilty as you are. We, that's right, we. We all feel it is OK to cheat the other guy just a little bit. You know sell somebody something without telling the whole truth. Let them find out after they bought it. Let them find out after they signed the contract. "Caveat emptor" "Let the buyer beware" Fancy words for "screw the buyer". This attitude is prevalent all through our society. Every thing you buy, from warranties on your TV;s to warranties on your new cars. All lies.....all frigging lies. You (and me ) are getting screwed (no kissing) every single day of our lives. The Nigerian scams are child's play compared to what American Companies do to us. Who do you think run these companies. You do. You and your thieving neighbors. We all cry about the Bankers, the Wall Street Boys and the Big Business CEO's. They are stealing our money. Bull Pucky Nobody really cares about what they steal. We are really pissed off because we are losing our gig. We are losing our opertunity to screw our neighbors. That is all we care about. We are losing the chance to get ours. Maybe we have sold our country out. Maybe we should look into ourselves. Maybe if we were to return to honesty our country would become great again.

I think I think........

As I watch the current political battles raging back and forth, an interesting thought keeps flowing through my head. None of them care about you. Yep that's right. they only care about them selves. And..............It is my opinion that the high spending President Obama is just like the rest of them. Greedy and power hungry. Think about it................who stands to gain the most? Who keeps the power? What does it matter to them how many poor slobs go hungry? Just think about it. Just think about it. What is the answer? If I knew I would run for president and they would Hitlerize me. Get it? They would make me look so bad that anything I said would be laughed at. They? Who are they? Now there is something to think about. What was that in my coffee this morning? Burnt (there, I used it anyway) toast. Dam I love Burnt toast. What is the difference anyway? Burnt.........Burned.............I'll Google it.

Why?

Why Burned Toast and Coffee? First, Burnt was already taken. I'll have to google that and see whose site I tried to steal. Second, I love burned toast. It tastes great when dunked in the coffee. Third, I'm getting tired of cross word puzzles. Fourth, I get all these crazy thoughts and have to spill them all over somebody, Why not you? I thought about an adult site with sexy women but quickly realized my thoughts would not be able to compete with sexy women so I will just ramble along hoping to catch a reader now and then. My thoughts will be political, religious and yes, sometimes provocative. I will post only 2 0r 3 times a week and that will probably use up most of my thought in about 2 months. When I exhausted all of my intelligence or stupidity (depending on your view) I will then be able to publish my memoirs and dunk my toast in peace.