“Then the crowds who went ahead of him and those who followed shouted: Hosanna to the Son of David! Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord! Hosanna in the highest heaven!” - Matthew 21:9

Good morning and welcome. It's Wednesday, March 28, 2018, and I know that most everyone is aware of the importance of this week as it relates to the truths we proclaim as Christians. It's called passion week because at this time of year we pause to celebrate the death, the burial, and the resurrection of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. We believe this is not only a faith-based belief because it actually happened in history. He came. He lived a perfect life. He went about doing good. He came to give Himself up on behalf of the sins of all people so they can be made right with God. He accomplished this through His death on The Cross, His burial in a borrowed tomb, and His glorious resurrection which we will celebrate on this upcoming Sunday. I'll give you the cliff notes summary from the Apostle Paul's inspired text as found in the 15th Chapter of his first letter to the Corinthians. This was written to address those who were saying there was no resurrection of Jesus and there will be no resurrection of believers. Paul made it clear that if the Resurrection is not true, then those of us who have responded to the Gospel and in faith we have accepted God's offer of salvation, well, if it's not true, then we are to be pitied for we are without hope in this life and in the life to come. BUT, he goes on to affirm what we know to be the truth, CHRIST IS RISEN FROM THE DEAD! Now that, my friend, is our glorious hope that causes us to rejoice. Amen and Amen.

I am looking forward to being off on Friday. It's a company holiday in celebration of Good Friday. That has been the practice of our owner since I've been here. People honoring this day has been around a very long time. Since around AD 100. Here are some thoughts from a variety of individuals. ~ "Exalt the Cross! God has hung the destiny of the race upon it. Other things we may do in the realm of ethics, and on the lines of philanthropic reforms; but our main duty converges into setting that one glorious beacon of salvation, Calvary’s Cross, before the gaze of every immortal soul." Theodore Ledyard Cuyler ~ "It is the resurrection that makes Good Friday good." Ravi Zacharias ~ "He drained the cup of God's wrath bone dry, leaving not a drop for us to drink." Richard Allen Bodey ~ "What is good about Good Friday? Why isn't it called Bad Friday? Because out of the appallingly bad came what was inexpressibly good. And the good trumps the bad, because though the bad was temporary, the good is eternal." Randy Alcorn ~ "Practice mercy and forgiveness throughout as a lesson that symbolizes the love shown through his crucifixion." Unarine Ramaru ~ "The Cross! There, and there only though the deist rave, and the atheist, if Earth bears so base a slave; There and there only, is the power to save." William Cowper ~ Amen.

I understand they are adding a question to the upcoming US Census that asks the individual if they are a citizen of the United States or not. That sounds pretty reasonable to me. It is, after all, a census of the United States. They do have a box to check if you are not. Therefore, each person can be accounted for. Hold on a second. California has already filed a lawsuit against the President asking that question to be removed. Have you ever felt like you went to sleep one night and woke up right in the middle of an episode of the Twilight Zone? One of the young men speaking against guns in the recent march on Washington DC said that making students use clear plastic backpacks was a violation of their constitutional rights. He's the same individual calling for laws to be passed in contravention of the 2nd Amendment which affords constitutional rights to gun owners. Try not to be confused. The liberal viewpoint is that violating some constitutional rights is okay while others should be off limits. Why? Because that's the way they feel. I'm not staking out hard and fast lines here for my own personal views. I'm only giving you my eyewitness and ear hearing of these strange times we are living in. Here is a quote from yesteryear that seems to apply. "Strange times are these, in which we live, forsooth; When young and old are taught in Falsehood's school: – And the man who dares to tell the truth, Is called at once a lunatic and fool." George Francis Train, (1829-1904). See you next time. Until then, may God bless us all. Amen. ....More later.

