go site synthesis essay community service write on a paper examples of qualifications on resume examples of math problems word to use in a essay viagra in china leadership style essay essay clip viagra directly from pfizer https://eagfwc.org/men/obesity-and-clomid/100/ https://creativephl.org/pills/usa-pharmacy-lasix/33/ topics for an academic research paper https://ramapoforchildren.org/youth/quality-engineer-trainee-resume/47/ viagra fern acres professional academic writing services go to site essay be yourself viagra in mexico over the counter help with english coursework a level https://harvestinghappiness.com/drug/clindamycin-with-flagyl/66/ assign a static ip https://pittsburghgreenstory.com/newyork/harvard-thesis-on-marketing/15/ see essay on fear https://climbingguidesinstitute.org/210-newspaper-researcher-jobs/ financial homework services go here click here how to write a reference paper the effects of divorce on children essay https://bigsurlandtrust.org/care/levitra-on-line/20/
If you are not picking up great excitement from me as you join me in my morning meanderings, there is something seriously wrong. Either there is something wrong with your sensors, or with my transmitter. Either you’re not picking up what I am laying down, or I ain’t layin’ nothin’ down for you to pick up.
I have had the privilege of living in a pretty spectacularly special place and doing some pretty exciting things in my life. I have always found a way to express myself creatively and artistically. I have been involved in professions I loved, social work and then later teaching elementary music, and now of course doing the many things I love and was raised doing, and sharing it with you folks via reality television. I am in the process of editing my soon to be released first book! But I gotta say, to you many members of my morning meandering club, these here blogs that just come a driftin’ into this old range riders foggy mornin’ brain, has got me plum tickled, in a whole new way.
Think about it. Think about anything you love doing and are really excited about. Don’t even try to tell me and that sharing that with someone special makes it even more exciting. Being able to share it right away, as soon as that cake comes out of the oven, as soon as that new bowl comes off the potters wheel, as soon as that old restored car gets a new paint job. When it’s hot off the press. A piece of homemade bread is good anytime, but never as good as when it first comes out of the oven!
In a nutshell, that’s pretty much how I feel about blogging. It’s something I’m excited about doing. Corralling my random thoughts and sharing them with someone right away. No long book deal process. No long editing process. Just poof! Voila! It’s done.
It’s a fairly similar to making a basket. First I am out there gathering a whole bunch of random material, anything from tree roots to grass-roots to beaver chewed twigs, or bark, bringing it all home, Looking at it all and then making something beautiful out of it.
I’ll tell you exactly what it really feels like, even more then the above basket analogy. The single most thing I have always loved about camping with friends is the early morning waking up talking and drinking coffee and sharing stories around the morning campfire. Of course if you’re camping with me it will also involve listening to some of my songs, or sharing your own.
I promise you I will get back to the campfire in just a minute, but first we need to hippity hop down one of those rabbit trails you have come to expect and love. It has to do with sharing around the campfire. So this is a fairly related rabbit trail, of course aren’t they all.
I have a dear friend named Craig. He loves poetry. He even took a poetry class. He is a great outdoor enthusiast, he swims, he bikes, he skis, he fishes, and he is a highly acclaimed and published marine biologist. A manly man. An educated well rounded multi talented manly man. And he loved poetry. So what!
Craig and I used to go up to the head of the bay a lot, and hang out at the Willard cabin. Sharing songs and poetry around our early-morning campfire, was one of our favorite things to do. We also did some wilderness yoga by the bank of the river on the soft grass which had been grazed down to lawn perfection by the horses and cattle. Since Bruce Willard let us stay in his cattlemen’s line shack, we helped him work his cattle in any way whenever he asked us.
Craig called me one evening in a dilemma. Bruce had asked him if he and I could help him the next day driving some cattle to the head of the bay. It would require us staying the night. What an opportunity, what a dream! What was the dilemma? He would miss his weekly poetry class. And here is the real kicker. Craig did not want Bruce to know that he was taking a poetry class. Bruce might think less of him. He might tease and razz him as only a manly cowboy man could tease and belittle and mercilessly give shit to a fellow manly man who might be showing signs for being wimpy, or poetic. Now that was a rabbit trail. A real manly man, rabbity rabbit , rabbit trail by golly!
So back to the campfire we go. What goes on around a morning campfire just happens very naturally. Everyone is at their own pace and in their own space. Of course the fact that you’re camping with friends means you are all somewhat on a similar wave length. There is no plan, no organization no pressure. There are no expectations. No performance to prepare for. Everybody just shares what they feel like sharing. There is an appreciative captive audience. I may sing only one or possibly three or four songs, and feel totally satisfied. I feel as fulfilled sharing my creative passion, as I do at a full-length concert for a large audience.
But I get something from that campfire performance that I cannot get anywhere else. It is that feeling of spontaneity sharing the moment and whatever happens to hippity hop into my mind. It is sharing that hot slice of fresh bread with your special friends. It is writing and posting that fresh, brand-new, hot off the press blog with you. There just ain’t nothin’ like a slice of fresh hot bread drippin’ butter, unless it’s a fresh sliced of homemade bread toasted over a campfire.