borrowing again from Daily Om

When our minds are cluttered with too many thoughts and information, our bodies respond by trying to take action.

Our minds and bodies are interconnected, and the condition of one affects the condition of the other. This is why meditation is such a powerful tool for healing the body, as powerful as physical therapies. When our minds are cluttered with thoughts, information, and plans, our bodies respond by trying to take action. When the body has a clear directive from the mind, it knows what to do, but a cluttered, unfocused mind creates a confused, tense body. Our muscles tighten up, our breath shortens, and we find ourselves feeling constricted without necessarily knowing why.

When we sit down to meditate, we let our bodies know that it is okay to be still and rest. This is a clear directive from the mind, and the body knows exactly how to respond. Thus, at the very beginning, we have created a sense of clarity for the body and the mind. As we move deeper into meditation, the state of our mind reveals itself, and we have the opportunity to consciously decide to settle it. A meditation teacher pointed out that if you put a cow in a small pen, she acts up and pushes against the boundaries, whereas if you provide her with a large, open space, she will peacefully graze in one spot. In the same way, our thoughts settle down peacefully if we provide them with enough space, and our bodies follow suit.


Holding onto regret is like dragging the weight of the past with us everywhere. It drains our energy, leaving less available for life now.

Holding onto regret is like dragging the weight of the past with us everywhere we go. It drains our energy, leaving less available for life in the present because we are constantly feeding an old issue. This attachment can cause illness the same way watering a dead plant creates decay. We know that something new and beautiful can grow in its place if we only prepare the soil and plant the right seeds. We also know that we create our lives from our thoughts, so dwelling on the past may actually recreate a situation in our lives where we are forced to make the choice again and again. We can choose to move on right now by applying what we have learned to the present and perhaps even sharing with others, transforming the energy into something that is constructive and creative for ourselves and others.

Forgiveness is the soothing balm that can heal regret. In meditation, we can imagine discussing the issue with the self of our past and offering our forgiveness for the choice. In return, we can ask for our selves’ forgiveness for keeping them locked in that space of judgment for so long. We may also want to ask forgiveness from anyone else who may have been affected and perhaps offer our forgiveness. By replaying the event in our minds, we can choose a new ending using all that we now know. Imagine that you have actually gone back into the past and made this change, and then say goodbye to it. Release your former self with a hug and bring the forgiveness and love back with you to the present. Since we are usually our harshest critics, it is amazing how powerfully healing it can be to offer ourselves love.

Keeping our minds and our energy fully in the present allows us to fuel our physical and emotional healing and well-being today. This action frees our energy to create the dreams we dream for the future. By taking responsibility and action in the present, we can release our hold on the past.

My Grandfather. .... by king harris.

I first met Bayard Stockton in 1985 when he invited me to be on his KMGQ radio show called Santa Barbara’s Good Companions. He was intrigued by the role of television news anchors, and I was awed because I felt like I was being interviewed by Edward R. Murrow. Foreign correspondents like Bayard were gods to all upstart journalists and I wasn’t disappointed. But I do remember that when I told him the well-written word wasn’t as necessary in my business as his, thunder roared.

But Bayard thundered and roared about a lot of things, like Y2K and the Iraq war and Homeland Security and the Santa Barbara Film Festival and the News-Press debacle and anything else he thought was screwed up, including his own life. Privileged though he was, he did not have an easy time of it. Born October 27, 1930 in Lausanne, Switzerland, to Margaret Forest Zabriskie and Philip Bayard Stockton, he grew up as an only and lonely child in the New York environs of Gramercy Park and Long Island’s North Shore. He couldn’t get close to his mother because she wouldn’t allow it, and he rarely saw his father, who was lodged in an insane asylum. Bayard, having now become self-reliant, was shuffled off to private boarding schools like Harvey and then Exeter Academy, from which he graduated in 1946. He went on to attend Williams College, where he excelled at swimming and majored in political science. But he never finished (though he later receive an honorary degree). Instead, he opted to become a spy for the U.S. government.

“You’re kidding me, right?” I remember asking during the early days of our friendship, when he first told me about his espionage background.

“Nope,” he replied. “Almost 10 years, for the CIA in Berlin, in the 1950s.”