“Providence is wiser than you, and you may be confident it has suited all things better to your eternal good than you could do had you been left to your own option.” ― John Flavel, (1628-1691) The Mystery of Providence

I just checked the calendar and discovered that it's Tuesday, March 27, 2018. I typically have my act together a little better than I have of late. It's left me feeling like I'm mostly behind before I even get started each day. I think it most likely reflects the proverbial, too many irons in the fire at the same time. Or, as they used to say back home, more than one can say grace over. I know many of you can feel my pain. And, I can't really say I've reached the point of my grandfather's assessment when he was dragging. That being, "I feel like I've been pulled through a rat hole backwards." On my way in this morning I did, however, begin thinking of things that I am thankful for. You know. Like the old song, I began to name them one by one. That really does help to put life into a more positive perspective. That will do it nearly every time. I am blessed. Even when I am trying to take care of all kinds of things, including my job, I am blessed. Even when things don't always go like I want them to, I am blessed. Even when it does seem like I'm not getting anywhere fast, I am blessed. Jonah was dealing with some troubles as he was in the belly of that fish. Here's something he said that encouraged me today, "When my soul fainted within me, I remembered the Lord; And my prayer went up to You, Into Your holy temple." (Jonah Chapter 2, Verse 7) Amen.

I've never been one to hide my head in the sand when it comes to the world we live in each day. However, the ongoing, upside down, undergirded by the relentless craziness emanating from our seat of government on a 24x7 basis is enough to make me reconsider. These days, I get up and wonder 'what next' as the day unfolds. It's obvious that our President has not led a life characterized by moral purity. Most everyone knew that when we ended up with the alternatives that were placed before us. His backstory has become the basis for relentless attacks on any and all who are willing to admit they voted for him. In particular, Christians are being hounded as the secular media attempts to portray Bible believers as endorsing and approving of ungodly behavior. Some Christian organizations and ministries have been lulled into having this as their primary focus instead of presenting and spreading the Gospel of Jesus Christ. That's sad, folks, but true. And, it looks very much like the way in which our enemy does his work. We, who are believers, were faced with what was placed before us. We could abstain from voting. We could write in a candidate. Or, we could choose between the two set before us. Many of us chose to go with what we believed was the better of the two for the good of our nation. I was not for candidate Trump but I will never ever apologize for not voting for Hillary Clinton. That's my story and so far I'm sticking to it.

First time to ever see or meet my nephew, Alex. 

This past Sunday afternoon, the wife and I had lunch with a person connected to our family that we had never met. No family is typically what it seems. My dad had a wife and daughter before he and my mom met and married. No one knew. That daughter is my half-sister. I talked to her one time for about 30 minutes. That was several years ago. The photo is of her son, my nephew. He and his wife were passing through the Houston area and we were able to have lunch with them and spent some two hours talking about family. He carries our family name as his middle name. He is 54 years young. He has always wondered about his grandfather. That would be my dad who passed away in 1954. We had a wonderful time of fellowship with these folks. Many of you who do read my blogs recognize that some ten or more years ago, my son Rodney and I started attempting to fill in some blanks on our family tree. It led us into a tangled maze, but, this past Sunday, sitting at the Olive Garden Restuarant, it all seemed to have been worth it. It is certainly true that none of us, as embryos, get to choose the family that we become a part of. However, God knows. Period. Regardless of how things unfold, He knows, He cares, and He always is there for those who will hear and respond to His call. I'm so thankful that we do share that truth as a common bond with these, our long lost relatives. May God help you to have a great rest of today and we'll see what breaks out on the radar screen tomorrow. Take care. Amen. ....More later.

