Cold Feet


The sun is surely in the winter doldrums
Its’ shows up late every morning
And leaving early at the end of the day
With no enthusiasm to share any of its’ warmth


What about the rest of us
Caught up in the sun’s cyclical moods
Having to face all on our own
Arctic cold fronts,
Cars that won’t start
Furnaces that won’t shut off
With cold feet, cold hands and faces
And (SAD) Seasonal Affective Disorder


Yes we could leave
Enticed by family and friends
Who boast of warmer climes
Of topical islands
Lust and green

Az temp

But what about the others
Who have to remain behind
Now that the holidays are over
Who can they complain too?
What is misery if it can’t be shared
So we stay put
With the other fools
And do our countdown

To when the sun may change her mood


Curious Friday: Revealing the My True Self to Me


It has been said “in life as social creatures
What we reveal to others of ourselves
Is the view of what we ourselves’
Wish Ourselves to be”
Noble, honest, caring and intelligent
Not to be better than others
But at least as good

Yet throw in a Natural Resource Stewards’ Christmas party
With a Tacky Xmas Present Swap
A dancing chicken who has made an appearance two years in a row
And the core myself crumbles at its foundation
For I want the chicken, wanted last year too.
What does that say about me?
Who am I deep down within my essence?
If I had seen it in the store, I would never think to buy it.
So why want it? Was it the Egg Nog?
And what about the others that were there,
What do they think of me now?

So now the dancing chicken is mine, at least for a year
Until it is re-gifted, brought back to where it came from
Thinking of ways to repair the damage of one self’s image
Maybe write a book “A year in the Life of a Dancing Chicken and Me”
Something meaningful, something redeeming
Something that puts me and the dancing chicken in a better light

Dancing chicken and friends

A Standard Time


It’s been pumpkins
Goblins, princesses,
Zombies and more
No control with left-over candy
Snow in the forecast
And now time changes
A mind in overload
An internal clock
In conflict with the outside world
Two times zones trying to adjust


Against the back drop
Of winters’ approach
When the night overcomes the day
And the sun at its’ height
Provides no warmth
Maybe I go back to bed
To wake in the spring
We’ll see how the day goes
To give my brain time
To rewind
To set back or forth
To a standard time

Time Zone Funk

Weekly Photo Challenge: Re-Signed to Using a Slightly Used, But Helpful Sign


Many signs are just trying to sell you something, that you really don’t need or want.

But once in the while there is that helpful sign, as you travel down life’s road

Who knew that in less than a year after originally posting , that a challenge would come up about signs
So forgive me for reusing

Meeting the Fosters’


My tale begins with a city guy (me from NYC) who moves his family to the woods (NH), without a clue. It has been 37 years now and in some ways still clueless.
I had finish a jobs’ program as a boat carpenter while living in NY. Whereas we spent most of our free time camping and exploring upstate NY. Why not move to the country?
So heading north to New England, finding a job in a boat yard
I brought the family here and we spend the summer camping, while I worked and looked for an apartment.
The job was okay, but trying to find an apartment with 2 girls and a dog was a problem.
Places were either willing to take the kids, but no dog or take the dog but no kids.
It wind forcing our hand, if we decided to stay we would have to look for a place of our own or move back to NY.
We did find a place 6 acres out in the woods, a little more than 6 miles from town.
To the town of Farmington, where it just had its’ first murder in 22 years, death by bow and arrow.
Where the principal of the school where my girls wind up going, asked how we had come to moved to the end of the world?


I know I have have lost most of you who have moved on to better blogs, but for the few reminding here is the meat of the tale.
Once we were settled in and we started to travel the area, we started to notice that more than half the folks mailboxes around here had the name ‘Fosters’.
Now you would expect in a place where generation after generation still living in the community, there be a lot of folks with the same name, But the ‘Fosters’ were everywhere.
Us having just bought a home (a shack really) with plan to build our house the following spring. We had to wonder,
Did we make the best move? Was there a lot of in-breeding going on? Did we move too far into the woods?
It wasn’t until a few weeks later in a conversation with some folks at the town dump. I asked why there were some many Fosters’. Well the laughter began by all parties but me.
For as it turned out it wasn’t mailboxes with the name on it, but newspaper boxes for the the ‘Fosters’ Daily Democrat’ a daily paper in these parts.
My only defense is to say is that we didn’t have newspaper boxes in city,or having grown up on papers with names like the ‘Post’, ‘Daily News’, ‘Herald’, or the ‘Times’ who ever heard of a newspaper named ‘Foster’, so how would I know?


We all have our tales, whether we share them or not. I might do some sharing as time goes on.
Thank you for staying and listening, I really am harmless.

Curious Friday: Hopeless Self

We stopped off for dinner on our way home after work the other night. We shared a sandwich and some Sun Chips when I came upon this “Smiley” one below.


I saved it and brought it home to take a picture(s) of it.

Now I am curious as to why I did this and to the idea that I would even think to post something this stupid,
but as you can see I did.

Thinking about it I’m pretty sure if we happen upon each other on the street, you most likely would see me and cross the street and just say he belongs to a different blogger-sphere.

I realize I have a problem and will try to fix with the remainder of this life, going into the next.

Thanks for your understanding

After doing all this, at least I can say I ate the God…. thing

A Gentle Reminder From the Sky


Yesterday as thunderstorms were rolling in, I went out to the truck to get some tools out of the back. When behind me I heard a gentle thud, turned around and saw these balloons had drop from the sky.
So I brought them into the house where they rested on the floor of our small dining room.
Two hours later, after the storm had passed they popped back up to the ceiling.
It was odd and what makes this even odder is that, today is my daughter’s (who lives in NC) birthday
So I can take a hint and will remember to call her this morning and even send a picture of the balloons
That were a gentle reminder from the sky