I started to get paranoid. “I’m not being recorded, am I?” I asked. I didn’t think people could ever leave the CIA. And I wondered how one got into it in the first place.

In Bayard’s case, he was recruited. The Army, it seems, was looking for the best and the brightest to fight the Cold War in Europe. Curious and intrigued, Bayard studied psychological warfare, took a crash course in German, learned to witness from the shadows, and became a case officer for the Central Intelligence Agency. Bayard later recalled that his grandest experience during this time — other than serving with infamous undercover colleague Bill Harvey (about whom he later wrote a book) — was flushing out Soviet counterespionage agent Heinz Frose, who was working for the Americans under the name Hans Friesen. Frose was later convicted of high treason, much to the chagrin of Bayard’s superiors, who never believed it true. Was it a career fraught with danger? “Not in the slightest,” according to Bayard’s longtime partner George Kirby. “All we did was drink, smoke, party, and socialize,” he once told me. But all would not remain gay. By the tail end of the ’50s, both Bayard’s parents had died and his days as a spy were over, as was his six-year first attempt at marriage.

His second was to a woman he met at a Communist rally in Berlin in 1958. Bayard and Erdmuthe Von Flemming wed in 1960, the year that he started work as a foreign correspondent for Newsweek, first in Bonn and soon after in London. By the latter part of the ’60s, Bayard and Erdmuthe had produced three highly spirited children — Tara, Philip, and Vanessa — and were living in Greece. It was, according to Philip, the best of times. “Dad had a boat called the Alkyon,” he recalled. “All we did was swim and fish and play in the water.” Bayard, now freelancing, banged away on his typewriter from the stern of his ship. “He wasn’t as intense, though,” said Philip. “Dad seemed more carefree, and was very Bohemian.”

Given that climate and lifestyle, it’s easy to see how Bayard ultimately ended up in Santa Barbara. He divorced Erdmuthe in 1980 and moved to Santa Barbara one year later, where he quickly got involved in the community, first on radio. Over the years, he would be known in Santa Barbara as a teacher, writer, lecturer, media hound, political watchdog, and staunch supporter of causes like Veterans for Peace. He also authored three books: Flawed Patriot, a biography of CIA legend Bill Harvey; Nothing to Fear, a fictionalized account of the Y2K scare; and Catapult, a biography of mind expansion pioneer Robert Monroe.

When he wasn’t writing, he was at the beach: either Hendry’s — his favorite — where he would parade around from shore to sea, or a nude beach somewhere south, parading around for all to see. What better place to pursue his perpetual lust for the ladies. Bayard’s conquests got to be so numerous, his daughter Tara recently told me, that he wasn’t allowed to introduce any new girlfriends to his children unless the relationship was six months old.

He never quit, either. Just last October on his 75th birthday, he told me he was seeking a woman with at least 60 years of age, who was well-traveled, intelligent, and sexy. As far as I know, he never connected. But he did find peace. He discovered it one day in the early ’90s. It was the day he called me from Hell.

“King, this is Bayard. I need you to come over right now and convince me why I shouldn’t kill myself. Because that’s what I’m about to do.” He was not sober — though he sounded too exhausted to be drunk — but I hoped it was the bottle talking. Booze was Bayard’s worst enemy. He had quit 10 years earlier, even joined AA. I raced to his house to find he had relapsed and was on the tail end of a two-week binge, his spirit as empty as the empty liquor bottles I found all over the place. “At least you could drink the good stuff, Bay,” I remarked. When he laughed, I knew things would be okay. After four hours of talking about life and death, his mother and father, his children, his work, and his play, I drove him to the hospital, where he surrendered. He never touched another drop. When I asked him years later what I said that changed his mind and his life, he replied, “You answered my question.”

“What question?” I asked.

“Did I contribute? In all these years, did I ever make any difference?”

Are you kidding? See you at Hendry’s, Bayard.

In the bonds, King

:) thank you.

.

villagebeat.org

a interesting and thoughtful film.

the organization behind it seems a little intense... but as though they may have some very good intentions.

http://villagebeat.org/

gratitudinal

the good things of this week:

like eddie said last night: you cannot create GRATITUDE. it just comes over you in a flood. flowing and all consuming.

