The Quiet

Snow makes the world feel so vast and quiet.  Even in it's chill the blanket over the earth feels oddly solemn and secure.  Safe.

So, instead of braving snow.  As opposed to pulling on our mukluks and crushing into it we stare at it through window panes.  We hold warm exposed cups of coffee letting them rest next to our lip and below the tip of our noses.  We make it all Courier and Ives.  

Sometimes we let our cheeks fall against the cool glass and stare at the icicles sideways, anticipating tiny drips down.  We draw upon deep sighs and our breath broadcast in front of our faces.

Mostly we dwell in the supreme quiet.

Multi-Personality Stars

I'm thinking of a number between one and ten-

But why does it always have to be seven?

The cosmos have aligned and created peace on earth.  Wouldn't that be nice to know if was actually true?  Recently I have unearthed my international star registry plaque that was given to me years back.  Up in the clear night sky a supposed star exists that bears the name Megan Eileen Lohne.  Not just the first and the last, oh no, but the middle name as well.  All three words are emblazoned clearly in this framed collectible but it begs the question-is my star unique?  Does it have a personality and a supernova all its own.  Am I using that word correctly?

I heard once that they re-named stars repeatedly when this novelty of naming stars after loved one's was in vogue.   If this is true that means my star has a multi-personality disorder and for the most part is a dysfunctional piece of the intergalactic planetary.  If I were to go out right now and stare up toward the heavan's would my star call to me quietly-saying sppp, sppp...hey, you, we have something in common.

What I find most fascinating about the star's being named after people is that it gives us peons a grander feeling about where we stand in the galaxy.  Even if we never jettison out into weightless space we'll still be a part of it.  So, in essence, we name stars after ourselves to belong in the hugest high school in the sky.

But, does that make it right?  

A Clockwork McCain

A Mime Is A Terrible Thing To Waste

Seriously-think about the mimes.

Kiki and Wilson

This is the adorable big screen debut of two pups named Kiki and Wilson- a feisty American Eskimo and simon milk toast cocker spaniel who both attempt at canine connection but find that they are simply looking for love in all the wrong places.

Election Eve

Tomorrow is the big day.  Election day.  

While everyone and their third cousin twice removed believes that the winner has already been announced I'm waiting to find out myself.  In the interim discovering their deepest fears and the way they hide from the skeleton's in the closet is wearing me out.  Enough already.  The truth is tomorrow night when everyone is tucked tightly in their beds staring wide-eyed at the results we as a country will still have a massive amount to work on and who's to say that what is coming will be any better then what we already have.

Change seems to be the big statement of this presidential race.  Everyone is offering us change.  How can we be guaranteed change when we don't even know what majority will exist in the senate and house?  For everything we get promised I would venture to say that one perhaps two percent of those grandiose fluffy suggestions will be carried out while we as a nation sit back with the eternal shoulder shrug looking toward our leaders to let us know what the heck is going to change.

I guess only time and voter ballot casting will tell.

Until tomorrow.

Basket Trick's

Halloween has been attached to many stigma's throughout the century's.  Back in Celtic times what we celebrate now was a form of literally exorcising the demons.  They would used carved turnips instead of carved pumpkins-and the conventional idea of trick or treating was a long way coming.

Ah, how times have changed.  Now we equate Halloween to a night of up and downs-with the looming concern of "will these spoiled, snotty, video game age children appreciate the candy I'm offering them?  Or will they scoff at my milk duds?"  What a difference from the time when in the thirties and forties kids went around begging for food on Thanksgiving.  

In recent years I have begun rocking the basket out-side the front door maneuver during the work day to let those cute little pumpkin babies have something to trick or treat for.  As the day progressed the basket remained out-straight into the time when the tricks begin.  

What do you think happened?  The basket got stolen.  So-what can we say about this?  Don't leave a basket out-side, don't ask nere do well teenagers to stop spray painting your front sidewalk.  How have we let the new generation feel so entitled to whatever they please?  

I sound like I'm eighty spouting this rhetoric.  Maybe I am.  That would account for the leg cramps and the fact I always want people to finish their vegetables.

Fake Blogging

I have been fake blogging for a long hot second now.

By fake blogging I mean blogging on blog's that are not mine.  I would like to equate it to a form of couch surfing web-wide.  I've reached the level of "but why?" Why waste my words on a territory that I cannot claim.  After viewing yet another in a long line of friends blogs I have made the leap out into the blog universe.  

Here I am.