"My New Year's resolution was to enjoy more coffee. So far, so good." ~ copied

Good morning and welcome back. It's Monday, March 26, 2018, and I am back in the proverbial saddle again, so to speak, and this broadcast is emanating from 'Ye Ole Blogger Ranch'. Yogi Berra must have been a very funny guy to talk to. I watched a video of someone telling about Yogi telling him how they made those AFLAC commercials where Yogi shared the limelight with The Duck. Yogi told him some of the tricks they used to get the duck to do what they wanted him to do. Yogi then leaned over, and, in a very serious tone, he told him the voice was not really that of the duck talking. One thing for Yogi, he may be gone, but we're still talking about him. I sometimes leave my desk and when I return I notice my coffee has become ice cold. I do enjoy my coffee. Typically, I need it to be black, strong, and hot. I look at the cup. I have a choice to make. I can walk into the break room and heat it up in the microwave. That would require me to leave my desk. I hate to drink it cold, especially when it is beginning to thicken up, however, it is Community, therefore, it's a premium brew, so, I brace myself and drink it down. I like the fact that my hand down, very nice, Keurig, has some type of dementia because it thinks it is an Espresso Machine. Maybe that's what it always wanted to be. It spits out about 1/4 of a cup. Let that sit until it gets cold and believe me when you drink it, it will take the top of your head off. Oh well, I think my sinuses are better now.

I can't remember exactly when I started drinking coffee. I know my grandfather would make a coffee concoction for the great grandkids, called milk-coffee. It would be loaded up with sugar and milk. I don't think he ever provided that treat for us grandkids. He did mellow out when the great grands showed up. I may not have started my coffee consumption until after I married. As far back as I can remember I have always consumed it black, no sugar. I also drink unsweetened tea. I do know that kids parrot their parents. Some might remember that stop smoking TV ad where the dad lays down the cigarette and walks away. The little guy reaches down to pick it up. While my granddad didn't give me coffee, I no doubt was influenced by his way of making it and drinking it. I do remember him sitting at the table at dinner time. We ate a lot of homegrown vegetables. And, he loved his fresh green peppers. He would mix up his peas, fried okra, and cornbread and when he would take a bite he would also bite off a piece of the pepper. We would imitate him doing that same thing with a French fry. We would take in our fork of food and bite off that potato just like he did his peppers. Oh yeah, I do like some pepper sauce on my food and the occasional green pepper. I like the taste, just like my granddad did, however, they usually don't like me so much.

You have to wonder sometimes how our taste for certain items is developed. I like black licorice candy, hot cinnamon candy, and root beer barrel candy. I like the licorice in the hard candy, or jelly beans but never the rubbery stuff. I don't care for peanut butter and especially in cookies or candy. My wife loves peanut butter. She wouldn't even think of eating the black licorice, hot cinnamon, or root beer candies. I have thought that maybe I developed a taste for the black licorice as a kid because I knew the other kids wouldn't eat it. The wife loves chocolate. I like it okay, but, I'm not a chocoholic. I love butterscotch pudding. I like lime flavored almost anything. The wife doesn't like butterscotch or lime. She likes different things. The other day she had some wrapped chocolates in a bowl. I tried one of the popular peanut butter chocolate combos. She asked me about it. I told her I was just reaffirming my inclination not to care that much about it. I wonder how that works. The Popular Science website in an article entitled, 'BRUSSELS SPROUTS: DELICIOUS OR DISGUSTING?' gave this explanation: "People who have a lot of papillae—the bumps on our tongue, most of which house our taste buds—often find flavors overwhelming. They're "supertasters," and as such they add cream to their coffee and order food mild instead of spicy. Subtasters, on the other hand, have low papillae density and prefer their chicken wings "atomic." Individual taste, however, isn't simply about papillae; it also has to do with our buds' ability to detect different molecules. Although our brains can recognize the same five tastes—bitter, sweet, salty, sour and umami (savory)—the suite of chemicals that can trigger those signals varies from one person to the next. Alexander Bachmanov, a geneticist at Monell Chemical Senses Center in Philadelphia, says that humans carry a range of 20 to 40 genes dedicated to bitter taste receptors." It added some thoughts about the impact of the evolutionary process along with genetics and national origin. The good news? The wife and I do enjoy a lot of the same things and that usually makes for excellent meals. I've got the disappearing waistline to prove it. Full disclosure requires me to reveal that I wrote this last paragraph under the influence of HotTamales Fierce Cinnamon Flavored Chewy Candies. Just so you know. Take care and may God bless. Amen. .....More later.

