Ah! You must forgive me. I got so caught up in Wal-Mart that I totally forgot to post this picture. I think it is one of the cooler things Roswell has to offer in the way of Alien propaganda. I don’t think anything I see in Roswell surprises me anymore. I bet you a real, honest to God Alien could go walking down the street and I wouldn’t even blink an eye. Maybe that is what they want . . . Creepy. I am almost taken aback that they haven’t built an Alien or UFO high school, but if you give them long enough, I wouldn’t put it past them.

Have you ever noticed that things, whether they are good or bad happen in threes. People die in threes. Especially famous people. Wishes, if granted by a sane genie, are of the three variety. Movies more and more these days seem to be made into trilogies. That the third time is a charm – whether it is getting a lighter lit, fixing something that is broken, or getting the car started in a very bad situation.

Three seemed to be the right number for these little candles that I found on my brother’s new coffee table. Very Martha Stewart-y.

I think they represent – See no Flame, Hear no Flame, and Speak no Flame.

What do you think?

A woman needs comments, people. So comment. Comment away.

And I mean that in the nicest way possible.

Wal-Mart has taken this Alien Crash of 1947 a little far, I think. You can’t even go inside the doors without having an Alien jump out at you with the weekly sales circular clinched in his fist. I’m just kidding about that, but I bet you if I suggested the Wal-Mart greeter be an Alien, they would undoubtedly make it happen. Let’s glance at a few other pictures I took on my visit to the great Wally World.

That is just a close up of the last pictures, but in order to fully appreciate the art work, you have to get up close and personal to it. I wonder how long it will be before it begins to chip away and if they will continue to keep it looking nice or let it go. Since Aliens are the only reason anyone of a sound mind comes to Roswell, I imagine that they will keep it up for the sake of tourists. And I also wondered who got paid to paint Aliens all over Wal-Mart. What a great job.

The exit sign
picture is rather awful,
but I was walking by it and didn’t feel like stopping to line everything up. So, I’m lazy. Sue me.

I really believe that behind this wall mural of a mother ship is the remains of the UFO crash that occurred in 1947. I mean, who would really look behind a brick mural for clues. That only happens in movies, right? By saying that, I do not recommend that you go chisel away to find out whether my brilliant idea is true or not. I don’t want anyone going to jail on my account. I would simply never forgive myself or sleep well.

You know, after seeing all these paintings on Wal-Mart, I am a bit jealous. I mean, the only thing my Wal-Mart has written on it is – We Sell For Less, Deli, Produce and some other words that I never really pay attention to. Too bad nothing cool has happened in Columbia. I guess I could suggest a mural of me . . . I’m just kidding . . . really, I am. The bricks that make up Wal-Mart might all jump off and run away if that were to happen.

Here is an old picture for you.

I was going through my Dad’s pictures on his computer looking for some blogging material since I have used almost all of the good ones from my collection of photographs. It is amazing what you can find out about your parent’s lives by going through their old slides. I had never known that my Dad had ever been in the presence of Johnny Cash, let alone close enough to take a pretty good picture of the man. Apparently, Mr. Cash came to Sheppard AFB where my Dad was stationed. Here is the kicker, though. Mr. Cash was being more than nice and giving his adoring fans his autograph. But did my Dad get one? No. Did he at least ask? No. At least my Dad says he doesn’t remember getting his autograph and if he did, God only knows where in the world it went. It is enough to make you hit your head on a wooden table.

I don’t believe I have ever been in the presence of someone famous. But I know if were to be, the first thing, well maybe at least the second thing I do would be to ask – May I please have your autograph!!?? The first thing would be something along the lines of – I love your work. Fans can be such idiots sometime.

My Dad did something similar in the year 1974. My Dad was working for the radio station WKEU in Griffin, GA when Hank Aaron hit his 715th home run. Because my Dad was working for this radio station he was allowed to be at the press conference after the game. Well, if my Dad took pictures of that evening, I have never seen them, and once again, even though he was practically on the first row, he didn’t get his autograph(“They wouldn’t let anyone near him!! My Dad protests.) But he did happen to record the press conference, and that’s pretty cool. But an autograph would have been awesome. Again, it makes you want to hit your head on a wooden table. Really, really hard.

There has been a change of plans. Phil and I are no longer going to the coastal city of Taizhou to teach English. And I am sorta glad because there is a pretty nasty typhoon named Saomai inching its way toward Taizhou and some other coastal cities as I write this. At last check, under our standards, it was a catergory 5. Eeek! At least now we will be a little more inland and won’t be completely drowned when and if a Typhoon comes are way. We have been relocated to Fuyang, a suburb of Hangzhou, the capital of the Zhejiang Province. Although, there is a river that runs right by Fuyang, and I imagine if it rains a whole lot – I may end up floating home. Let’s hope that doesn’t happen. Cause that would be bad. I guess the threat of Malaria is the same. Damn mosquitoes. They are every where! The school that we will be teaching at has an elementary, middle, and high school. We won’t find out what grade level we will be teaching until we get there. I am sorta hoping for the younger kids. Who knows though, they may be the worst of the bunch, but I guess one way or another, we will find out. The name of the school is Fuyang High School Zhejiang (浙江富阳中学), and if you want you can go to their website and try to figure out what all the Chinese characters mean, be my guest. You can also go to www.altavista.com and have it translated, but it doesn’t do that great of a job. I am not a 100% sure that it is right, but I think this may be our school’s website – www.fyms.net I guess I will find out for sure once we get there. Well, that is all I really know at the present. As I learn more things about where I am going – I will post the information. And once I get there – there will be pictures galore!!

