Simple Abundance

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I've been futzing about this blog and it's "Not Rick" look and feel.  The Skins available are cool, but not me.  So I'm diving in kids, its site design time!  The gloves are coming off!!!

The theme will be simplicity, start simple and add as I can and are wont to do so.  I think I've been paralyzed by the delusions of grandeur I have for this space. 

The illusions are shattered and the fear is shuttered behind a flurry of creativity.

I may revert to old skins but it is onward into the breech.

First up, simple table with header, footer, right column.  Where's my brush?

I Heard The News Today

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A friend of mine took his life and went away.
He was tired, said he couldn't stay.

MORA, John A. 41, of Brookline, MA died unexpectedly on November 19.
He was the son of Dr. George Mora of Shellpoint Retirement Community,
Fort Myers, FL & Marilyn Mora of Wakefield, RI.
Besides his parents, John leaves two sisters, Catherine (Mora) Roberts of Beverly, MA,
Elizabeth Mora of Brookline, MA and a nephew, Jack Roberts, of Beverly, MA.
He was born in Poughkeepsie, NY. John was a graduate of the Portsmouth Abby School,
Wesleyan University, and the Tuck School of Business at Dartmouth College in
Hanover, NH.  John had been a successful businessman for 20 years working at Hewitt
Associates, at McKinsey and Company, at the Pharmacia Corporation and at Liberty
Mutual Insurance Company in Boston.
John was a a member of the First Unitarian Society in West Newton, MA
where he served as the clerk on the Board of Trustees.
A memorial service will be held at the First Unitarian Society of Newton at 1326
Washington St. in West Newton, MA on Sat., Dec. 13 at 4:00 PM.
It is requested that in lieu of flowers contributions in John's memory be sent to the Manic
Depression and Depressive Association at MDDA-Boston, P.O. Box 102,
Belmont, MA 02478

When you first get the news the numbness starts in your brain and moves steadily outward.
The reality you are experiencing doesn't match the one you knew just moments before.
The man you saw just recently cooking for us at his new condo just days before is no longer; this is not real, It can't be, but it is.

If there is any universal measure of a person that can be applied it is this;
what passion and compassion, what sadness and emptiness, what expression of loss
is brought by your friends to the memorial service.  Judging by the outpouring of wit,
humor, sadness, grief, loss, love and respect John measured up with the best of them.

It is at these times the "I should have" start pouring from our mouths, the "If I only"
weedles at our senses and invades our sleep.  You can't go here, you must not.  No one
can tell what a word would do in the unforseen future.  You just have to let it go.

And the service was a great learning experience; learning how terribly long John suffered
from his illness, how terribly his family did not come to grips with it until the end.
John worked hard at everything he did and maybe he just got tired, thought the game was
not worth the cost of playing, that a rest would bring peace and joy.

I do know John is peaceful and happy now.  John is in a better place happy and content,
another joyus soul one with God.

Good Bye John

I read the news today oh boy

about a lucky man who made the grade

and though the news was rather sad

well i just had to laugh

i saw the photograph

he blew his mind out in a car

he didn't notice that the lights had changed

a crowd of people stood and stared

thev'd seen his face before

nobody was really sure

if he was from the house of lords

I saw a film today oh boy

the english Army had just won the war

a crowd of people turned away

but i just had to look

having read the book

i'd love to turn you on woke up got out of bed

dragged a comb across my head

found my way downstairs and drank a cup

and looking up i noticed i was late

found my coat and grabbed my hat

made the bus in secounds flat

found my way upstairs and had a smoke

and somebody spoke and i went into a dream

I heard the news today oh boy

four thousand holes in blackburn Lancashire

and though the holes were rather small

they had to count them all

now they know how many holes it takes

to fill the Albert Hall

i'd love to turn you onn.

I'm thinking of this as my new background.  Ah, site design, what fun!!!

Old Hair

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This "wizzled" old stump reminded me of having a bad hair day.
I'm still trying to figure out where I got the term "wizzled" from. 
Perhaps it is the process of becomming wize and aged.

My town had a tree lighting ceremony, welcomed Santa and his Reindeer
and generally cavorted about under the Christmass light's in the cold.

This clump of balloons is waiting for the Belmont, outbound, express
the morning after.

The Difference In Days

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December 7 and the first light sprinkling of snow.  The platform sign, Belmont - outbound,
stands as sentry over white cotton covered tracks.  The early morning light
sheepishly peers out from the covers of the world; it is too cold to get up
and brighten the day just yet.

... the world turns and

a weekend of white wind and wuthering leaves Belmont, outbound,
standing on the shore of rolling crashing foam.  Waves of frozen water
held stif in our gaze.  And the sun has turned her back, looking away
from the sleeply day; twenty six inches of snow.

The only thing left to do

Great the morning with a smile as all Snowmen do!

Light of first tacks, morning pale
the daylight slows in cold frequency
and dims the time spent here.

Dig, Dag, Dug

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The conjugation of the verb whose meaning is to extricate oneself from 26"± inches of snow that fell in my driveway and yard.

Here's the simple truth, people, listen up.  When you have two plus feet of snow drifting up your driveway like ocean breakers about to slam in to your house you need power equipment.  I am completely convinced that the heart attack rate would plummet, I mean just dive to near zero, if everyone went out and got themselves a snow blower.  Don't scrimp either. 

