Let The Music Move Ya!

She Rides Shotgun (part 2)

(PART 2… Continued from PART 1 below…)

Okay, so how do you figure out what direction you're headed in? How do you know where you're supposed to go, or, if you're on the right track? What is YOUR destiny? Or for that matter... What IS destiny?

These too, are questions that may never really get answered to your full satisfaction, but they can. Paths, roads, and destiny are a whole subject unto themselves. A lot of the definition depends on your spiritual and personal philosophies, and the depth to which you are dedicated to look at yourself… What do you really think? Do you believe that you are entitled to be happy, fulfilled, and prosperous? Or do you believe suffering in this life, guarantees your position in the next life? Do you think you are special? With a very specific purpose that can enhance the lives of others? Or do you believe you're just another lost soul simply wandering this unfamiliar plane until your time is up?

Alright, now forget all of the ambient white noise in the background. Ignore, for just a moment, all that you have been taught. What do you really FEEL? In your heart. Deep down in the depths of your soul... What do you feel? HONESTLY. Deeply. Freely. Sincerely. Truly. Who do you feel you are? Not who 'Who do you believe, or think you are?', but WHO do you FEEL like? Your mind thinks, and believes, but your heart feels. Your mind is conditioned. It is taught and shown what to accept as truth. Fed from external sources, your mind can be so easily manipulated, trained, and tricked. Your heart, when fed with wholesome ingredients and is properly nourished, it will always lead you in the right direction. It is your internal guide. Your compass. It will never misguide you, so long as you stay connected to your divine core… your humbled soul.

Since the beginning of time, and still, many native customs, religions, and cultures perform divinations for newborns to determine, among other things, the child's destiny. This equips the parents and guardians with the information needed to ensure their child is brought up in accordance with the child's own individual path, thereby creating the best possible environment for living that destiny, a measure for fulfilling life's divine mission for each person. On a very basic level, it gives you a template to build upon.

Okay, so your parents didn't communicate with the ‘other side’ when you were born, and you aren't really sure what your destiny is. Granted. Most of us modern day westerners didn’t. You don’t know what your destiny is, and all this talk about it might be uncomfortable. So, how can you find out what yours is? How do you know if you're on the right path? What if you're in the wrong job, with the wrong person, living in the wrong place? How would you know if you were following your destiny or not? Is there a right or wrong answer? Is there a way to find out for sure? On your own, without a fortune teller, a see-er, or a psychic?

Certainly there is!

On a very simple scale you can start by taking a look at the activities you are involved in. Which make you happy? Which fulfill you? Is there a job you'd love to do even if you were paid little or nothing? What things come naturally to you? Are you always getting compliments on how well you perform certain tasks? What are your special gifts? How do you affect people? How do they affect you? What sets you aside from others? What makes you different, unique, odd, interesting, … talented…? What drives you, motivates you, inspires you? What do you give of yourself?

These questions will often begin your journey in the right direction to defining your destiny. Are you on a road fraught with misery and pain? Do you find life a burden? Do you wish for more? Do you feel empty and hollow... like something is missing? Do you feel as if you are trying to force a round peg into a square hole?…

As you begin to draft and follow your soul map, you move closer to own personal heaven on earth. Closer to your dreams, and live more closely aligned to your life's purpose - whatever it may be. Your vision becomes clearer, enabling you to see better, to react quicker, and more appropriately to a given situation. You learn to be still and listen, how to recognize the signs, what each one means, and what to look for. You learn how to modify your pace, and adjust your steps as you navigate all of the inevitable obstacles along your paved yellow concrete road. You'll learn what luck, windfalls, and bonuses look like, if there is such a thing. You'll know how to change course, when to no avail, you find yourself pushing too hard in the wrong direction. You’ll know when you find yourself repeating cycles of which you already know the outcome.

When you judge yourself by your perception of how others' view you, and not what you know of yourself, you subsequently limit your abundant potential and relinquish your own divine power.



…To Be Continued…Back in a few days…

Here's your daily dose of some of the good stuff! ;-) Enjoy!

She Rides Shotgun (part 1)

So, I've been writing a book entitled She Rides Shotgun. It's about allowing your destiny be your guide. About letting your true self ride shotgun, in the passenger seat of your life... Or to the contrary, NOT letting your true self ride shotgun, but actually take the driver's seat, the steering wheel, and get you to your destiny... or destination.

I couldn't wait to share, so I decided to preview it here as I work through some of the final chapters.