.Katie Upton... the most amazing artist i know of, agreed to meet with me. http://katieupton.com/ she will look over my work, i over hers.. and mayhaps she'll give me a little direction

.Horses. God do I love those horses.

.comversations: katie cesareo, eric cohen, michael de l'arbre, anji trugillo, graham harbison, fred graham, david denison, reuben smith, nicholas coolridge, jen houston, kensey daly, i am thankful for all of you.

.interning at direct relief. always a major refresher.

.finding luna a home. god, it could not be better. pink blanket, carrying crate, harness and a home made sheperds pie.

.school. although you drive me crazy, i am so glad everytime we meet over a cup of black.

.yoga. my core is strong and my breath is now soft.

thank you for this week. im am flying high.

daily om. borrowing good energy again.

Mayhaps this summed up last night's yoga:

Sometimes we find it difficult to see the good in people, places, or situations that aren’t to our liking. We focus on the things we don’t like in our lives as a way of fueling our efforts to create change. There is nothing inherently wrong with this, and it is one way we make progress. However, if we get too caught up in this way of looking at the world, we lose touch with our ability to sit back and simply say yes to everything on our plates, which is the true starting point for all successful activity. Sometimes what we really need is to encourage ourselves to look deeply into all things in our lives to see the inherent goodness at the heart of everything.

At the core of this inquiry is the practice of unconditional acceptance, which can be scary because we feel as if we are being asked not to change the things we don’t like. But when we think this way, we are still operating on the surface of our lives. In order to feel the beauty and warmth of full acceptance, we have to be willing to sink deeper into the stratum underlying the external manifestation of our lives. This deeper place of being is the origin of all lasting change, yet its paradox is that when we are in it, we often don’t feel the need to change anything. From this place, we experience the pure beauty of the process of being alive, and we see that all things change in their own time. We don’t need to force anything. If there are things that we do need to change, from this place of serenity we create the shift easily, our hands guided by an energy that resides at the very center of our hearts.

In our active, goal-oriented culture, we learn to distrust stillness and to engage in busywork on the surface of life. This tendency can blind us to the good that lies at the heart of all things. But all we have to do to see again is stop for a moment, let go of our preconceptions and our agendas, and settle into the very center of our hearts, remembering that it is only from here that we can truly see.

what is a day in sb?

spring,

summer09

start the day at 8:30. breakfast bowl, cai, cold black tea and the park in extending from my window.

work from 9-11:00 at the zoo. on the hilltop, with giraffes and the ocean. have my aged quizzed. my name misspelled and laughter. work in khaki, linen pants and a white cotton shirt. boots.

get off work, hear the moutains calling me. they call, and i come. hot springs trail today, they had something to tell me ... 'reconsider your concept of faith', (don't give up on it, let it go, there might be something to it).

head home, clean up, put the khaki pants back on.

head to the soup kitchen with riegler, offer to volunteer. asked to return at 4:30.

run to the roco. to do some organic chemistry, write and ruminate about the life i have.

graham's going to show up. we're going to do some work. have some more ice tea, maybe an iced cappucino.

check out cute roco boy.

finish organic chem, and go for a walk to the art museum. free today. explore the art, and head back to the soup kitchen.

maybe go to the dog shelter, get a sheperd and dance on the beach at a bonfire after.

head home to see mama, and my cousin niko from germany. and his three friends. invite friends. drink beers and laugh. always, laugh.

new years story. carrot. egg. coffee.

A carrot, an egg and a cup of coffee... You will never look at a cup of coffee the same way again.

A young woman went to her mother and told her about her life and how things were so hard for her. She did not know how she was going to make it and wanted to give up. She was tired of fighting and struggling. It seemed as one problem was solved, a new one arose.

Her mother took her to the kitchen. She filled three pots with water
and placed each on a high fire. Soon the pots came to boil. In the first she placed carrots, in the second she placed eggs, and in the last she placed ground coffee beans. She let them sit and boil, without saying a word.

In about twenty minutes she turned off the burners. She fished the
carrots out and placed them in a bowl. She pulled the eggs out and placed them in a bowl. Then she ladled the coffee out and placed it in a bowl.

