Swis'her.
Bohemia. West Tx love. Music connoisseur. Nature. Le Volta. Sex. Smoking. Clothing. Mile high heels. The good life. Minimalist. The gist of my posts & interests.
#1 in my series “safety first”
have a safeword! come on, it’s fun!
yay safewords! and hand signals too!
This Landsat image of 3 October 2011 shows the Mississippi River Delta, where the largest river in the United States empties into the Gulf of Mexico.
In this false-colour image, land vegetation appears pink, while the sediment in the surrounding waters are bright blue and green. The delta is known as the ‘bird-foot’ delta because of the shape created by the channels extending outward.The size of the Mississippi River Delta built over millions of years owing to sediment deposition. The tons of sediment carried by the river system created the wetlands in southern Louisiana, which are home to many endangered species and help to protect the mainland from hurricane winds by acting like speed bumps.
Over the last several decades, however, the delta’s sediment load has been drastically reduced by natural and man-made factors. Extensive oil and gas extraction causes the subsidence of the delta and wetlands, and rising sea levels increase erosion as the fresh water vegetation dies due to the influx of salt water.
Currently, a chunk of land the size of a football field is lost about every half an hour.
My video of Jim crowd surfing and jumping into us at Neon Desert.
Magic abounds in the desert, I can assure you that. Although this man knows our faces, seeing him perform is always an amazing experience. I can never be more proud of my city than I am now.
I’d love to meet you & shake your hand. I know there’s a lot of brilliant people on this site from town that I’d love to meet because I don’t come on here as I used to!
Keep that beauty alive!
| people: | you have to be more lady like |
| me: | suck my dick |
‘You’re loud. You don’t fall into the closeminded latina mentality and society of this city. You don’t take shit from anyone, you’re a feminist, you listen to awesome music, you dress badass, you stand up for yourself and you have this ‘Fuck You’ attitude which is why I like you. You know you don’t need a man to survive and to take care of and be expected to take care of children and be in the kitchen at the end of the day. That is why they don’t understand you. Plus you’re very stubborn.’
- What Estrada said to me in a nutshell today. There is no way I can express my gratitude towards this individual after today. Made me feel like the million bucks I should have felt like all along.
They told me the big black Lab’s name was Reggie, as I looked at him lying in his pen. The shelter was clean, no-kill, and the people really friendly. I’d only been in the area for six months, but everywhere I went in the small college town, people were welcoming and open. Everyone waves when you pass them on the street.
But something was still missing as I attempted to settle in to my new life here, and I thought a dog couldn’t hurt. Give me someone to talk to. And I had just seen Reggie’s advertisement on the local news. The shelter said they had received numerous calls right after, but they said the people who had come down to see him just didn’t look like “Lab people,” whatever that meant. They must’ve thought I did.
But at first, I thought the shelter had misjudged me in giving me Reggie and his things, which consisted of a dog pad, bag of toys almost all of which were brand new tennis balls, his dishes and a sealed letter from his previous owner.
See, Reggie and I didn’t really hit it off when we got home. We struggled for two weeks (which is how long the shelter told me to give him to adjust to his new home). Maybe it was the fact that I was trying to adjust, too.
Maybe we were too much alike.
I saw the sealed envelope. I had completely forgotten about that. “Okay, Reggie,” I said out loud, “let’s see if your previous owner has any advice.”
____________ _________ _________ _________
To Whomever Gets My Dog:
Well, I can’t say that I’m happy you’re reading this, a letter I told the shelter could only be opened by Reggie’s new owner. I’m not even happy writing it. He knew something was different.
So let me tell you about my Lab in the hopes that it will help you bond with him and he with you.
First, he loves tennis balls. The more the merrier. Sometimes I think he’s part squirrel, the way he hoards them. He usually always has two in his mouth, and he tries to get a third in there. Hasn’t done it yet. Doesn’t
matter where you throw them, he’ll bound after them, so be careful. Don’t do it by any roads.
Next, commands. Reggie knows the obvious ones —-“sit,” “stay,” “come,” “heel.”
He knows hand signals, too: He knows “ball” and “food” and “bone” and “treat” like nobody’s business.
Feeding schedule: twice a day, regular store-bought stuff; the shelter has the brand.
