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.