Turning to her daughter, she asked, "Tell me, what do you see?"

"Carrots, eggs, and coffee," she replied. Her mother brought her closer and asked her to feel the carrots. She did and noted that they were soft.

The mother then asked the daughter to take an egg and break it. After pulling off the shell, she observed thehard boiled egg. Finally, the mother asked the daughter to sip the coffee.

The daughter smiled as she tasted its rich aroma. The daughter then asked, "What does it mean, mother?"

Her mother explained that each of these objects had faced the same adversity ... boiling water . Each reacted differently. The carrot went in strong, hard, and unrelenting. However, after being subjected to the boiling water, it softened and became weak. The egg had been fragile.

Its thin outer shell had protected its liquid interior, but after sitting
through the boiling water, its inside became hardened. The ground
coffee beans were unique, however. After they were in the boiling water, they had changed the water.

"Which are you?" she asked her daughter.

"When adversity knocks on your door, how do you respond? Are you a carrot, an egg or a coffee bean?"

Think of this: Which am I? Am I the carrot that seems strong, but with pain and adversity do I wilt and become soft and lose my strength? Am I the egg that starts with a malleable heart, but changes with the heat?

Did I have a fluid spirit, but after a death, a breakup, a financial
hardship or some other trial, have I become hardened and stiff? Does my shell look the same, but on the inside am I bitter and tough with a stiff spirit and hardened heart? Or am I like the coffee bean? The bean actually changes the hot water, the very circumstance that brings the pain. When the water gets hot, it releases the fragrance and flavor. If you are like the bean, when things are at their worst, you get better and change the situation around you. When the hour is the darkest and trials are their greatest, do you elevate yourself to another level?

How do you handle adversity? Are you a carrot, an egg or a coffee bean?


May you have enough happiness to make you sweet, enough trials to make you strong, enough sorrow to keep you human and enough hope to make you happy.

The happiest of people don't necessarily have the best of everything; they just make the most of everything that comes along their way.

The brightest future will always be based on a forgotten past; you
can't go forward in life until you let go of your past failures and
heartaches.

When you were born, you were crying and everyone around you was smiling.

Live your life so at the end, you're the one who is smiling and everyone around you is crying.



HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!

Esteem conversations at the Coffee Bean

Physical Conversation

Vie:

A point of balance. When the horse, male, female, gelding or mare, finds herself. She trots along like nothing could phase the perfect balance she has found in her own movements. She moves, trot, stepping, lifting legs with a round back and neck to match.

I hold her with my reins. Each time I tug, adjust, she moves. That the inner rein is what makes her curve and the outer gives her stability to move with effortlessness that looks to come from her alone.

We move into the canter and find a resistance. There is a tension.

This is one of the most beautiful examples of two bodies working together for joint purpose, moderated by respective movements which affect the other so intensively that one can go from shaky to balanced and vice versa, depending on what the other does.

I call it my physical conversation. We are not talking, we don't speak each others language….. but, we can move together. Almost as dancers do, or lovers.

The words physical conversation keep cropping up as we trot in circles. For that, is what it is.. …a physical conversation.

Seal:

He and I start popping over rails. Flying over first a foot and a half, then a series of two jumps and then four feet. Never have I felt so connected, yet not, to a horse. We are in harmony, flying and landing in unison, not tied. Members on a two part team, sort of separate but totally connected.

what i may be adding to my life this week :) :

What I did add:

Now... name?

What Is ...

Lieblinge.

Unstiffen your supple body

Unchatter your quiet mind Unfreeze your fiery heart

Was du liebst, das lass frei. Kommt es zurueck, gehoert es Dir - fuer immer. -Confuscius

Ich bin klein, mein Herz ist rein: darf keiner drin wohnen als Jesus allein -Papu

Shift.

Horses. Freedom. Schokolade. Freunde/Freude. Predictable. Pomodoro. Organisch.

Pascion. Zitrone.

Open.

A great society grown when old men plant trees the shade of which they know they will never sit in -Jonah

Kindness costs you nothing.

Breathe. Even if it threatens the shape and the shape falls. Breathe to feel life. -Eddie

Your whole life is here
No eleventh hour reprieve

So don't forget to breathe -Alexi Murdoch

I love the morning.

