pillbox

...hard to believe. I've reached the point in my life where people are telling me I should retire. Not because I have any money, but because I'm having a hard time keeping up with my two jobs. My other half wants me to retire before I drop dead, and I'm beginning to think she might be right.  Oh well. I guess I'll go take my increasing volume of nightly tablets. Sheesh.

Sometimes, I lock my self out of my own mind. And the fence is too thin. I have to make some decisions. But it's hard, because my feelings are so close to the surface. Made the right decision today though. Went for a walk. Took this photo. Seems to fit my frame of mind.

...I remember, growing up, just a few miles from here. The sunshine. The fresh air. the backyard littered with clover, with hundreds of bees happily hopping around. Honey bees, Bumble bees. Occasionally, nasty looking wasps with pointy bottoms. All of them ignoring me. I must have been four, or five. The joy of being alive along with other things that were alive. That was my world that day, awash in the colors of new, and pain, newly discovered, trying to touch one. I remember it clearly, and in a blur. My love for the world was boundless, and the bee sting just a part of it. Part of me is in that day, that memory, and that is one of the reasons why I'm worried about the bees. Not just the bees, of course. But they are symptomatic of the ills that befall us. That belief, the belief of the very, very young in the adults around us is no longer enough. We were mistaken. The good people, who might have been in charge - have been supplanted by greedy, heartless pigs. The environment

...high up on the old mining road, we were riding our mini bikes as fast as they would go. I lost my dog, couldn't find her, because of course, she was either left behind in the confusion and noise, or she chased something into the rocks. We had climbed high up into the mountain, dust hanging in the air, as the oil trucks, that in those days sprayed waste oil to keep the dust down, didn't go that far.  I looked for her of course, and was worried about her. It was summer, but not hot like it is these days. Also, we lived in the mountains, and had climbed to the top of the little bluff. Probably a thousand feet higher. And we were young and jazzing around at high speed, you know, for fun. No helmets. Hey it was off road, and the '70's. We didn't think of it I guess, although I had a helmet for sure. About a half an hour later though, I was rewarded with my friend, Jerry, coming back down the road towards me. His bike was covering ground at a mad pace, the little motor