Circumnavigating the Boundries of History

     There once was a concept that we called time.  We sort of worshiped it and ran our lives around it, trying sometimes even to beat it.  Yet in doing so we often got depressed when we felt we didn't have enough of it or we hadn't received our own share of it, so we began in those particular moments to live in the past.  This was always due to our thought patterns that we hadn't accomplished enough or what we did, somehow didn't live up to our own standards, or worse yet, live up to someone else's standards.
      Of course, then being anxious for various reasons, whether it be to finish the bucket list or to correct some inherent miscue in previous attempts, we began living in the future, though we didn't exactly know the parameters involved, so we ended up squandering the present.  You don't have to unwrap it, or wonder why or if, you just have to accept as it unfolds or is accepted since it was already given.
       So to gather no moss, or to attract something we wish for just go with whatever flow arrives, play freely, dance with abandon, and realize there really isn't any time so to speak of, just those nagging flash backs, or feelings when we begin to reflect.  There is no harm in reflecting because that is after all the dignity and pride involved with being human.  Just realize you don't have to linger or attach some form of judgement on the reflection, just smile, enjoy, be happy, don't worry and move ever so eloquently into the next moment when it chooses to occur.  If anyone by chance is reading this malarkey I bid you a fond farewell and a good clean feeling about the future.....Me

A Day in the Life of a Sand Tart

Now I'm not warning you to stay away, or to serendipitously close or put your hands over your eyes when you gaze into the time travels of "Sand Tart" peaks and valleys as it goes through the portals from the dough being made, it being rolled out, egg washed and sprinkled with a sugar and cinnamon mix, baked, cooled and transformed into bagged product ready to be delivered by elves to the customary victims of chance, but whatever you tend to get all over yourself will certainly have been by choice.
      This is a yearly endeavor put into what I usually call my industrial sized brain matter by my dear departed Mother.  Even is she wasn't feeding us these Jewels of the Nile while we were growing up and handing them out to the neighborhood kids so she knew where her kids were, but after we made the leap of faith into our own silly dilly dallying daily lives, allowing her to enjoy an empty nest sort of feeling, she kindly sent once a year these gorgeous creatures either in a coffee tin or old shoe box, as if she was the second coming of the lady who lived in a shoe, to our humble abodes scattered across the continental United States as any coalition of Military Brats would have the tendency to do.
       Since there is a visual I won't waste anymore of your time, detailing or explaining the course of Sand Tart events, but only state that whatever mindset you encounter the rest of the day, your mouth, your taste buds and your brain are only going to linger in a cerebral labyrinth wishing you were here, but realizing you are rather there and in no proximity to produce the party in your mouth that these babies do.  Until then, I bid you a fond farewell, and a gracious and motivating holiday season with friends, neighbors, family and co-workers.....Steven

Someone Left the Cake Out in the Rain...

     As I wander through the diversity of parking lots on delicate missions to facilitate my desires I often peer into the fortunes behind the mythical and mystical nuances behind the bumper sticker dialogue deluge.
      Often I get this militaristic imagery of " FREEDOM ISN'T FREE ..." and of course I lament over it's characteristic solioquoy.  I recall instead the stylistic ramblings of Janis Joplin instead, hoping of course to wash whatever flavor profiles are left in my taste buds for moments at a time, " FREEDOM'S JUST ANOTHER WORD FOR NOTHING LEFT TO LOSE..." end game slowly realized.  Not that there is any stratification going on here, but one I can hum the tune to, or just fake it, or get my fist pumping head throbbing candy coated popcorn and a prize feeling, like so many other unorthodox things are prone to do.
     Freedom, as any neuron firing escapade that shakes, rattles and hums when I get the tune down to a score is not won by challenging the mindset of another culture, or pursuing this concept of protecting our own spacial anomaly by imposing our will onto someone Else's structural foundations when we fear they are trying to do the same to us. No, I preclude or have a perception that this elusive concept of " Freedom " is really just a state or frame of mind. You don't own it, it is given freely, and it can leave without warning, take you by surprise and hopefully when it is realized will take your breathe away.
       Some idea that you have to fight your way out of a paper bag, dry a wet towel out somewhere high up in the Himalayas to relieve yourself of the burden of subjugation  is just pure and simple poppycock to persuade you to become another member falling off the back of a turnip truck.
        As the song often laments, someone left the cake out in the rain, I don't think I can take it, because it took so long to bake it and I'll never have that " recipe " again or I started a Joke, that started the whole world laughing, I myself laughed so hard, I fell out of bed, bumping into my own head, until I realized the joke was on me.  Take your Lego's, your Lincoln Logs and go outside and play until I call you late for dinner....

It's Getting to Feel Alot like Christmas

     Joy to the World with a little pomp and circumstance.  Does the crisp air and the bare trees begin to make you feel like a kid again.  Like for instance as I did hiding underneath the cherry wood dining room table that had two four legged support beams on Cannington Drive in San Diego one year, so I could catch Santa pitching Tent and gobbling up the cookies and milk as he pilfered from his bag of treats what he felt was missing underneath the Yuletide Tree. This particular table came from Edgemere, a small town near Baltimore, Maryland, from my mother's, Mom. Yes, for the first time in oh so many years we are not erecting a fresh cut tree, but rather replacing it with a Fiber Optic Sue.  As the storyline has it, a friend of Joyce's named June, who's daughter Sue decided to move on something she held dear,made Joyce the recipient of such a Joy to Behold.
     So upon arrival home from work last night, an unexpected treat was mine to experience as I walked into the dining room from the garage and there stood, short and proud the Fiber Optic Sue.
     Whether you have been naughty or nice, a Grinch or are into any of a smattering of Christmas Spirit, gaze a little on the simple Joys of starting the Holiday Season and feel the effervescence of the pulsating fiber optic nuances. I bid you Happiness, a Merry Christmas and a fond farewell for now.