A Yard Machine® with a 26" auger and an 8HP motor dug my

75' driveway, including the garbage at the end, out in about two hours.  This includes the big section in front of my place.  To do this with a shovel would take days!

Now I'm not trying to make fun of the little guy with his shovel verily tearing at it making six foot piles, fine, have a great day and enjoy the chiropractor and hot pads, on me!

It just seems silly to go about the daily business of life in this way.  If you want to run and get fit do you start with a marathon?  No sir!  If you live in Miami do you have an air conditioner?  Absolutely!  If you live in New England do you have a snow blower?  Any answer other than yes is insane.  Listen, drop the Lattes as Starbucks and buy a 'blower with the cash you save.  And if you can't afford the power equipment (or the Lattes) then there's always a cheap willing labor force ... College Students

If you can just get them off the roof!  God, what was in that Tabernacle?  My guess is an open bar.

The moral of the story is don't try to undo in an hour what it took Mother Nature 48 hours of extreme barometric pressure gradients and temperature differentials to produce.

And finally, if you do have the power equipment, Help your neighbor out!  It will reduce the heart attack rate, maybe make yourself feel good and justify the cha-ching you dropped down on that thing in the first place.

Pictures from this weekends Nor Easter to be on here soon.

The Shovel Stands Ready

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I came home today and saw the winter sentinel standing by the door.  Tall straight and proud he stoically stands waiting. 

The curve of his blade will slice through the fiercest drifts, chop mercilessly at offending ice, make right the blacktop and stoop.

I came home and saw the shovel next to the door and wondered will the bearer of such arms have the back to do this ... again.

Into the breach we go!

Christmas Lights

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The lights are up and glowing brightly.  We choose mostly white with a splash of color on a bush in front of the place.  The doors and windows are outlined in white.  The long stockade fence running the long length of my driveway is covered in "icicle" lights giving the impression of the not soon enough snow that will be blanketing my world.

My dwelling is behind two other houses, not an uncommon arrangement in the crowded Boston near suburbs.  It originally was a barn in 1901, blacksmith's shop after that and a number of small businesses including a used car lot in the '40's.  The building is not huge and sits in its own little lot of large maples, a small island of calm and comfort in the busy world.

My place is usually hidden and obfuscated by the trees and growth which in full bloom make the house nearly invisible to those who do not know it is there.  But after the fall and the raking of some 30 to 40 bags of leaves leaves our little oasis exposed to the world.  A blue gray rectangle stoically sitting behind the trees.

The lights went up Sunday and by Monday I knew there was a flaw in my design.  First I must say I am immensely proud I could wire in 547 different light strings into a single outlet.  Hell, I've watched National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation! about a thousand times.  But my fatal flaw was this, no indoor switch for turning them on or off.  If you wake up from watching Monday Night Football at about 1AM and have to go outside in the 17° F weather to pull a plug you know something needs improving.  Solution, timers on the outlet plugs.  Viola!

My first glimpse of the house post timer install was on Tuesday night.  I was returning from work, a steady trudge in the too early darkness and the too early cold, when I turned the corner on to my street.  I almost came up short.  The small little building only I would know was there crouching behind my neighbors stood up tall and bright!  The icicle lights inviting me down the driveway where the twinkling windows smiled and the doorway beckoned.  I picked up the pace and crossing the street realized I was walking ... hastening, with a spring in my step, I was going to my festively lit welcoming home.

Yes it is corny, walking up to the place I was smiling and thinking I'm glad to be here. 

What does these small bulbs do to us?  Why a sudden shift in demeanor because of some silly lights?  Hmm.  Maybe Christmas, maybe not.  But it is sure good to be here.

Life is good!  Remember wherever you go, there you are!!!

Baby It's Cold Outside

Well it's finially got here; the cold. I'm not talking about the friendly little nip in the air, the one that makes your nose run and maybe you need a hat and scarf.

This is the cold that makes my windows, manufactured circa early 70's single paned and drafty, sheet over with ice.  The moisture from my house, driven out by the heat and lingering on the window pane, is wind frozen into a crystaline white sheet.  The light from the white Christmas decoration bulbs are glowing with diffuse promise of joy. But this is not joyful to experience in the least.

Yes, we love the early winter; all new pristine snow and the Holidays warm fires.

The New Year carries the feeling over like some slow lingering hang over; we still love Ye old man winter.  The late January thaw makes outdoors seem more promising and wonderful than it was.  The wind doesn't bite so much, the air smells sweeter, the clamboring in and out of the house a little less hard and somehow we know this season can't go on forever.

Then Feburary arrives and winter turns his back and gives us the cold side.  Being outdoors - an event I require daily to maintain my sanity - is now a battle, the pnultimate struggle to manuver boots, coats and warm clothes through the day to day without feeling like you are entirely overwhelmed and completely oppressed.

This is why, I think, March is the cruelest month.  It is nothing if not exaspirating.  It can show us everything the changing force of nature can muster and show us that nothing may change at all.  We'll never know if winter will ever end; the Ide's of March will not tell.

So I end this missive with this: love where you are when you are and what it is inside and out.  The cold is beautiful, the sky delivers the stars to us in such clarity on a winter's night you can touch them you just know you can.  Everything is cool, everything is just as it is meant to be.

Now to pull up my scarf over my nose and try to remember where I put the plastic for my windows.  Off I go into the day ...

Baby it's cold outside!

My Thanksgiving Is You

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This Thanksgiving is giving thanks for you.  Thank you all for everything.