“We live and die; Christ died and lived!” ~ John Stott, (1921-2011), Anglican Priest, Evangelical Author

Good Friday to each and every one. Not the GOOD Friday which is coming up next week, but, I do bid each one a hearty welcome on this March 23, 2018. And, just so you know, what took place on that upcoming GOOD Friday and all that happened as a result, well, that's what gives us hope on every Friday, and every other day as well. Now would be a good time for us all to sing together the great Gaither tune, ~ Because He lives, I can face tomorrow Because He lives, all fear is gone Because I know He holds the future And life is worth the living, just because He lives. ~ This song of hope and affirmation is the one requested for Billy Graham's memorial service. How fitting. That song encapsulates the truth that undergirds the living out of our lives, one day at a time, with all that happens, the good, the bad, and the hard to bear. Much has already been said about Resurrection Sunday showing up on April Fool's Day this year. I've already heard ministers making the point how it is appropriate to remind people what God has to say, "The fool has said in his heart, 'there is no God'." (Psalm 14:1) It landing on April 1st is somewhat of a rare occurrence. It is a quirk of attempting to match our Gregorian calendar to the way in which the Jewish calendar marks Passover and how Resurrection Day is determined. The last time it was celebrated on April 1st was in 1956. The next will be in 2029. Then, 2040. The good news is reflected in the truth of our Lord's resurrection, and that, my friend, is no joke at all, and especially, it's no April Fool's joke!

Next Monday we will pause to remember the birth date of my mother-in-law, Mom Rawles. She took her flight to her heavenly home back in 1998. On the anniversary of her birth date, ten years ago, I wrote a tribute in my blog dedicated to her memory. It's worth sharing again.

Today we celebrate the memory of my wife's mom because it is her birthday. She passed on to the other side a number of years ago. What a remarkable woman she was! She was what is called a stay at home mom, a pastor's wife, and a woman who wore her faith like it was her everyday clothing. She loved Gospel music, good preaching, and spending time with her family. She was also a one of a kind human sewing 'machine'. There's not much she couldn't figure out how to make. She was a hand quilter and during her lifetime she made literally hundreds of quilts. She was also a writer. She wrote poetry and we are blessed to have volumes of her work. She loved game shows and always wanted everyone to win something. She had problems sleeping at night so she would listen to cassette tapes of Gospel singing. Her favorites? The dozens of tapes she had of her own children and grandchildren singing songs that thrilled her night after night.

She was plain and mostly in the background most of the time. She was a very simple cook who loved variety in putting meals on the table. You never knew exactly what she might be serving but you always knew there would be lots of different dishes to choose from. She battled serious health issues from her teen years forward but she never complained and always kept on keeping on. God blessed her with 81 years and when she passed away the local newspaper said she had been a homemaker. Wow! That she had been and so much more.

God has been so good to me in giving me such wonderful women in my life. I was close to my father-in-law and my mother-in-law. I was saved under the ministry of my wife's dad. Of course, they raised up the woman I married and they stood by us through thick and thin. I can still vividly recall the very last conversation she and I shared just two days before she was called home. It was a happy time of banter and expression of caring and love. She had a quick wit about her and I pause today to thank God one more time for her many contributions to my life. The good news is that I will see her and all those in my family whose faith secured them a place in God's presence. I don't know if they use quilts in heaven, or do lots of needlework, but I can tell you this if they do she is up there running circles around everyone else.

Oh, how blessed we have been! Thanks be to God! Have a great Saturday and Lord's Day Sunday. Here's what I have in mind. I will do my best to show up, Lord willing, come next Monday, at our regular meeting time. Until then, may God bless us all. Amen. .....More later.