So come along... walk with me... ride with me... and let's see where we end up...







Who am I?

What is my purpose? Why do certain things happen to me? Where am I headed? How do I know if I'm on the right track? Can you count the number of times you've asked yourself these questions? I can't… and there are many more questions. Questions which may, during the course of a lifetime, never get answered. At least not with answers we're satisfied with. Ones that really make sense. We ask questions, get no useful answer, and we just keep rolling along like ole man river. ..... We don't say no-thing. We just ke-e-ep roll-ing aalo-o-o-ng ... " Living our lives involuntarily. Just going with the flow. Landing wherever fate tosses us.

A lifetime can be spent spinning in the revolving door of unconsciousness. On an infinite carousel. Never really feeling satisfied. Never feeling whole, or complete. Still asking the same questions. Some people really believe that "Life's a bitch and then you die!". Believing the ‘life experience’ is a round trip to hell and back. Many awake to the realization that they've spent way too much time waiting. Waiting for some kind of magic to happen on one of those boring, mundane revolutions, around that safe, stable, axis holding existence in place. One day, suddenly it dawns on them, that they have squandered valuable, irreplaceable time doing nothing, by limiting themselves to only that which they know.


So long as we keep pushing that revolving door, and keep up a steady enough pace, we could quite possibly be there forever, spending a good part of our lives on that precarious tight rope of chance. How many miserable old farts do you know? How many baby boomers do you know, who just 'never got it together'? How many times have you thought you were too exhausted to fight and decided to just settle for whatever luck happened to drift in, accepting whatever unknown comes your way?

Too many of us spend our lives waiting for the universe to 'overnight' us a winning lottery ticket. Or at the very least some kind 'sign' that we're moving in the right direction. Problem is, most of us, don't have a clue where we're trying to go, let alone how to decipher or navigate the map to get there. Even more challenging is trying to create a map to follow when your whole sense of direction is distorted. A sure recipe for misery, and quite possibly a disaster.


Here's a hypothetical exercise: Get up right now... head for the door, turn the knob, walk outside, take a few steps ... and meet me at my cousin's house.

Yeah… you heard me….!

Meet me at my cousin's house!

She's on the 2nd floor. She loves teddy bears. I think she may still collect them. Oh, and make sure you prepare yourself for the weather; it's been pretty extreme for the season. See you at 7!…

Huh?!!!

Indeed, it would be almost impossible for you to get to my cousin's house with those instructions. They are pretty specific. Aren't they? 2nd floor... teddy bears... let's meet at 7...?

True, they are specific, but not clear enough for you to decipher any meaningful directions. To get a clearer picture, you'd need better information upon which to build. This would require you to ask some very specific questions. It might help to know where my cousin lives ... What city? What street? Which building? What she looks like? What's her name? I might answer, “She lives in Richmond, VA... lives on James Street... in the 4-story gray building next to the park... and so on. But that still might not be enough information to get you there by 7. Oh, and by the way, is that 7 am or pm? Because that could change everything!

This is the same way many of us travel through life. Not really clear on our directions. No maps. No guides. Just lowly individuals, hoping to avoid pain. Sometimes with no real hope of happiness. We just want to experience as little pain as possible while we're here, so we spend our lives moving, searching for a comfort zone. Seeking asylum in the least resistive spaces and finding contentment in this effortless destiny. 'You Live and You Die', is the mantra of many. They believe it, they live it, and they unconsciously manifest it, when they accept it as their truth. It becomes their reality, and their very existence turns into a laborious task of choosing the lesser-perceived evils.

What happens when you change your mantra? What happens when change your sacred words? Can you then change your life? Yes you can! Absolutely! Unequivocally! YES YOU CAN!!! You can manifest your dreams into reality by changing the way you see things…which will change how your react to things. You can design your own life map by putting yourself in the driver's seat. In the process you not only find out where you're headed, but you learn how to get there… how to follow the cues… how to pace yourself on the journey… and how to overcome your obstacles. So much more is revealed to you.

