Fine Tuning The Art of Melding RV Dreams with a Victorian Village Lifestyle

Awaiting May in Lovely Ouray...getting Lovelier every day. Still, not a month "Home" from a winter's worth of road-tripping, Colorado to Utah to Arizona and back, mental dialog over my two, make that all three "mistresses," comes to a boil. "Where, when, how long." If you will pardon the pun, being a wandering "polygamist" isn't as easy as it's cracked up to be.

Botanical Gardens: Alcohol Free Mental Health Aids For Prisoners of War In Siberia

Sitting by the fire, gazing out the Imax Windows...watching it snow. My second cup of coffee is down to its last swallow and the Idea Fairy plays hooky from the right segments of my brain...which leaves me half-witted when it comes to penning philosophically rich prose and poetry that might help tread-millers make it to Hump-Day. Perhaps now would be a good time to jot down a few notes on how to record TV shows on the DVR, so we can skip through the vast wasteland of mind-numbing banality that occupies an ever-increasing portion of said shows...of which there are only about three that remain worth watching. Please pardon me while I go look for a Kindergartener who can assist me with the absolute befuddlement of programming instructions.

Utah on my mind: car, windows and other places the sun doesn’t shine: Confessions of a spoiled Snowbird

My April Column for the Ouray County Plaindealer. Have a great weekend!

When Chaos Supplants Natural Order...The Fragility Of Dreams

Here is an analogy with multifarious applications. Today, I apply it to my aversion to substandard weather: Life is a lot like baking a cake. Always indulge the batter...just in case you end up burning the cake. Of course one runs the risk of ending up with a tummy ache and a smaller cake (or, in my case, a cupcake (burp)), but they own the great satisfaction of having stayed on the offensive and lived in the moment...that you not only stopped to "smell roses," you gobbled them down while you could!

The Rites and Wrongs of Spring

All was well in the land of Ray; this is what we came home to. Snow, yes, but retreating up the mountainsides right on schedule. Lower perimeter trails were muddy in places but at least open. The ballpark's outfield grass was spring green; kids in shorts nursed iced drinks, swung bats, and flung frisbees. Fido's, in a fit of surging hormones and spring fever, nosed the turf for lush bouquets of previous Fidettes, and the most romantic spot to leave a "Love Note." Apparently dogs can tell a lot about each other with such acute senses of smell. (Wow, I like to meet her at third base!)

Flashback To Saguaro National Park...Desert Blooms and DiamondBacks

Mariah paid a visit to Lovely Ouray yesterday...as in wind, not Carey. Just as well since I couldn't go out and play due to a 24 hour extended grace period about to expire. I needed to focus...finish my column for the Ouray County Plaindealer. Someday putting things off till the last second is going to bite me in the behind. But I like living on the adrenalized edge...that razor sharp line between panic and production. The issue with my column comes out on thursday, I'll try to remember to throw up a link...in case the BCB Journal isn't malaise enough for you. It's about coming off the road to our "sticks and bricks" in Lovely Ouray, which wasn't so "lovely" the day I was trying to write. At least the snow that falls this morning is vertical instead of horizontal. It's little spring straws like that that one must cling to while waiting on summer (sigh). 

Indecent Exposures...Fukengruven In Jerome

Jerome Arizona is Sausalito without the Bay, Santorini without the money, Bisbee without the pit...only a bit more falling down and architecturally poorer. Like Bisbee, Jerome has a birthright of shiny Copper, and a epitaph of rusted Volkswagens. But there is no funeral to weep over, for in the end, rust is the new gold...a magnet for money.