I'm Back

Free from crutches and the walking boot, I grabbed ski poles and, giddy with anticipation, I headed out to visit my mistress/therapist. I knew she would be good rehab for my Achilles surgery and she would never complain about my taking it slow and easy.  As I rolled into the parking lot and threw the transmission in park, I glanced up.  She looked, as always, enduring in the morning sun. 

Red Stripe

The cloudless blue sky makes for an intense afternoon sun as I ease my car into the parking lot at the trailhead. Several unoccupied cars are scattered in the lot as I quietly slip out of the driver's seat and gently push the door closed to keep the area quiet with solitude. I glance around to get a feel for the surroundings and something catches my eye. 

It's red, beat up and laying on top of a yellow painted, concrete pedestal that serves as a stout base for a parking lot light.

A Legend?

Like a rodent hunched up in the corner, clutching food in tiny raised hands, he stares blankly from his dark eyes that are set deeply in their hollow sockets. His greasy dark hair is slicked tight to his forehead while his whiskery jaw rapidly gyrates while chewing up his food. Boney fingers busily chase the last remnants of tuna around the inside of the circular tin and, hours later, he's naked and rolling around on the trailer floor convinced he is going to die.

Thank You

This blog was created 2 months ago in a foggy, pain killer induced state of mind.  A filleted Achilles tendon stifled any activity from my body while dope rendered my brain useless as I floated around in puffy white clouds, sparkled with fairy dust, talking to polka-dotted elephants. I had no purpose in life while rotting away in bed. I don't Facebook, Google +, tweet, instagram and had never read a blog. A person can only do nothing for so long. So, while incapacitated, I read a friend's blog and liked it.  And while drifting around in glittery clouds, I told myself to create a blog and promised myself to create a daily post until I returned to work.

Moustache Unplugged #10

Hehehe...undetected, I've grabbed the opportunity to work on my letter...


Dear Principals of Elementary Schools,

In no way do I blame the following on you, but I must remind you of something that occurs on your school grounds twice every school day.  It involves the ultimate display of human self-importance and I hope you hire one big, hairy legged, knuckle dragging, tobacco-spittin', hard-ass P.E. teacher to be your enforcer.

Good Fortune

The antique stock truck, hauling a red bull in the back, sputtered, coughed and jerked to a stop on the side of the road.  The gas gauge incorrectly showed a quarter tank, but I recognized the symptoms and knew I had just run out of gas...with a bull...and a dog...out on the Escalante desert...with no gas can...with about 15 miles to town.

Ah shit!

The Coat

It patiently hangs around, with dangling threads, silently watching over things and is easily overlooked since it blends into the cluttered, hodge-podge collection strewn throughout the shop.  It's seen better days.  Burnt, torn and tattered, it can barely function but is kept more for sentimental reasons. 

My blanket-lined, Carhartt Duck Chore Coat, a Christmas present over 25 years ago, anxiously awaits more use.

Eusocial

Like poorly behaved bar patrons getting evicted, I watch many getting physically thrown out.  Some try their best to cling onto the enforcer, pleading for another chance, but they eventually fall off and wander aimlessly in small circles near the main door. It's a pleasant summer afternoon and I cannot understand what is happening since so many are scattered across the ground.

I'm passing the neighbor's beehive and am stopped cold to watch nature in action.

Not For Me

Straddling on fences above the sweaty beast, I slowly ease myself lower. He thrashes around, crashing his head forward into the gate and banging his ribs against the metal panels that squishes my legs as I continue to drape them further down his sides. His bony spine jabs into my hind end while I try to find a seat along his sharp backbone as he slings snot and slobber. Happy Jack is not a big bull, but I was warned that what he lacks in size he more than makes up with speed.  And, he has a good set of horns that he knows how to use.

"He'll take two jumps out and then hit it hard to the left," I was told while positioning my bull rope.

Ol' Dawg

"James, wake up! You can't sleep here," said the cop while nudging a haphazard pile of filthy blankets with his toe. They were in the grungy basement laundry room of a rundown apartment complex. "C'mon James, get up! I convinced the family shelter down the street to admit a lone male...you're getting the last bed...I'll give you a ride."

"FUCK YOU!" replied James in his deep, cigarette-scratchy voice. "I'll walk down there myself! Asshole!"  With that, he was swallowed in the raging blizzard while marching towards the shelter with his blankets wadded under an arm.

Teton's Tub

Wave after wave, gentle crystalline waters rhythmically slapped the rounded stones at the shoreline.  Bubbles gurgled amongst the stones after the wave's retreat, only to be immediately drowned with the next wave.  A water-logged tree, with all its branches broken off from tumbling in the churning waves, was beached and targeted for use as my bath stand.

Jackson Lake in the Grand Teton National Park was going to be a very chilly bathtub.

Moustache Unplugged #9

Hehehe...undetected, I take the opportunity to write a letter...


Dear Warrior Dash,

In following the advice of many literary coaches to keep prose succint, YOU SUCK!

It Can Wait

I spot my quarry and thumb the accelerator. My old, dinky yet reliable 4-wheeler shoots across the dormant hay meadow, bouncing over frozen cow pies and shallow irrigation ditches. The cattle have already cleaned up all the hay dropped off the truck earlier this morning. With full bellies, some lay scattered in the field while others head to the river to drink. Low hanging branches beside the river are polished silky smooth from years serving as back scratchers. 

Noticing my approach, my target heads out. Although at full throttle, I press my thumb harder hoping to somehow get the 4-wheeler to go faster. Slowly, I get closer and closer.

Welcome Back

Laying motionless, they are sprawled out beside one another like college students on the front lawn of a university frat house the morning after an all night kegger. Because of the intense heat, they're intentionally spaced apart from one another, fearing any touching will intensify the nearly unbearable temperature. Face down with stretched necks and legs stiffly extended, they breath in concert to a slow and steady rhythm.  And, their wings flare out from their sides like stubby arms.

Peeps have been purchased and are sleeping under the intense red glow of the heat lamp.

Why Not

While seated at the cozy breakfast table and looking over my steaming coffee cup that was raised for a sip, I glanced out the picture window and couldn't believe my eyes. Coming straight across the  irrigated hay meadow, as if on a mission, an undeterred coyote was making a beeline to the ranch house. Jax and Tari were already outside and soon began barking as I went for my rifle.

Not So Fast

"Let pain be your guide," answered Doc when questioned how far I could push things during rehab.

Oh ya! It's finally time to feel wonderfully shitty, I rejoiced as if the reins that have kept me in check for the last 2 months were released.  Pain from my Achilles surgery will not thwart my desire to get back running on the single track trails, I boldly told myself.

The Tree

It stands alone, like a dedicated sentinel overlooking vast territory, motionless in its duty. Although it makes no noise in an attempt to communicate, it somehow reaches out and draws me near. It offers peace, solitude and deep reflection. It's my spot. 

Others have a similar area.  An aging recliner with smooshed cushions, a wooden adirondack chair with chipped paint or a beat up lawn chair with sagging web straps. Mine happens to be a tree.