Have a little faith in the universe. .. KTB

A lack of vulnerability is the last quality you can hang onto .. even as you are an adult. -Leanne

Give the benefit of the doubt.

Glorification of the creation of personality - Leanne

drop the melted snow in your hands. - Eddie

i am writing graffiti on your body. i am drawing the story. your bones have been my bed frame and your flesh has been my pillow.

Learning that we do not always get what we want.

Days never run the way you think they will.

The new focus on space. Freedom. Space. Room. space. according, peace. energy.

Temper everything with a smile.

I hate texting. God do I ever.

kid gloves. metaphorical and real. wear em.

It takes a village to raise a child.

.

Thin Blue Flame. Josh Ritter.

I became a thin blue flame, polished on a mountain range… And over hills and fields I flew, wrapped up in a royal blue. I flew over Royal City last night, bullfighter on the horns of a new moon light. Caesar’s ghost — I saw the war-time tides. The Prince of Denmark’s father — still and quiet. The whole world was looking to get drowned. Trees were a fist, shaking themselves at the clouds. I looked over curtains, oh it’s then that I knew — that only a full house gonna make it through.

I became a thin blue wire that held the world above the fire. And so it was I saw behind — heaven’s just a thin blue line. If God’s up there, he’s in a cold, dark room. The heavenly host are just the cold dark moons. He bent down and made the world in seven days, and ever since he’s been walking away. Mixing with nitrogen in lonely holes where neither seraphim or raindrops go; I see an old man wandering the halls alone, but only a full house gonna make a home.

And I became a thin blue stream, the smoke between asleep and dreams. And in that clear blue undertow, ‘saw Royal City far below. Borders soft with refugees, streets aswimming with amputees. It’s a bible or a bullet they put over your heart — it’s getting harder and harder to tell them apart. The days are nights and the nights are long.. Beating hearts blossom into walking bombs.. And those still looking in the clear blue sky for a sign, get missiles from so high they might as well be divine. And now the dogs are howling at your door, singing about vengeance like it’s the joy of the lord. Bringing justice to the enemies — not the other way ‘round. They’re guilty where killed and they’re killed where they’re found. If what’s loosed on earth will be loosed up on high, it’s a hell of a heaven we must go to when we die — where even Laurel begs Hardy for vengeance, please; the fat man is crying on his hands and his knees. Back in the peacetime he caught roses on the stage, now he twists indecision; takes bourbon for rage. Lead pellets peppering aluminum, halcyon, laudanum and opium. Sings, “kiss thee Hardy, this poisoned cup.” His wind-up sheet is busy winding up. In darkness he looks for the lights that have died; you need faith for the same reasons that it’s so hard to find. And this whole thing is headed for a terrible wreck — and like good tragedy, that’s what we expect

At night I make plans for a city laid down — the hips of a girl on the spring-covered ground. Spirals and capitals and the twists of a script, streets named for heroes that could almost exist. Fruit trees from Eden and the gardens that seem to float like the smoke from a lithium dream. Cedar trees growing in the cool of the squares; young women walking in the portals of prayer. The future glass buildings and the past, an address; the weddings in pollen and the wine bottomless.. And all wrongs forgotten and all vengeance made right; the suffering verbs put to sleep in the night. The future descending like a bright chandelier, the world’s beginning and the guests ‘in good cheer. In Royal City I fell into a trance, cut it’s hell to believe there ain’t a hell of a chance.

I woke beneath a clear blue sky.. The sun: a shout, the breeze: a sigh. The old hometown and streets I knew were wrapped up in a royal blue. I heard my friends laughing out across the fields… The girls in the gloaming and the birds on the wheel. The raw smell of horses and the warm smell of hay; cicadas electric in the heat of the day. A run of Three Sisters and the flush of the land, and the lake was a diamond in the valley’s hand. The straight of the highway and the scattered-out hearts, they were coming together, they were pulling apart. And angels everywhere were in my midst, in the ones that I loved and the ones that I kissed. I wondered what it was I’d been looking for above.. Heaven’s so big there ain’t no need to look up. So I stopped looking for royal cities in the air — only a full house gonna have a prayer.

donnie.

oh grunge. how we love you.

graham.... you owe me. (well.. i also owe you).

beauty

What Is ...