He’s up on his shots. Be forewarned: Reggie hates the vet. Good luck getting him in the car. I don’t know how he knows when it’s time to go to the vet, but he knows.
Finally, give him some time. It’s only been Reggie and me for his whole life. He’s gone everywhere with me, so please include him on your daily car rides if you can. He sits well in the backseat, and he doesn’t bark or complain. He just loves to be around people, and me most especially.
And that’s why I need to share one more bit of info with you…His name’s not Reggie. He’s a smart dog, he’ll get used to it and will respond to it, of that I have no doubt. But I just couldn’t bear to give them his real name. But if someone is reading this … well it means that his new owner should know his real name. His real name is “Tank.” Because, that is what I drive.
I told the shelter that they couldn’t make “Reggie” available for adoption until they received word from my company commander. You see, my parents are gone, I have no siblings, no one I could’ve left Tank with .. and it was my only real request of the Army upon my deployment to Iraq, that they make one phone call to the shelter … in the “event” … to tell them that Tank could be put up for adoption. Luckily, my CO is a dog-guy, too, and he knew where my platoon was headed. He said he’d do it personally. And if you’re reading this, then he made good on his word.
Tank has been my family for the last six years, almost as long as the Army has been my family. And now I hope and pray that you make him part of your family, too, and that he will adjust and come to love you the same way he
loved me.
If I have to give up Tank to keep those terrible people from coming to the US I am glad to have done so. He is my example of service and of love. I hope I honored him by my service to my country and comrades.
All right, that’s enough. I deploy this evening and have to drop this letter off at the shelter. Maybe I’ll peek in on him and see if he finally got that third tennis ball in his mouth.
Good luck with Tank. Give him a good home, and give him an extra kiss goodnight - every night - from me.
Thank you,
Paul Mallory
____________ _________ _________ _______
I folded the letter and slipped it back in the envelope. Sure, I had heard of Paul Mallory, everyone in town knew him, even new people like me. Local kid, killed in Iraq a few months ago and posthumously earning the Silver
Star when he gave his life to save three buddies. Flags had been at half-mast all summer.
I leaned forward in my chair and rested my elbows on my knees, staring at the dog.
“Hey, Tank,” I said quietly.
The dog’s head whipped up, his ears cocked and his eyes bright.
“C’mere boy.”
He was instantly on his feet, his nails clicking on the hardwood floor. He sat in front of me, his head tilted, searching for the name he hadn’t heard in months. “Tank,” I whispered.
His tail swished.
I kept whispering his name, over and over, and each time, his ears lowered, his eyes softened, and his posture relaxed as a wave of contentment just seemed to flood him. I stroked his ears, rubbed his shoulders, buried my
face into his scruff and hugged him.
“It’s me now, Tank, just you and me. Your old pal gave you to me.” Tank reached up and licked my cheek.
“So whatdaya say we play some ball?” His ears perked again.
“Yeah? Ball? You like that? Ball?”
Tank tore from my hands and disappeared into the next room. And when he came back, he had three tennis balls in his mouth.”
(Source: stephaniekilbury, via sierbear)
but it makes me feel things. And I’d rather just do then think, just at this point in my life. I was considering starting up a nature blog, but c’mon…
Just a point, I hate feelings right now. So much. I’m exhausted of fighting tooth and nail with an administration that consists of pigs and cowards that have smeared the image of a credible school in this town. I’d really like to throw this 5 gallon bucket of dirty fish tank water at a few choice persons. I’d really like to have the money to set out & travel my neighboring state to find some peace before starting out this new phase in life. I feel like I need a good cry against a ponderosa pine, at least for a few minutes.
It’s a p r e s s u r e cooking scenario!
Follow Up.
Recently I received a letter from the geology department at my university which I’ve received every spring for the past handful of years. Ten students are chosen to travel to a designated area in the U.S to study geology, environmental & sociological perspectives - all expenses paid, including a nice stipend. This year, the department is planning to travel to Yellowstone National Park and northern Utah. If any of you have been paying attention, Yellowstone is one of my top mecca’s on this gorgeous blue marble. I simply ask for you to send all your good karma & prayers that somehow I may get a spot into this program again this June. I’m ready to run into the wild again.
