Hillbilly Zen – Blessings, Blogs, Blitzes and Battle Lines

I’ve known for quite some time that there are incredibly talented folks blogging on WordPress, and having to restrict my access to their work has brought that point home in a big way.  The writing, the photography and the art are just outstanding, and I want to thank each and every one of you for sharing your gifts with the world.  You truly make this planet a better place, each in your own unique way.

Ok, I’m done being all mushy.  For now, anyway.

Being unemployed blows, and having to spend limited internet time doing what I don’t like (filling out job applications) vs. what I like a lot (reading great blogs) blows big wind.  My account has finally reset, though, so y’all get ready to see gobs of Likes and comments on your blogs.  It’s going to take awhile to catch up, but as long as the coffee holds out, I’m good.

In between searching for a decent job and enjoying awesome blogs, I’ll be going into battle with a local tourist spot.  Their animals are being poorly cared for, some to the point of death, and it cannot be allowed to continue.  The administration of the facility has been notified and done nothing to correct the situation, so I’m currently in communication with the Board of Trustees and local officials.  If that doesn’t produce action, it’ll be time to take it up a notch and go to the media.  I’m really hoping that won’t be necessary, because other than the problem with the animals it’s a wonderful place.  I’ll keep you posted.

In the meantime, thank you again for sharing your wonderful work; getting up to date on what I’ve missed is such a pleasure.  Any prayers, good vibes and encouragement will be greatly appreciated!

Hillbilly Zen – Happy (Belated) 420!

I Got Stoned and I Missed It

Oh yes boys play it sweet for me
I was sittin’ in my basement I’d just rolled myself a taste of
Somethin’ green and gold and glorious to get me through the day
When my friend yells through my transom grab your coat an’ get your hat son
There’s a nut down on the corner a givin’ dollar bills away
But I sat around a bit and then I had another hit
And then I rolled myself a bomber thought about my momma
Looked around fooled around played around while and then
I got stoned and I missed it I got stoned and I missed it
I got stoned and it rolled right by
I got stoned and I missed it I got stoned and I missed it I got stoned oh me oh my

It took seven months of urgin’ just to get that local virgin
With the sweet face up to my place to fool around a bit
And next day she woke up rosy and she snuggled up so cosy
But when she asked me how I liked it Lord it hurt me to admit
I got stoned and I missed it…
[ fiddle ]
I ain’t makin’ no excuses for so many things I uses
Just to brighten my relationships and sweeten up my day
But when my earthly race is over and I’m ready for the clover
And they ask me how my life has been I guess I have to say
I was stoned and I missed it…

by Shel Silverstein

(Author’s note:  In the interest of full disclosure, I didn’t really get stoned and miss 420.  I was aware of yesterday’s significance, but due to budget constraints, herbal enhancement is at the bottom of my priority list right now and likely to remain there for quite some time.  But there are days, my friends, that I really, really miss “missing” things.)

marijuana-poster

Hie Nonny Nonny and a Hot Cha-Cha!

 

Just a little Saturday silliness…

Hillbilly Zen – An Old Man’s Dream

She waits for him in a copse of trees just beyond the creek, amid shadows of cedars that rise from the decaying tangle of their fallen kin.  Sleek and petite, she moves with a lithe certainty that scarcely disturbs the fragile tendrils of new growth struggling from the forest floor.  She is built for speed but has reached the limit of her endurance, and seeks cover in the dusky coolness of the woods.  She is vulnerable here, but the miles she has covered today have taken their toll; she sinks to the loam with a soft exhale of relief and is still.  A tiny pulse beats a frantic rhythm in the white curve of her throat, belying the ease of her repose.  The tender pink shell of her ear catches a sound in the distance and she stiffens, instantly alert.  An eternity of heartbeats passes as she waits; is he here?  She raises her head to the wind but it carries no scent of him.  Tension drains from her stance and she moves toward the enticing whisper of the creek.  As she drops her head to drink, her own reflection gives her pause.  In the bottomless caramel depths of her eyes swirls the instinctive wisdom of her lineage, flickering with the deep sadness and unremitting terror of the hunted.  Even if she manages to elude him this time, he will never abandon his desire to possess her. He sees subtle movement at the tree line, and it takes every ounce of willpower he possesses not to bolt from concealment.  To reveal himself now would be foolhardy.  She is fast and can easily outrun him, but he has been tracking her for hours and she is tired.  Tall grass and a favorable wind direction should get him close enough to take her.   His lips curl back over gleaming teeth into a ferocious smile, and a soft, satisfied growl escapes.  This time he will have her.  Adrenaline floods his veins like molten madness, consigning domesticated niceties into fiery oblivion.  The primal drumming of his heart pounds in his ears, but he imagines he hears her muted footfalls through the undergrowth.  He watches her through slitted, cunning eyes as she slips from the shelter of the trees.  He readies himself, muscles contracting, forged by bloodlust into rigid bands beneath his skin.  He snarls, leaps and begins to run.  As he closes in, the tantalizing scent of her panic urges him to greater speed.  She is almost his….

I look up from my laptop and watch the old man twitch in his sleep, smiling at the staccato chuffs, rumbles and snores as he dreams.  We’ve been together almost fourteen years now, and even fourteen more still wouldn’t be long enough.  I’ve seen him go from vibrant youth to frail geriatric.  He’s lost most of his teeth, his fur is patchy, his skin is fragile and he’s gotten more than a little cranky, but I love him with all my heart.  The phone rings twice before I can grab it, and he raises his head from his pillow in obvious annoyance.  Grumbling under his breath, he heaves a sigh and sinks back into his bed.  I finish the call, then reach down and gently skritch his chin.  He opens one eye in tacit acknowledgement of my affection, then drifts off to sleep again.

Don't worry, old man.  You'll get her next time.

Don’t worry, old man. You’ll get her next time.
(Google Image Photo)

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