A funny, funny developed maybe two weeks ago in an early morning conversation over black tea with donnie:

Define:

Hooking up

Seeing

Dating

Exclusive

Friends w/benefits

Sleeping with

Relationship

Involved

Casual

Platonic

Single

Gypsy

Now:

Compare. So far, not one of you has had the same definition.

.

East Coast to California ... Roadtrippin

Day One

Friday, January 10th 2010

For some reason Kensey thinks our flight boards at 11:10. Well, it leaves at 10:10… as we discover as we hear our names in combination with ‘Last boarding call!!’ coming over the intercom. Hahahhaha. Holy, holy. What a morning… J and what a way to start the trip.

Virgin Air is ridiculous. Purple lighting. Black leather seats. White trim everywhere. They gave us phenomenal oversized headphones that I’m using now.

We have chat conversations from chair to chair. You can ‘poke’ you neighbor on their screen and then ‘text’ between seats.

Arrive in Beverly, MA. In the snow. Dressed as californians. Have a Cranberry-Vodka (which will become the drink of the trip. Why? Hm… its tart?). Talk with Kirsten, about love.

Saturday, January 9th , 2010.

Day two of trip.

We roamed around downtown (Beantown) w/Kirsten, who we are staying with. She is redhead #3. 3 red heads, all 5’8” and early 20's. Walking round downtown Boston… God, it’s cold.

Bettina: “You don’t want to go to church tomorrow do you?”

Kensey: (long pause/weird look) “…uh… were we invited or something?”

Quote, overheard while standing on Sam Adam’s grave: “You don’t have

to be mad at her, just because she wasn’t thankful for the kidney.”

Sam Adams beers were in our hands before our scarf’s were off our

necks, as we walked in the Boston pub Saturday night. These boys think

we are a redheaded lesbian couple going to Harvard.

Day three

Digging our car out of the snow while still buzzey from the night before.

We’re talking three feet of rock hard, old, grungy snow.

WEMB: W = Wedding. E = Engagement. M = Marriage. B =

Bride/Bridesmaid. Those words were in every other sentence.

Rolled number #1, and of course, met the downstairs neighbor while

doing so.

b.good, organic veggie-nut burgers, Newbury Street, Boston.

Bettina’s scarf looked like a purple, oversized octopussy. Gave boys

absolutely brilliant ideas for good pick-up lines at every bar.

There are NO gay men ANYWHERE on the east coast. We met our first one

and had a party. Kensey spots at least 50 undercover though… J

The best soapy/salty hand scrubs of our lives on Newbury Street at Sabon

Soaps.

January 11, 2010, Monday, 8:55 ECT

Day Four

The Atomic Café … the best coffee known to man. Epic hipsters.

Last night, we invited Scott (the downstairs, 2nd floor neighbor) up for a

drink. We knocked on his door every 20 minutes… for, hm, quite awhile.

Finally around 11:00pm he was home. He brought over beer J we all

thought he was so, so sweet… a nurse who plays guitar. We were trying

to connect him with the adorable roommate that Kirsten lives with. And,

as it turns out, the roomie was ‘pleasantly surprised’ by him J … let’s

hope that one keeps moving along. Nobody likes to sleep alone. J

The roommates are chillers and Kensey becomes convinced every other

man we meet is just not out the closet yet.

We both woke up dreaming and thinking about food! (Actually, we woke

Up dreaming about the same things most days). 6:00am, breakfast at

Stephy’s diner with David Denison and split a veggie omelet/cinnamon

Vienna French toast.

Quote: “Our ETA is 4:57 PM” …. Drive #1, here we go. Destination:

Washington DC.

Kensey’s kids names: Rowan & Ruby.

Mine? Hahahahaha, Constantin, Bayard and Alexandra. Maybe a Phillip and an Aurora.

Quote, text to Chris: “Jersey Shore Guido Bitch!!!” … cruising through the

scenery of the Jersey Shore.

Quote, man at the gas station: “You all sisters? Cuz you sure look like it!’

… we went with it. From there on, we were related.