"In the spring, at the end of the day, you should smell like dirt." ~ Margaret Atwood

It's Thursday, March 22, 2018, and I say hello once again and welcome to my corner of the world wide web. It's quite the quaint place here at the ole blogger ranch. It's a type of recovery center for worn out keystrokes where they come to find a place on the page again. I've taken note how that many who follow my blogs enjoy me talking about my growing up days, the stuff of yesteryear, and those kinds of recollections. I've written before about some of my kinfolks who have been a part of my sojourn here on the planet. When I was a kid, fresh off the boat, so to speak, I recall going out to visit some of my grandfather's people. (I use that metaphor, fresh off the boat since we had moved to a tiny rural town from Port Arthur, Texas after my dad passed away.) We would load up in Paw Paw Mac's pick-up truck and head out to the country. (Might as well have been called the Outback.) We were headed for an area much more country than the small rural town we lived in. After several miles on the worn out blacktop road, we turned onto a red dirt road and made our way through the woods and over rickety bridges and we finally arrived at my grandfather's sister's house. I don't know if I had any idea what culture shock was, but, I do recall that everything there was different because these were people who lived, literally, off the land. Many years later, I understood that even though it was only a little more than 30 minutes away from town, this was as close to Appalachia one could get in that part of Louisiana.

I was maybe 8 at the time. For lack of a better way of saying it, compared to these folks I might as well have been a city slicker from New York City. They were always glad to see my grandpa. It was as if maybe he had made it out of the swamp. The house and fence were in pretty bad shape. Once we got inside my great aunt and the others fawned over me talking about how sad it was for my mom to be left with such a heavy burden to bear. I don't exactly know why, but, even at that age, I sensed that while we might be family, we certainly lived differently than these folks. We had running water. I don't think they did. We had a huge butane tank. They had a wood burning stove. They had electricity but the lights were dim as they had one bulb hanging down on a wire in the middle of each room. We had light fixtures. They were friendly, but, it was hard for me to pick up the dialect they spoke. Looking back, I'm pretty sure this was my first time to visit a foreign land. I remember every time we went, there was a lot of talk about medical problems and how they were waiting to get assistance from the government. I don't know how many families lived in that same house but it was several. I was paired off with some of the kids near my age and that was quite a learning experience for me. They were nice enough to me, even offering me a chew of tobacco and volunteering to roll me a cigarette too. No thanks. I had to pay close attention when they talked and even then I only caught a word now and then. They did seem to be happy with their life there, it being the only one they knew. They showed me around. We walked behind the house down to the creek. They took me through a couple of the nearby fields. They talked about how they helped to plow and plant. This too was part of my heritage.

Needless to say, I had no way of knowing at that time there was a young girl, 6 or 7, some 160 miles away, and she lived on a rural farm similar to my granddad's people's place. However, today, having direct knowledge of that girl's history, I recognize how she and her entire family can look back and be thankful for the faith, love, and family bond they experienced in that rural farm environment. They were poor, but, they often talk fondly of the foundations that were laid as they helped each other to get by, one day at a time. Don't get me wrong. They feel blessed that God's plan brought them out of that world into the one they enjoy today. Yet, they all have always shown a Godly pride in remembering their days down on the farm. For me, I was always glad to get back to our house after having visited our country cousins. When I would return, it made me appreciate the things I took for granted. We didn't have that much, but, compared to those folks living out off the red dirt road, well, we were more or less living like royalty. In my mid-teens, I was blessed to meet up with that same young girl who helped pick cotton as a tiny little kid. Today, after nearly 54 years of being married to that farm girl, I know that her life experiences helped make her into who she is. One thing I do remember from my visits out to our kin in the deep woods. They may have been poor but they always seemed to have coffee on the stove, chewing tobacco, snuff, and the items required to roll up a smoke. Those, I suppose, were deemed to be necessities. Like my Community Coffee. Yeah. I get it. How about you? Thanks for traveling along with me today. Lord willing, I will catch up with you next time. Until then, may God bless us all is my prayer. Amen. .....More later.

