Look at gravel, his assignment is to simply keep the mud slingers out of every shoe size that strolls along his path. Woah! Its obvious to any one of us that knows gravel, such an assignment stretches centuries past this poor little stone’s capabilities. Why, he can’t even keep the mud slinger out of one single shoe let alone try tackling boots. What if the entire stock gets booted out and the whole herd shows up, footsying their way through there in pairs from Sheplers or Dandales directly, “Do not pass go!” ?
Yet, we’re not going to catch gravel running around in a state of shock or panic, hurriedly gathering dull table knives and holey rags in an attempt to “go it alone.” Instead, he has invited the entire community of gravel to help with this task. He stopped at nothing, campaigning for help in the deepest gravel pits to the tips of the top of gravel mountain in the county dump. Gravel soon had truckloads of followers who respectfully gathered around and are supporting gravel, stretching along the path as far as the eye can see. His team literally boots out all mud slingers.
Because gravel didn’t throw up his hands immediately and admit defeat, through his efforts, he not only is able to keep the mud slinger out of one single shoe, gravel is able to keep all the mud slingers out of every single shoe that comes in pairs, to boot.
The moral of the story is that the frequency of us running with mud slingers, can be measured by the truckload.

"You get what you pay for" is true only because that's what you bought!

My blogs are meant to be a collection of bite size spurts, squeezed and metered out of creativity.
Buckets of fresh juices have been harvested from a daily discipline, through the open windows of “private time reflections.” With the wordometer circling the insides of the outer edge of this early morning cup of silent echoes, scrapings of freshness peel off the shadows of imagination and substance gingerly stacks them against the trampled edge of average. This silent commotion dutifully stirs the potential for adding power steering to creative thinking which elevates the mix about ½ step up from the average personal B to a B Sharp!
Satisfaction developes out of feeder roots leading to personal entertainment. These main arteries spritz blossom juices along slender branch to the lighter side of life.
I’ve just recently been informed that I don’t initiate my thinking but that a long train of thinking tracks through my head in a steady stream. Only when my mind’s presence recognizes its presence, is the think engine directed to enter my mind at the level of conscious. This think train supposedly occupies a powerfully small space to work in so, I’ve taken it upon myself to stay alert to other trains of thought running through my head on the same track, carrying the same point of interest.
Fueled by frequent mood changes blends a wide variety of creative think with printer’s ink. Poetry and verse dressed in creativity and marinated in a pinch of humorous truths report from this arena when paged. Digestible amounts of pickins are shoveled into the throat of a printalization blender only to be poured back under cover and lapped up, usually in about five or ten minutes!
What a playing field for developing a book! Imagination and experience would walk hand in hand in harmony through the pages of this collection.
Readers would need to be prepared for trunks of bundled surprises when “Out of the ordinarys” pop up out of their boroughs like a colony of prairie dogs!
I've discovered that fresh Imagination sprouts thrive well in the rich spoils of the unfamiliar as observed through the page-a-scope.
One of my favorite rules is to have my blogs grab non-o-things out of the debris beside the beaten path and vault them back into some form of recognition.
Satisfaction in writing this blog developed once again out of feeder roots leading to personal entertainment.
Sure hope some of you can enjoy some of the juices flowing through it with me though.

If you think your next move might be
A level ride in a slick mercury
You’d better use the right angle
Or hopes could suddenly tangle
And you’d feel like hitting a tree!

‘Cause inside a short little vial
There’ll barely be room for a smile
So, to stay out of trouble
You’ve got to keep track of the bubble
Until the vial gets put back on the pile

Story problems have always been a challenge for me so, I need help!
When we claim we’ve gone the second mile, where did it start and how long was it?
It seems to me it had to begin at least one mile back or it would always be the first mile. Here’s the problem.
Bowney, a sky jumper gets blown way off course, misses his target by exactly one mile and suddenly finds himself right in the middle of cross roads One Hundred Ninetieth and Goose-Down road. He could walk a mile back to his starting point at One Hundred Eightieth and Goose-Down or he could radio Slither, his jump instructor, who is waiting at that point of origin and ask for a ride.
Thought process to tackle and unwind
A – Bowney feels like the instructor has done so much for him already, he would just as soon walk the second mile and not bother Slither.
The way I see it, Bowney would simply be walking the first mile backwards.
B- If Bowney did ask Slither to come get him, wouldn’t Slither just be going the first mile twice?
Can we really claim that we’ve gone the second mile or are we forced to keep walking backwards to make up for the minimal forwards? Or could we just be trampling the same path to a pulp while heroically polishing our halo?