Breakfast with David. Lunch with Jacqui. Dinner with Ronnie/Hailey.

January 14, 2009 – Savannah, GA

Quote, walking the river boardwalk: ”Those are some good-lookin briches

those girls are wearing!” …. We were in matching pair of black leggings.

Pralines on the boardwalk.

Espresso Gallery has a selection of 150 loose leaf teas. Did you know that they make pan-fried teas? Ginseng Black wins.

Marc Jacobs sells multi colored, designer condoms.

Kensey bought four dresses.

The Paris store, it broke my heart. Pure joy and great French perfume.

Zunzi’s belongs to a sweet South African man, with a beautiful four-year-old daughter, from Johannesburg.

Beautiful two-year-old Wilhelmina with curly brown locks and cutest, most

joyful eyes of our lives. Her dog’s fur color matched her hair.

Being photographed by Allie Morris. Who’s kitchen has a black and white

checkered floor.

Falling in pink, fuzzy socks on slippery wooden stairs.

Quote, (which should be your new pick-up line): ‘Wow, you look just like

the girl I lost my virginity too!’

Made friends with the DJ who opened for Girl Talk at a bar called Seed, Savannah GA.

The Rail has great Guinness.

Quote: ‘Promise, only one beer.’

Girls in the bar discussing how they wanted to sleep with the girl in the painting.

A grad student in Savannah informed us that we were in fact not sisters, apparently our different cheekbone structure gave us away. We totally dumbstruck. He was a grad student who studied ‘beauty and female objectification in video games’… go. figure.

Quote, …oh Allie: ‘Stop thinking about him! But, uh, why didn’t you get his information?’

Mind reading, of course. Always. We may actually need a gene check.

Gnarly late night conversation about the ethics of cheating in relationships.

Quote, somewhere in Texas: “Neither of us could have picked a better girl to go on this trip with”.

Drink of the trip: Cranberry vodka. Music of the trip: rap. Favorite meal: breakfast.

FLOWERS, MISSSISIPPI.

Spent some time in front of a lovely little church in this quaint, itty-bitty town.

Saw a wolf in the clouds

Somewhere in Texas

Wearing the ‘Wifey’ shirt, (print of your sexy wife and a bottle of vodka), in bible country while noting an interesting buffet dinner in the gas station.

Being relationship counselors to old and new friends. Phone calls as we drive.

Getting people.

Kensey is a thinker and a rocket ship.

The Dalai Lama talks about science.

Long, long drives. Beautiful, long straight roads.

The value of thinking deeply. Quietly.

James, the old Volvo, hits 110mph pretty well. We speed in teams.

‘Where are we?’

Sketchy McDonalds wouldn’t give us water.

Texts coming in from a salsa bar in Hong Kong. Received while listening to the WildCat Club mix in a Volvo somewhere in Texas.

Kensey: “I can see why it’s so religious out here, what else do you have to do?”

Bettina: “Read the Bible or speed.”

Since when are there kosher vending machines???

This whole trip we owe to seeing Sean Hayes in concert.

Street & Place Names

Rowanty Creek.

Stinky Creek.

Chunky River.

Canoochee River.

Oconee River.

Chattahoochee River.

Cheacha State Park.

Moody Odenville, AL.

Talladega, AL.

Bossier City.

Skeet’s BBQ, ‘All you can eat!’

Billboards

JOHN 3:16

Jesus apparently talks to you through billboards. About half were signed ‘God’.

‘Hunting Convention. This thing is legendary.’

Bumper Sticker & License plates

‘Don’t Ram it, Stroke it’ … back of a big Chevy truck.

‘God, Guns & Guts’ … on another massive truck.

‘RUNUOVR’ … oversized truck #3. … each of these trucks has a US Army sticker on it.

‘I AM TOFF’ … truck #4

Trucks with bull horns on the top.

Trips To Take

Portland Road Trip: Salem, Capitola, Big Sur, Yosemite, Sierra Nevada, Redwood Parks

Zion: Grand Canyon

Italy & Scotland: Naples, Rome, Quiqueterre, Montevecchio, Capri, Anacapri, Naples

New Zealand & Australia

Motorcycle trip across America: