from the legal pad

hope lives on the otherside of mountains, timeszones, and the pillow. many believe getting there takes longer than return. i believe thanks rises when we allow ourselves  to be surprised to not know all things to sleep- on the floor. turns out getting there doesn't matter. but the leftovers are plenty right here. give thanks. today. try.

my hands hurt  and shape  and free and nothing. several  professionals have quoted the job. never solicited but always recommended, by those who really know- farm it out. now vested in the land, i relish their price.  two are mine for that. do it alone with neighbors, learning and slow. each blade of grass unique. time eternal and given. efficiency always wasted. work. on occasion, duty and chore delight. the tortoise always wins. read the story of old. i am neither sloth, nor hare. in a city of mice and men, we are the cheese. 

financial reports indicate the comanche, texas newspaper is projecting bankruptcy next year after the loss of their one and only customer.  i suspect a drop in ear plug sales across the metroplex. i am also told that parked cars, street signs, and garage doors everywhere sighed with relief when "granny" died.  i will forever wish that i had a picture of the rear end of her car that "she never hit anyone with." "when you  remember  me,  it  means  that  you  have  carried  something  of  who  i  am  with  you,  that  i  have  left  some  mark  of  who  i  am  on  who  you  are.  it  means  that  you  can  summon  me  back  to  your  mind  even  though  countless  years  and  miles  may  stand  between  us.  it  means  that  if  we  meet  again,  you  will  know  me.  it  means  that  even  after  i  die,  you  can  still  see  my  face  and  hear  my  voice  and  speak  to  me  in  your  heart.  for  as  long  as  you  remember  me,  i  am  never  en