“It is spring again. The earth is like a child that knows poems by heart.” ― Rainer Maria Rilke, (1875-1926), Poet and Novelist

It's Wednesday, March 21, 2018, and I bring you greetings on the day after the official beginning of Spring, or at least that's what was written on the wall calendar I follow. I don't know about you but I am soaking up as much of these cooler mornings as I can, because, believe me, there is an expiration date and they will be only a memory before you know it. We do have pollen. The yellow stuff. Everyone is so happy when a shower comes along to wash some of that caked on stuff away. And, many have the sniffles that are either brought on by or aggravated by the pollen. Allergies. I can't remember if we had allergies when I was growing up. I'm not sure we were allowed. At any rate, I'm certain that whatever we encountered, my grandfather's overarching rule applied, "You've got the same shoes to get glad in." Don't take that to mean something negative. It was just how we operated our day to day living.  Paw Paw always gave you encouragement, "Son, I can tell you one thing for sure, it will feel better when it stops hurting." I'm not sure what temperature we had to have in order to pay a visit to our town physician, Dr. Stephens, but I'm pretty sure it had to indicate a real fever. Today, everything is knee-jerk, "Son, you most likely need to get that checked out. You just never know." Me too. I throw that one out almost everytime they tell me one of my grandchildren has some indication of an ailment. That must mean we are so much better off today. Does it? Think about it. I'm not so sure.

I think my folks attempted to be very Bible-oriented in how they handled things. The phrase, "it came to pass" shows up 480 times in our Authorized King James version. That supported their approach to dealing with challenges. It didn't come to stay, it came to pass. And, most of the time it worked. It really did. There were a few exceptions. I came down with pneumonia and had to hospitalized back when I was 12 or 13. I'm sure that happened after I didn't get better over an extended period of time. I also had my appendix out when I was 15. Yep. They couldn't do that one on a house visit, so I was operated on at the hospital. Oh yeah. I almost forgot. I had a huge gash on the top of my head sewed up at the clinic when I was a teen. But, before I went to get the stitches, I had some old-fashioned home remedy applied. We had been swimming and went to the house of some who were with us. It was the closest. I was bleeding profusely. Their dad, Mr. Davis, well, he put my head between his legs, held me down, and poured Iodine directly into the wound. I was ready to speak in many tongues at that moment. However, I well remember what Dr. Frazier said to my mom. "Mam, you don't have to worry about infection. This wound is fried. Literally. Nothing could live in it." I think he thought to pour that Iodine was a good thing. I did learn a valuable lesson from that experience. Don't dive headfirst into a swimming hole that you have never been to before. I didn't say their approach to raising kids made me any brighter. Is that why they call it the school of hard knocks?

That self-inflicted accident happened as a result of peer pressure. We didn't know that was the name back then, but, we had several of us boys racing down the hill to get to the swimming hole first. I won the race but didn't get a prize for finding the stump. I knew I had hit something, but, I didn't know I had opened up my skull. When the girls finally got there, they freaked out when they saw blood instead of water running down my face. Who knew? I know what you are thinking. If I took that hard of a lick on my head that far back, well, you are thinking that might explain a lot. Add to that the Iodine sterilization and the lead pencils and going barefoot and having no seatbelts and drinking water from a dipper, well, all of that together and so much more, it might just explain a lot. It does. It tells the story of my growing up among people who loved me and did the best they knew how to see after my needs. The other day, I caught the tail end of one of those programs where the Christian psychologist was trying to help a man cope with having never heard his dad say that he loved him. The man was a little younger than me. I have no recollection of my grandfather ever saying he loved me. But, I have no recollection growing up, and since, of ever thinking even once that he didn't. It was clear to me that he did. He loved us all. He was devoted to his family. He proved that every day of his life. That's good enough for me, but, thanks, Doctor, for asking. See you next time. Until then, may God bless us all. Amen. ....More later.

