What is Your Take on This?

Today was Little Boy Darling’s first day of school. Here he is, having been born—almost—on this blog for I wrote about his birth, his first plane ride to Hawaii, learning to walk there and those shoes that walked him instead of the other way around.  There on the Island he gave the baby goats, Do and Ra, their bottles, and watched them suck out the milk faster than any of us could get out a good sneeze. Now he is six years old and going to school.

I thought his main repertoire was  #Minecraft, #Nintendo, #Mario, #Sonic, computer games, yet when the school interviewer asked what he wanted to study, he said “Physics.”

“What do you want to study in physics?” she asked.

“Gravity,” he said. “That’s one of life’s great mysteries.”

I think he was playing for the audience, but it got him his first scholarship.

What I wanted to ask you was about the following:

There is a little girl at Little Boy Darling’s school, older that LBD and was there with her younger brother.  She had a red scarf completely covering her hair, and bore a bright red dress, as well as  heavy black tights that ended with socks and shoes. Her face was clear, as were her hands, but that was about all. Her little brother looked no different from the other boys in dress and behavior.

She was charming, friendly and talkative. It impacted me, though, painful to see a young filly tied up unnecessarily when her natural inclination is to kick up her heels.

I can do nothing I suppose except to know that she is attending a very free school where she can express herself, is democratic and encourages freedom of choice.

Of course we can all wonder how we have restricted ourselves or where we feel tied-up. Ours is self-imposed. Is hers?

Right now the clouds of morning have melted away and the sun is coming out blistering, and there within my experience is a little girl in a heavy scarf and long black stockings.

Did You Hear That?

Did you hear that?

So many friends have passed from this life to the next I’m surprised we don’t hear the partying in heaven. Say, maybe that’s what is keeping us awake nights.

Wayne Dyer, another fellow traveler on our highway of life, recently joined the fray. He died a few days ago, August 29, 2015

I have often quoted something similar to the above Dyer quote, and encouraged others to do the same—even if you heart’s desire is a pipe dream. The term pipe dream came from Opium smoking, but think about it, Lewis Carroll make good use of a drug induced dream in Alice in Wonderland, and people gobbled it up.

I’m not encouraging opium smoking; I’m not sure Carroll did either, people often attribute fanciful thinking with drugs. Carroll was a mathematician, a deacon, and a story teller—interesting combination. He also stuttered, but only in the presence of adults. He preferred the company of children, and it was a ten-year-old child, Alice, who begged him to write the story he had told them.

I’m not encouraging opium smoking; I’m encouraging doing what you want to do, dreaming what you want to dream, and going for it.

Remember Kermit the Frog’s song, 

“Sing, sing a song. Sing out loud, sing out strong, make it simple to last your whole life long. Don’t worry if it’s not good enough for anyone else to hear, just sing, sing a song.” 

                                                                --Joe Raposo, staff writer for #Sesame St.

Remember, it's your song, sing it whether anyone listens or not.

I had some verification of my work today when I got an email asking for my address so they could send me a fifty dollar check.  It appears they accepted my input on the Big Island of Hawaii for Via Magazine., an AARP publication.

I had forgotten I had sent that article. Isn’t that the way it is we put out an order, forget about it, then when it arrives it appears as if by magic?

From Africa to Purse Pups

I awakened on Tuesday morning missing Peaches and Bear.

The night before, daughter and I visited Golden Labrador puppies, turned out to be a puppy mill—that gave us cause for pause, although the puppies were adorable, I don’t know what to do with that information—numerous dogs in kennels, probably never get to run like a normal dog, never have an owner to bond with, but they do have other dogs. The owner is probably operating within the laws, size of runs, cleanliness, etc.  I also played with an exuberant shelter pup coursing through town on the way back to California. I declined both.

The next morning, Tuesday, my day off, it became clear that I wanted a small dog. I checked out poodle mixes on the Internet, and found two I was interested in in the Portland vicinity. I made an appointment—the woman was willing to drive from Vancouver to the airport area to meet me. I said I would call when I got to Willsonville, about 40 minutes away as she requested.

Wilsonville. There is a pet store in Wilsonville daughter and I visited on an earlier occasion—might as well check it out while I am here.

And there she was.

The pup I couldn’t refuge.

My pup.

A Mal Chi—A Maltese/ Chihauhau mix. A Purse pup.  An adorable, smart, gentle dog. She is so small she makes the cats look big. (So far,  no cat attacks, no dog attack.)

I was embarrassed to tell the lady I wasn’t coming to see her pup, but divine providence had led me to the pup that felt right.

The day before, Monday, I finished a novel—finished? If a book is ever finished. It is completed enough to enter a contest. And that’s where  “Africa” comes in.

It is on  https://www.wattpad.com/160719265-song-of-africa-part-1/page/3

P.S. Did I tell you that Peaches ‘ Veterinarian donated money to the Oregon State College of Veterinary Medicine in Peaches’ name. I am honored to have Peaches honored. (And Peaches helped me find the pup.)