A lot of people say that if they could be a bird, they would be a Hawk, an Eagle, or maybe even an Owl, but if I could choose, I would be a Hummingbird. They are a very interesting species. Very beautiful and delicate. I just wish it was easier to get a picture of them, but because they are very skittish and faster than a speeding bullet, they make it rather hard. If you have ever seen one, I am sure you know what I mean.

So, that leaves me settling with pictures like the one you see to your right. And I guess until I get one super awesome hi-tech camera or figure out how to rig mine in a place where they can’t see it – pictures like that one will have to do.

They are very curious little birds. When I stand by the window sometimes, one will buzz down to check me out, and then buzz away. They make me laugh when they fight over a feeder that could easily feed a legion of Hummingbirds and remind me of cats when they do. They always seem to hate one another, but there seems to never be a shortage of a new generation. Thinking about it, I guess humans are no different – we just happen to rule the world.

There are many eyes peering up to the night sky looking for a glimpse of the Truth. The truth that aliens do indeed exist. According to the once very popular tv show, The X-Files, The Truth Is Out There. That is what it said in the opening credits of each show. And who could forget the famous poster that Agent Mulder hung on his office wall. Believe it said. Believe. Believe. Believe. Well, I have two things to tell you. The truth is out there and you should definitely believe.

I, Maniac Gone Awry, have proof. Not only do I know that they exist, but I know who brought them here. I know where they work. And I know where they live. Ok, alright, I don’t know where they live, but I’m sure with out much research I could figure that out, too. And I am even more sure that you would be shocked to discover that you live next to one. But if you like, I won’t tell you if you are.

My first item of proof is this picture. Aliens are acrobatic creatures.

My second item of proof is this picture. It seems they like to frequent the bus stop.

My third order of business: They have craftily created their own coffee shop. It is just a scheme to take over our minds! No American can resist coffee.

The brainwashing coffee has paid off. They’ve even convinced McDonald’s to shape themselves like the mother ship that dropped them off. It even glows red at night.

Another picture that proves aliens are among us. They think this is funny – making the street lights look like them.

And now for the biggest surprise of the century. I can tell you who employs these pesky little aliens. Who would have thunk it? Well, there you are. The Truth. Pictures don’t lie ladies and gentlemen. If you don’t believe me you can come visit the Land of Enchantment. All you have to do is go to the middle of nowhere – Roswell. And if you don’t come for a visit – they just may come visit you. They are always looking for new abductees!

What makes a weed a weed and a flower a flower?

I thought that question as I walked through a barren field today. The ground was dry and cracked even though it had rained more in the previous days than it had in the last six months. The West’s ground always looks that way. It’s always thirsty. Always wanting more.

This field was barren in the sense of what humans think barren. There was no edible fruit. No plants that you would like to have in your backyard. There was plenty of cacti defending their plots of life with their menacing thorns. And there were ants. Bigger ants than most people on the East coast will probably ever see. Ants with pinchers that look like fangs of death. I imagine a colony of those ants could cart away a small dog or child.

And there were also . . . I am still debating what to call it. They are flowers to me, but the rest of Earth’s population would most likely call them weeds. Their purpose is the same as any blossom. Bees do not discriminate. They get pollinated regardless. But we pluck them and kill them. Is it because they are small or because they offended someone important somewhere? Or is there another story just as crazy that I have not heard? I do not know, but they are still pretty to me. And that is why I take their pictures. Because they deserve their recognition. God made them, too.

I tried to conduct an interview with the bee you can find in the picture to your left, but all I could hear or make out was, “Pollen. Pollen. Pollen. Got to get more pollen.” Over and over that is what I heard. He repeated this as he flew from one blossom to another sometimes landing on blossoms he had already been to. “Pollen! Pollen! Pollen! Where is the pollen?!” He would buzz. I tried to interrupt him to tell him which blossoms where the most profitable, but he wouldn’t listen. He was head strong and distracted. I was the last thing he wanted to pay any attention to. When I got my camera close enough to him to snap his picture, he buzzed over and landed on my lens. “Pollen. Pollen. Pollen. Are you pollen?” He buzzed. “No,” I said. “I am not pollen.” And then he buzzed away and landed on another blossom. I snapped his picture, and went on with my day.

One of the things I will reminisce about no matter where I am, will be the western sky as the sun sets. Some people don’t understand how the sky changes depending on where you are. And you can’t truly comprehend it unless you’ve seen its radiance and glory.

The picture that I have provided was taken by my Father. The picture is pretty, but no picture could paint how beautiful it was when it existed for those short minutes in the New Mexico sky. It looks as if the sky itself caught aflame. Maybe it did. Maybe that is why it looked so beautiful that day.