“There is no doubt that I have lots of words inside me; but at moments, like rush-hour traffic at the mouth of a tunnel, they jam.” ― John Updike

Hello and welcome to Tuesday, March 20, 2018. Here in our area Spring Break has ended and everyone is now back to doing their best to suppress their road rage inclinations. I saw several postings on back to work Monday where they were saying that traffic was completed jammed. Welcome back. We enjoyed you enjoying your time off. I hope you had a good time. We did. At least, the traffic was much lighter. Now we have the re-training in progress of all of those who forgot how to drive while they were away. It doesn't take many to make a mess. Oh well, this is life in the suburbs, or a facsimile thereof. It's grown up so much I'm not even sure it can be called a suburb anymore. I think it just might be a 'large human settlement' in the making. I used that one from Wiki that gave it as a way to describe the word 'city'. Whatever it is that we are, I can assure you we do not have enough lanes available to avoid gridlock. The catch-up projects are always problematic since they exacerbate the already upside down traffic problems and here's the truth, typically, by the time they finish, it's time to work on the next revision. How do you know this was not a part of the original plans? It's pretty clear when you see them having to dig up and relocate all the underground facilities to accommodate another lane to support traffic flow. I believe there was a master plan at one time but progress, spelled MONEY, typically always trumps any previous plans. Just a traffic user's perspective, coming to you live and in color from the ole blogger ranch. (See the photo above.)

I still see critters on my way into work in the wee hours of the morning. I sometimes do not recognize exactly what critter I am seeing. Yesterday morning I saw some eyes light up and when the animal turned to run away I could see only the outline of a bushy tail. The eyes were large. On that same trip, I saw another one that still has me scratching my head. I came around a curve and an animal was on the side of the road in the grass. My lights barely caught it. It looked silver. But, here's what really got me. Suddenly, it rushed me like it was going after my truck. It seemed to run almost like a dog that chases a vehicle. I have no idea what that was all about. I've heard about those raccoons that go mental and they act very strangely when they do. This didn't seem to be a raccoon, but, what in the world would have possessed it to charge my truck? Most of the time I spot different ones of all sizes and I have some idea what they might be, a skunk, an opossum, maybe a coyote or even the occasional giant owl. But these two left me puzzled. Any animal with a big bushy tail is not something I see very often and when the wild animals start chasing my vehicle, well, I'm not sure if the rest home is that far away for me. Yep. It does keep me focused on the road up ahead and on both sides.

I actually do not want to be on an episode of 'When Animals Attack.' Some days you do wonder if maybe you should have slept in. The same yesterday, I stopped to fuel up my pickup and guess what? They had some kind of computer problem and not one of the pumps was working. I went up to the door and I saw the fellow inside. He was working. The door was locked. I got his attention and he sign languaged me back that everything was down and no one could get gas until it was fixed. He shrugged his shoulders. I shrugged mine. Over 20 pumps and not one of them working. A computer issue. This is the world we live in. I mean, I would be glad for that little TV screen to not be able to show stuff while I'm filling up my vehicle, but, one would think they would have a way to sell gasoline when the system is trying to figure out what to show next. It was irritating, but, if that's the worst thing to happen to me, I suppose I can move on. Yeah. After I left that C-Store, that's when I saw the bushy-tailed figment of my imagination and that ferocious something that tried its version of road rage out on me. I don't think we have Tasmanian Devils in this area. See what I mean? I could have waited until after daylight. Maybe the gas pumps would have been working and all the animals would have been back in their dens with their little feet up on their little ottomans. Maybe. Maybe not. To put an exclamation point on today's visit, when I came out of the house this morning, a huge owl flew out of its nesting tree. I could hear its wings flapping and it let out that blood-curdling scream. Yikes!  Thanks, Mr. or Mrs. Owl for the spilled coffee. Enjoy the rest of your day and may God bless us all is my prayer. Amen. ....More later.