Once you draw your map, and begin to follow it, you realize that the secret of life is not hidden. It is right before your eyes. (…To Be Continued…Back in a few days…in the meantime, read or listen to Center Yourself below… )

CENTER YOURSELF
Center yourself

Right down the middle
Align yourself
With your sense of being
Be at peace with your core

Bask in the essence of you
Relish in the knowledge
That God created you special

With purpose
With intent
With destiny

God created you
With spirit
With ability
With power

The power to touch
To taste
To feel
To be
One
One with self
One with breath
One with power
One with depth
One with possibility
One with strength
One with the energy
One with sense, of mind

She has bestowed
Upon you the gift of life
So cherish it
Nurture it
Take care of it
This mind, body and soul
You are privileged to occupy

Honor your space
Celebrate your place
Grow with the challenges you face

Develop your character
And
Modify your pace

Humble your heart
Balance your light and dark

Revere your ancestors
Respect the universe
And the ocean
And the moon

Live in truth
Don’t focus on others
Focus on you

Less on material wealth
Immunize your spiritual health
And you will find
The secret of life
Is not hidden
It is right before your eyes

Accessible
Completely within your touch
Within your command
You stand
At the helm of your fate

You control your state
Don’t use your energy
Inefficiently
Use it wisely
Deciding you WILL
Be a peace

Calm yourself
Listen closely
And you will hear
The clues are always there
When you relieve yourself
Of the stress
And begin to feel God in your chest

Be at peace
Release
Allow it to flow
Allow peace into your soul

Free your mind
And the rest will follow
Close your mind
And remain shallow
Or empty, and hollow

Swallow your pride
And realize
That the soul is divine
And so too the mission

So as you define your position
Listen to your head

Feel the sun rise in the east
And your human self
Will always be at. . .

So, center yourself

Right down the middle

Align yourself

With your sense of being

Be at peace with your core

The Longest Night... Might try to film this soon...

Stay close by and I'll let you know when the sequel is done. It sheds light on what really happened and how she found herself so tangled in this crazy web of chance.... Enjoy!

The Longest Night

I could see his reflection, and the reflection of the clock in the moon roof. The time was 3:18 am, and the expression on his face was of sheer terror. I was paralyzed. Fear had gripped my soul so tight, the rush of adrenaline in my system was about to make me lose my lunch. The horror was gut wrenching. The feeling was far beyond the realm of anything I could have imagined. All I could think about was "Would I have to be on television? Would my face be on the news? In the paper? On the net?!". I thought about how ashamed my mother would be of me. What my co-workers would think, and the rumors they’d spread. My mind raced through time and space. Through every thought, time, and place Id ever been. My life flashed before me in ways Id never seen. And now I lay in a car, with my panties around my ankles with a corpse (whose last name I don’t even know), lying next to me with his face splattered all over his leather interior. I didn’t even know what kind of car it was. I was weak with anxiety. The pit of my stomach quivered. I couldn’t decide what to do. I couldn’t decide if I should get out and run for help, or if I should stay my ass in the car in case they were still around.

They. Who ever they were. I hadn’t the vaguest clue. Hell, I didn't even know who he was! I decided to stay in the car, at least for the time being, while I thought things through. Or at least tried. I couldn’t remember my cell phones emergency code, and didn’t have the strength to go digging through my purse for it. Was it 911? Or was is # something, or * something I wanted so desperately to stop trembling long enough to sit up and look around to see if the coast was clear. I knew I had to do something but my nerves were so bad I could hardly think. Or even move for that matter. I replayed the whole day over and over again in my mind. My thoughts were cluttered. They even sounded cluttered in my head. And loud! Loud like confusion. Like the noise you get from having the tv, radio and the vacuum cleaner all on at the same time. I tried to lock in on one thought at a time. Again, and again I tried to replay the day to see if there had been any clues, or any warning signs that should have tipped me off . . .

That day . . .

It was Friday, the thirteenth. Really! I got off work early. It was the due date of my payment arrangement with the phone company, and the last day I could pay my bill before the phone got cut off. And I had to get to the office before they closed. I left work, cashed my check, and headed for the phone company. I worked downtown so I only had to walk about 5 or 6 blocks. The line was short, so I was in and out in less than 10 minutes. The phone bill was paid. That burden was off my mind, so I went to get some food, a new pair of shoes, and stop by my friend’s job and see if she wanted to go out later on. She said shed love to, but shed have to bring David, one of her bed buddies. She knew I hated being a third wheel, and so she conveniently said she would ask David’s best friend Roger, if he’d like to come. She convinced me it would be fun. "It is not a date," she assured me "were just all gonna kick it!" Cool. I went along with it. I told her Id be at her house around 10, and I left.

