“Face-Down, Frog Modified”.

“And, Always Watch the Horizon, Okay?

On a super funny note:

If you have ever been skydiving, then you’ll know how true to life this clip is in regard to instruction…and if you don’t skydive – now ya know just about as much as those of us that do! :-)”

Ninety (Plus) Seconds at Terminal Velocity.

Classic "Frog".

“Okay, so you’re gonna be all the way down here (draws a line straight downward) but you’re gonna be looking up here (draws another diagonal line upwards across whiteboard) and you’re just gonna wanna go this way over here, land over here (yet – one more downward arrow) – but you don’t wanna do that, don’t do that. No matter what you do, don’t do that.”


 I want it all…
Not just a little bit of whatever you think you are;
I want every tragic memory, every victory, and every scar;
I want only whispers in between where I am and where you are…
I want you to leave your boot prints on the floorboard of my car,
I want it all.
I give my all…
Never once need to question anymore, once I was yours;
Anyone who knows me knows I’m different from before;
You’re trying to dip a pinky finger in my snow then walk out my door…
You’re a big boy; you’re grown, but when you leave me just KNOW:
That when you try for these thighs, that door won’t open anymore.
I gave my all.

Invisible Lineup.

IMG_3180Creepy Fog…and Sharky, too.


I’ve been spending lots of time thinking in the sand – my brain, far away in the clouds of somebody else’s problems; my life, busy turning itself upside down and inside out on the sidelines of my thoughts.

As I sit in the cushiony filth of time’s tiny granules on the Pacific shore, scanning the horizon for movement, listening to children’s screams of delight billowing atop the wind-snapped warmth that envelope me there; I remember the times when I was here with my own problems, with my own child…I remember that I am my own human being still, despite how detached I have become to that notion.


I have been reminded of the forces that swell within nature; I have been jerked back to the reality that swims alongside of the surfboard’s shadow cast in the water below my strokes and paddles of fury towards the swells; I have been force-fed the remnants of a long-abandoned vessel out there in the deeps; I have been returned.

Where in the madness does the answer begin to appear?

Perhaps the truth is that, after all, we have simply been holding one another up long enough to fight another day, to kick one more good paddle out towards the fog, to survive just a little more somehow. I have been surviving this way, through the forceful shoves from behind to keep on moving ahead, don’t look back just walk.