I have been having some lower intestinal issues now for a few weeks. Several tests looking for the problem. I am beginning to feel like a car going to a mechanic for diagnosis. You go in and the doc plugs into your circuitry and runs a machine to diagnose the problem. Only problem is, it doesn’t show up on the computer, so the doc shakes his head and sends you to another doc who repeats the process with a different apparatus only to have the same “can’t find anything” answer
So today it is off for another “procedure” for a closer look into my lower GI system. I can’t help but always be reminded of Billy Crystal in City Slickers delivering his monologue to a class of elementary age kids about how as we get older we have a lot procedures.
Anyhow, I have also been “irregular” on posting and will probably continue with that trend until we get to the “bottom” of it all.
Peace out & monos en theos ††† jas L
WHAT TO SAY WHEN YOUR TEAM’S LOSING…
‘It ain’t over till it’s over.’ Thanks, Yogi Berra. Yesterday, the legendary baseball player died at age 90. He was known for his catchphrases and his catcher skills – he won 10 championships with the Yankees, and appeared in more World Series games than any other player. He was also a Hall of Famer, named MVP three times, and inspired a cartoon character. And he knew that ‘when you come to a fork in the road, take it’ (yes, that was another ‘Yogi-ism ‘ attributed to him) — Berra became a MLB manager and coach after he retired from the field.
I was always a Yogi fan even before his great “Yogi-isms” began. I loved him because he always reminded me of the last guy to be picked to play. But after the game started you quickly realized he should of be picked first!
“You should always go to other people’s funerals, otherwise, they won’t come to yours.” Yogi of course
Unlike most butterflies, gray hairstreaks do not prefer one specific habitat. They are widespread in tropical forests and open, temperate woodland areas. They can also be found in meadows, crop fields, neglected roadsides, and residential parks and yards are often homes of this fascinating butterfly.
Gray hairstreaks can be found in Southern Canada to Central America and Northwestern South America. They occur from coast to coast and in a variety of altitudes ranging from sea level to nine thousand feet
Not to mention they are skittery and fast. Glad to find a butterfly to match my persona. Well not that I am ever any longer thought of as fast, skittery, yes. A wild hair for sure. monos en theos †† jas L
My wife, Susan, and I often fall into opposite sites of corners when it comes to our favor of seasons. I fall ( no pun) into a general dislike of things falling and fading. She is quick to remind me of my like of fall colors and of change in general, the flavor of turkey and pumpkin. The damp smells and subtle earthy color. She makes me see how it is is not so much dying and dormancy. Rather a time of rest and hibernation. A time of rest and rebirth. Fading turns to endless warm tones of gold, brown and red.
Much like fall, change slowly overtakes me and peace filters up through the soles of my shoes and into my heart.
And so I pause. Move slowly. Take time to see, smell and feel the change. The rust tones fill me and i long for a slice of warm pumpkin pie with a dollop of whipped cream. I also receive the addied bonus of finding that hearts that have grown close to us come to understand the inside of us better than we see. monos en theos……jas L
So part two of the Metamorphosis thing. The whole process just takes my mind to places I cannot quite put into place. I am sure the caterpillar has less of a thought process than me. But I got to figure when he goes into the cocoon thing, he has to figure this it it, I’m one dead bug. And then after a few days, weeks months whatever it takes, he awakes and emerges a whole new and different creature.
“When one door of happiness closes, another opens; but often we look so long at the closed door that we do not see the one which has been opened for us.”
― Helen Keller
Enjoy both the closed and newly opened doors! monos en theos †††† jas L
Okay, I admit this guy is a little scarey now but little does he know what he will become. Oh that we could experience such a metamorphosis.
Yeah I know we can all make major changes but to curl into a cocoon and a few months later come out a whole different creature just rocks my imagination. Stay tuned for the morphed version……..monos en theos jas L †††
What lifts the heron leaning on the air
I praise without a name. A crouch, a flare,
a long stroke through the cumulus of trees,
a shaped thought at the sky – then gone. O rare!
Saint Francis, being happiest on his knees,
would have cried Father! Cry anything you please
But praise. By any name or none. But praise
the white original burst that lights
the heron on his two soft kissing kites.
When saints praise heaven lit by doves and rays,
I sit by pond scums till the air recites
It’s heron back. And doubt all else. But praise.
Find your praise for the day! …† jas L
“MY PASSION has never been for photography ‘ in itself ‘ but for the possibility –through forgetting yourself– of recording in a fraction of a second the emotion of the subject, and the beauty of the form; that is, a geometry awakened by what’s offered.
The photographic shot is one of my sketchpads.” HENRI CARTIER – BRESSON 8/2/1994
I have been reading Henri Cartier – Bresson’s book about photography: The Mind’s Eye. It should be required reading for anyone who attempts to see and record images! monos en theos †† jas L
We have been waiting (somewhat patiently) for Hagerman Wildlife Refuge to reopen. They were hit pretty hard with the Lake Texoma flooding from a couple of months back. The amount of damage was still evident and the folks have been working hard to get things back to normal, but it is a long haul.
We spent the afternoon there, whiling away the day with the company of many butterflies, waterfowl and other flying and crawling creatures. The butterfly garden was a real treat and we basked in the beauty that only He can put together, What fun.
These two dragonflies were part of a gaggle of twenty or so all hanging on to the barest of little stalks. These two were taken from the same angle as I was on the ground and it was impossible to hold focus on the both of them. They were about a foot or so apart. So I made two separate photos with both in focus and then stacked them together in photoshop. What fun !
monos en theos…….jas L
A garden of marigolds….orange, yellow and rust,
Bright, soft and rich, touched with golden dust.
Quiet and regal, sun kissed and fair,
Basil -citrus fragrance that mellows the moist air.
A thousand smiling marigolds, a thousand smiling suns,
Sweet nectar, ambrosia, for natures gentle ones.
Woven into garlands, yellow with tips of red,
Woven into memories with many a words unsaid.
Love’s hopes of an Indian bride, clad with marigold,
With dreams wrought ‘n promises, her heart dearly holds.
Tearful farewells to soldiers, who traverse through destiny’s doors.
A garland weaved with love for those, from across the seven shores.
And when the body is but a thought, as life grays and olds
Wrapped in a hearse of love, their love, with weeping marigolds.
An offering so humble, yet flowers a Goddess wears,
Auguring celebrations, with a soul’s heartfelt prayers.
Orange, yellow, rust..to love, to pray, to mourn,
Golden, sun kissed, blessed.. marigolds that life adorns.
Nishu Mathur, India