At 8:12 she called me to say that the guys were picking her up at 10:30, and they would come and get me around 10:45. Great. I had a few more hours, so I took my time getting ready. I put a bowl of leftover pasta in the microwave; ate, and watched a Good Times rerun. It was the one where Thelma’s family went to dinner at Ibe’s house. And they announced they were getting married and Thelma was moving to Africa. I caught the last half of the show, and took my time getting ready. At 11:16 pm my doorbell rang. I grabbed my purse, jacket, hit the lights, and left. My friend met me in the lobby, and as we walked out the car she explained they were late because the guys had to stop off somewhere before they picked her up, and that David didn’t drive, Roger did. And since she and David were kicking it, she recommended that I sit up front, so her and Dave could be close in the back seat. I agreed. No problem.

I began scoping the scene as we got closer. His car was nice. It was some kind of import, worth at least 40 or 50 grand. I took a couple of quick looks at the driver, but it was dark, so I couldn’t really see him that well. But as we got closer. . . He looked better and better. And up close, he was fine. Fine. He was gorgeous. His smile was impeccable. His face was chiseled. His skin was dark and smooth. His bald head glared the street lights in my eyes. He was fine. Drop dead fine! But non of that really mattered. This wasn't a date.

We wound up going to a different club from the one my friend and I had decided on earlier. When we pulled up there was a guy going into the club that David had beef with, so we went somewhere else. The night went on. Roger was a gentleman. He opened doors, bought drinks, and didn’t bother me with any of those standard club clichés. We talked for a long time at a table in the corner of the club. It was a dark, warm, cozy, and secluded spot, and the Long Island Ice Teas were starting to make me a bit carefree. I was really started to like him. He was a classy man, with a great sense of humor. And certainly know how to tease a woman, and, for some reason I didn’t stop him from feeling me up under the table. Thanks goodness we were at the club, had this been some other time and place, it would have definitely turned into something else. I was really digging him. Every so often my friend and David would come by the table, share a few laughs and disappear again.

The DJ announced "last call for alcohol!" at 1:30 am. The place closed at 2. Roger and I both passed on another drink, but when we saw David leaving the bar with fresh drinks, we deduced we’d be there until they closed.

"What are you doing after this?" Roger asked me.

I knew what that meant. "Nothing in particular," I responded, ". . . ‘Ill probably just go home and go to bed. I’ve Got to do laundry in the morning".

"I could help you." he offered.

"You want to help me do laundry?" "No. I want to help you go to bed." he smirked.

He was almost irresistible. But I wasn’t sure I wanted to take him home with me. After all, this wasn’t a date.

The lights came on as soon as David and my friend made it back to the table. It was 1:56 am when we walked out of the club. We walked 2 blocks to the car. Both couples walked separately, hand-in-hand. This couldn’t be a date, could it?

David announced he was spending the night at my friends place, so that saved Roger a 45 minute drive to the suburbs.

"How about a bite to eat before the night is over?"

"The night? It’s morning already."

"Okay, how about an early breakfast then?"

"No thanks." I responded.

"Why not, you must want some food after all of those Long Islands you sucked down." he quipped. "The food will soak up some of that alcohol in your stomach. You won’t wake up with a hangover." "Plus you’ll sleep better," he added.

"No thanks," I said again, I should have been offended by his sarcastic lush joke. "I’ve got food at home. I’ll be fine, thank you." I replied.

"And besides," I continued, "...Breakfast might make this a date." We laughed. He opened the car door for me, and we took the two horny dogs in the back seat home.

The ride was smooth. The car rode over every bump in the road, like we were gliding on air. It smelt pretty good too. It was a combination of new car smell, and Egyptian musk. I couldn’t help but comment on his beautiful smile. He said he wore braces as a child. The conversation was pretty dull until his fingers started climbing my skirt again.

"You better stop that," I said sheepishly, pushing his hands away. "Your hands are pretty busy aren’t they?"

"Huh?"

"You heard me. Why are your hands so busy?"

"Well," he began, "when they see something they like, and that something is as sexy as you, I have no control over them. You know what I mean?"

"No," I answered, "I don’t know what you mean."

He laughed at my answer.

I stared out of the window, and watched the reflection of the car in storefront windows as we drove down the street. It was quite an impressive car. I wondered what he did for a living. I wondered what his house looked like. I wondered what his parents looked like. I wondered if he had a girlfriend.

"Do you have a girlfriend?"

"Who me?" he asked

"No, not you! Of course you!, Who else could I be talking to?"

"Well, it depends."

"Depends on what?"

"On which one of us you ask. Me or her"

"I’m asking you."

