About backing up. There was a short period of time when my pickup didn’t respond properly when I shifted it into reverse, it just stayed right where it was and ran in place, dumbfounded! The pickup drove forward fine, so I just had to be careful how I used it. The following occasion I recall with clarity!
After I had made a lumber purchase, I was told that a forklift would be required to load my purchase. The forklift driver waved for me to follow as we headed down an access road, in the lumberyard, rows of lumber were stacked on either side. “Whoops,” I thought as we drove further and further, “He doesn’t know that we've forgotten how to back up.” My mind flew frantically into a search for possible solutions to this dilemma. “Should I honk my horn and hope he hears me over the drone of the forklift motor?” I really felt the need to explain my predicament to the forklift operator. Maybe I should have had a sign taped on the pickup window, This pickup can’t back up, please avoid dead ends and blind alleys!
Likewise, there are times in my life when I suddenly realize that I too am unable to back up. When I participate in a gossip session for example. I can’t simply back up, swallow my words, then go forward from there again. Any words I’ve said that damaged character, remain out there and I can’t back over them and start over. Backing up to get a new start is about as easy as trying to force toothpaste back into the tube.

Words of introduction still struggling to reveal their secrets,
I dutifully step beside her, my heart in throat and climbing,,
Yet, anticipating good fortune as if within easy reach,
Acutely obsessed by beautiful flowing hair, teasing anxious breezes.

Shadows whispering through tall grasses,
Gluing every line and curve into perfect anatomy,
Magnifying unsettled moments
Catching me awkwardly lunging forward, gently.

With ecstatic air, Irish Queen cautiously presses forward,
No wasted glance to endorse my presence.
Yet, I know she knows,
Just the two of us, afield, alone!

I dare not interrupt,
But suddenly she halts abruptly,
Tense, as if studying the golden sunset.
A few more nervous steps and the sky explodes.

Then the bark, brass covered cylinders hurtling to the earth!
Accepting the good fortune anticipated, we return.
Fresh straw sliding and adjusting as Irish Queen kennels
While Cornish Hens are being prepared to grace the tables.

During my search for convenience, I was led to my drawer of colorful socks, slightly scrambled. There’s where my thought process exploded!
1- Every week, all those laundered beauts have to be sorted and matched while folding.
2 - If I’m not really careful when I go out in the morning, @ one of my feet might not both be the same!
3 - All those snazzy colors are hidden by cowboy boots anyhow.
4 - Let’s go with nothing but black, no sorting or folding required.
5 - Settled, we’re going with black.
Lessons learned;
1- There is charcoal black, gray black. green black, brown black, blue black and black black simply mentioning a few.
2 - Just to be safe, don’t ever remove both cowboy boots at the same time at the same place.
3 - Before black, everybody figured a sock mismatch, when worn, was intentional.
4 - There are 24 shades of black in 12 pairs of socks.
5 - Settled, when I decided to go with black, I should have bought my entire sock collection off the same hook!
Maybe I should change to blue.

@ Borrowed from “What is the difference between a duck?
There isn’t any, one of its feet are both the same.”

(I’d like to see this one illustrated)

To watch a chicken hunt and peck,
Really makes me laugh!
I think I’ll give her a long, long neck
Like is on top of the tall giraffe.

The duck needs legs like the kangaroo’s
But, her toes’ll be in the way when she jumps!
So I’ll have to also provide new shoes,
A pair of boots, or some pumps.

The camel’s humps bounce and shake.
They were surely meant as a prank.
I’ll put them onto the skinny snake,
So she can no longer hide under a plank.

Ms. Turtle as always, longing for speed,
Slowly sneaks under the giraffe.
We’ll wait till he’s stretched way out to feed,
Then we’ll steal his bottom half!

The elephant packs a mighty trunk,
And she certainly carries it well,
It really belongs on the front of the skunk,
To lift his nose up over the smell.

The zebra yearns to play in the dirt,
But his clothes are much too precise.
I need to find him some old pig’s shirt,
That no longer looks very nice.

We could probably go on for an hour or two,
Making all these wrong things right.
But really, there’s way too much to do?
I don’t want to stay up all night!

Have you ever stepped off your front porch in the morning and felt something attacking your food chute? Automatically your hand slaps your face, then you see Ms Spider with that twinkle in her eye as though she had just successfully completed another goal. How on this earth did she get that web from one bush to the other, horizontally across the sidewalk? Can Spiders Fly After Dark?
Actually, spiders can’t fly either before or after dark, I read that Ms Spider depends on chance. She spins a long, thin, sticky web and waits for the wind to pin it onto something before she carefully crawls out on it and adds to it to strengthen it behind her.
That’s how writing for blogstream is. A person starts with thin threads of chance and hopes they will be blown into inviting ears. The original train of webs can then be built on to strengthen one’s readership position.
AGREE?