"No, I don’t."

"Oh really? Well then, what would she say?"

"Shed probably say. . ." he paused "Hmmm, ya know..... I don’t know what she’d say. Would you like to call her and ask? Here you can use my phone..."

"You are a smart ass. Do you know that?"

"So, I’ve been told." he murmured, as he threw that million dollar smile on me.

At 2:39 am we pulled into a gas station. He got out to pump and pay for the gas. He asked if I wanted anything. I asked for a Coke and a Mr. Goodbar. The chocolate and caffeine was sure to keep me perky until I got home. I watched his every move. I watched him go to the soda cooler. I watched him look for my candy bar. I read his lips at he talked to the attendant. They said "15 on 5, please". I watched him pump the gas. He smiled at me. I was feeling him. He got back in the car, and we headed to my house.

Roger was cool. He wore his seatbelt. He sat up straight, he wasn’t laid back like the guys in my neighborhood in their less expensive rides.

"You live by the lake right?"

"You picked me up, you should know." Now I was being the smart ass.

"Would you mind if we chilled out by the pier for a while before you went inside?"

I knew exactly where this was going. If I went to the lakefront with him, one thing would lead to another. And before you know it we’d be all over each other. I knew the deal.

"Sure." I said. He smiled, and then there was about 5 minutes of silence.

"I grew up around here." he began.

"Really?"

"Yeah, I lived about 5 blocks that way," he pointed, "and I went to Lakeview Junior High."

"Oh, so you know the area pretty well."

"Like the back of my hand."

We pulled up to a parking spot at 3:04 am. His hands were up my skirt again within minutes. Within minutes from that my bra was undone. And yet in a few more minutes he was trying to rip my panties off. My hands weren’t exactly idle either. He was huge. And so strong. His skin was tight, like he had stretched it over his muscles himself. And smooth. He was so smooth, like an collegiate athlete. He seemed so perfect. Except his attitude, that could have used an adjustment or two.

"I think we should slow down" I panted

"Why?" he asked

"I just think we should."

"I know you want to." he said.

"How do you know that?"

"I can feel it. . ." he whispered as he ran his hands across my kitty-cat. I was on my back. ". . . It’s hot" he said.

"I’ve got protection."

"Me too. In my purse"

"Oh, did you plan this?" he asked jokingly.

"I should be asking you that?" I remarked. We laughed.

He sat up and pulled a condom out of his wallet. It was a Magnum. I reclined my seat all the way back and adjusted myself accordingly. I slid my panties down around my ankles and kicked off my new shoes. He turned the music up.

I wanted him now. I didn’t care that I had just met him. He was the sexiest man I’d even been this close to. I wanted to feel him so bad.

In the blink of an eye a man in a black hoodie and ski mask appeared. He shoved a gun up against Rogers temple, mumbled something that sounded like "This is for . . .(something, something, something. . . ) muthafuka!!? What?!!! What?!!!" . . and pulled the trigger. Twice. Roger slumped completely over onto the passenger’s side, and his body fell to rest on my lap. It was that quick. No reaction time. I heard a few footsteps, and then a car drive away. It was only 3:18 am.

In retrospect nothing could have prepared me for that moment. No situation I had ever encountered in my existence had ever required as much composure and clear thought as I would have to muster. I said a prayer. And another. And Another. I just kept on praying. I asked for the strength to just make a decision on what to do next. Time seemed to move in such slow motion. "This was not happening", I kept telling myself. "Not happening!" The next minute seemed to linger on forever. Every second seemed like 20 minutes. I felt like I had been laying there for about 5 days. I had to do something. The weight of the dead man, both physically and psychologically, was too much for me to bear. The scent of the new car, and the Egyptian musk had suddenly been altered by the smell fresh of blood and gunpowder. I panted. Then gasped. Then panted. And gasped again. The lower half of my body was numb and naked. I could feel his blood filling up in my lap, running down my legs, and pooling up around me. He seemed to be getting heavier and heavier. I tried a few times to push him off, but I was too weak, and my hands kept slipping. I was overcome by heat and nausea. I just kept trying to prevent myself from going into shock. The radio was still on. I tried to regain my composure again. I fumbled around for the door handle, but it too was slippery. I cringed. My eyes started to burn, then water. Then burn some more.

At 3:41 am the glare of flashing lights and high beams broke my concentration. I knew instantly from the colors of the lights that it was the police. What would I say? Could I be suspect? Would they believe me? How would I prove that I wasn’t involved? I mustered up enough strength to lift my head a bit. I could only see part of the dash board. It was splattered with blood and bits of tissue. It was surreal. I was horrified. "Gather yourself and get out!" a little voice kept saying. "Get out. You have to get out now," it kept saying. "Right now!", it yelled. And then all of a sudden, everything I had been so afraid of seemed to challenge me all at once. I was overcome by a sense of urgency to get out of the damned car. The lights got brighter. I heard a voice. The amplified voice got louder. And closer. "The pier is closed," echoed through the air. It was 3:58. Again the voice rang out again "The pier is closed!" By the glare of the lights I could tell the squad car was in close proximity. In an instant, my soul dropped. It felt like relief. Consumed with desperation, this was the moment I felt like I had waited years for. I knew the time was now. I braced myself. One hand pushed Rogers head, the other grabbed my purse, I opened the door and ran straight for the lights. I stumbled a few times, and then fell to my knees. I remember hearing voices asking me what had happened, but I couldn’t say a word. I opened my mouth to speak but nothing came out. Then everything went dark.

At 8:55 I woke up in a hospital room. There was a woman sitting on a chair next to me. She said she was with the police department and she had to ask me a few questions, and then I would be free to leave. After a few hours of questioning, they told me I was free to go. They offered me a ride home. I declined. I caught a cab. We took Lake Shore Drive. We drove right past the spot. The car had been removed. Nothing was left to show for what had just happened a few hours ago. And as the scene faded in the distance I realized that the most horrific experience of my life meant nothing to anyone, but me. People walked the street like nothing had ever happened. My life would never be the same, yet I still had to go on. I had to tell my friend, and David. And maybe those closest to me. But I would have to deal with this for the rest of my life. I couldn’t imagine how I would cope. So many thoughts raced through my mind. I saw the cabbie looking at me through the rear view mirror. I looked like shit. I’m sure he wondered what my story was. I flopped into bed at 12:34, on Saturday afternoon.

I didn't wake up until 9:15 Sunday morning.

END.

That's the way she rolls..... :-)

“That’s the Way She Rolls” (hip hop) featuring your's truly over a beat by DJ Questionmark, aired in May, 09 on Live Roots TV Channel 17 Santa Barbara. The song and video were collaborated through the web. Big Ups to Mike on this one! We've gotta do this again... Burnin Babylon is next! :-)

Catch Mike at http://www.musicforfilmandtelevision.com/

Have you heard the one about the woman who walks into a (blog) bar...???

Greetings and salutations...

Hope everybody is staying on that daily grind... Be happy. Some folks don't have a 'grind'.

I thought long and hard about starting this blog. What would I talk about? How much time would it require to maintain, and could I be doing something better with that time? I contemplated, then justified all the reasons not to. It just didn't seem it would be my thing.... Although, I AM a writer, so I guess the writing part wouldn't be so bad. But what would it be about??? I honestly had never really followed anyone's blog, so the need to convert wasn't really there yet... Not until more that one elder told me to write and tell my story. They said would be important for me to write, share my stories, ideas, and give insight into the world of this lil African-'African-American' girl. (yeah that was an intentional double African'ism)... Then a few weeks ago I revisited my friend at marioinhydepark.blogspot.com, and it hit me like a ton of bricks!!!!!! Ah ha!!!! I NEED TO WRITE!

NEED was the operative word. NEED. Like a sick craving for something that feels so good, it feels taboo. I almost feel guilty retreating to the solace of words falling to blank paper like the lips of lovers touching like fingers caressing bodies, like....... Okay you get the picture. I not only love to talk, intellectualize simple ideas, and find hope where there seems to be only gloom and apathy (i love that word!), I LOVE TO WRITE! And now blogging will allow me to think out loud through the open window of cyberspace... whatever the heck that means!

It means my family may tolerate me more now that they can share me with the world, and someone else can shock-absorb my musings.

I luv this piece! Milwaukee Ave, Chicago, just east of Western.

It's all in the Jeans....!

Tee hee! Seems our Commander in Chief just isn't much into the whole blue jean look. Recently accused of wearing 'Mom Jeans', (rofl!!!), he does seem to be denimley challenged.

The last picture here is pretty nice though. :-)

It's okay Mr President.... We'll forgive you.... If you can name 5 Harold's chicken locations, you'll be all good with me.... Throw in the chicken shack #'s and you'll have my vote next go 'round! lol