A few days ago our daughter and son-in-law moved in with us here at the Ponderosa for a month or two. Along with them and our grandaughter, came the rest of the family; a couple've cats and a dog. I was okay with the cats,  figuring it was up to them to acquaint themselves sufficiently with our dogs, DeeDee and Sasha. It was the dog they wanted to bring along that got my attention. Emma is a female pit bull. I know full well that there are  A LOT of really cool pit bulls running around, but I do have a REAL protective instinct for everything and everyone here at the Ponderosa.
    I agreed to let Emma stay for a day or two, but insisted she be gone by the week-end. (Emma stayed in the studio during the week, never so much as barking loudly enough to be detected. I was, I think, mildly impressed.)
    Saturday morning came 'round and I wandered out onto the backporch with my first cup of tea for the day. Half asleep and not yet fully cognizant, I glanced over toward the studio front door and there was Emma, lying in the sun. She saw me, stood up and ran over to me, tail wagging all the way, as if to say "Hi! My name's Emma!" She stood in front of me for a minute, fidgeting from foot to foot. I kneeled down and scratched her ears; she responded with a couple've sloppy kisses.
    Chey came out, smiling slightly. "Well", she said. "I see you've met Emma."
    "Yup, I sure have. She's quite the dog."
    There was a trace of sadness in Chey's eyes. "Ya know, the kids have tried all week to find Emma a home, but no one wants her. The only place left is the pound."
    The news hit me like a brick on the head. "Damn, babe. That's a death sentence for sure. No one's gonna take a . . ." My voice trailed off and I suddenly realized how terrible the consequences can be when we blame an entire breed for the actions of a few.
    Emma's still here at the Ponderosa, making friends with her new dog and cat pals and having fun running through the trees, playing fetch and basking in the sun. It must be like a little slice of heaven for her.
    James and Merri explained that Emma spent life before they adopted her, being left alone for long periods of time in a Ford truck and beaten if she made too much noise. Sometimes she was beaten for no particular reason, other than somehow she'd inadvertently pissed off her owner.
    Despite all that happened to her, she's still an affectionate, playful dog that, like most dogs and other critters, loves unconditionally.
    Instead of teaching our dogs all manner of tricks; roll over, sit down, sit up, shake hands and fetch, maybe we could let them teach us how to do something: Love unconditionally.

Love is like an ocean
Some never venture past the shore
Frozen with galvanizing fear
Screams of ecstacy they’ll never hear.

Love is like an ocean
Some choose to wade in shallow water
They let the water touch them slightly
Tears of sadness falling all around
A life devoid of sight and sound.

Love is like an ocean
Maps, sextant and compass
Driven by a strong sense of detail
Hopes and dreams on a magical scale.

Love is like an ocean
Eyes smiling and new
Sailing is just what we do.

Love is like an ocean.
Riding together on high seas
A sensual moonlight breeze

Love is like an ocean
A lover’s longing deep inside.
A gentle push and pull
Swells riding a warm and passionate tide.

Love is like an ocean.
Emotion ebbs and flows
Crests of pleasure 
Valleys deep and low.

Love is like an ocean.
My soulmate standing next to me
Setting sail for the mysteries
That only she and I will ever see.

It's been a six-night-a-week gig at the foundry for the past couple've months and then there's been plenty of early spring stuff to take care of . . . all of which has left me little time to write . . . so I'll just leave ya with a couple've funky tunes, one an old Crusaders tune that plays in my head when I least expect it. Enjoy the funk and enjoy another spring day as we slip-slide along toward another peaceful, easy summer.

    Sweat dripped off my jawline and splashed onto the keys. I saw but it was only illusion. Or was it? I was lost in the music. My fingers flew across the keys. It was as if I were one with my music. I was. I glanced at Jerry and nodded. His guitar riffs caught the waves of my solo and launched us higher and higher. The thunderous thump of the bass notes blasted through my consciousness as the staccato rhythm of the drums commanded my every move.
    Somewhere through the smokey haze and stage lighting, I saw her. Sensuous brown eyes that bored into the center of my essence. She smiled slightly as she stood watching. Her body, taut and firm seemed to pulse with raw passion. I could feel her touch me with her mind, her smile and her eyes. 
    I consumed her strength. I was drowning in the scent of her. Her every movement drove me deeper. We were drawn together like shades of burgundy and brown. Louie’s mouth harp shrieked and squealed, answering the call of the chords I was playing. A tenor sax solo slowly descended like a gorgeous circus performer swinging on a trapeze high above.
      She moved slowly closer, nearer to the stage. Her seductive smile sent a shiver down my spine. I closed my eyes, feeling her lips gently brush my consciousness. I made a silent wish. If only she were mine and mine alone. A sensation swept over me. I felt my soul drawn into a vortex  of unknown proportion. I drew a deep breath and opened my eyes.
    Fear and disbelief slammed into me like a meteor through earth’s atmosphere. The hands I saw on the keyboard were small and petite. My well-worn leather boots were replaced with shiny, black stilletto heels. The legs and arms weren’t mine.  My body was smaller;  lithe and firm.
    A silent scream burst from my throat. I had become the sexual fantasy standing right in front of me. Illusion? Or just another soul lost in a spacial rift of time and space, served hot or cold aboard that mystical, magical conveyance . . . . . known as the Hitchcock Railway.

    Back when Mrs. Morgan and I were first together, she worked as a waitress at a funky little bar and restaurant named the Two X Six. The place had a diverse mix of employees, all who I soon came to consider my good friends. One of them was an attractive brunette with flashing brown eyes and a personality as wacky as a wooden clock. Her name was Sally. She was a damn fine bartender and everyone who knew her loved the dickens out've her. (Some literally.)
    Sally lived life at a full-tilt boogie. She also had a heart condition that nearly killed her more than once. But she was a survivor and lived every day like it was her last. She mostly ignored her doctor's insistence regarding her health. She could drink more booze than most guys in the bar, smoked a pack or two of cigarettes every day and partied like there was no tomorrow.
    I'd hang out in the bar some nights, waiting for Chey to finish her shift and I'd pass the time sharing bullshit stories and laughs with Sally. I soon discovered she'd believe just about anything she heard. It was more than I could resist and I'd tell her some outlandish story about my experiences on the road, (some of which was patently untrue). She'd finally wrinkle up her nose, wag her finger at me and cuss me out, realizing she'd been had . . . . again.
    One sunny, summer afternoon I rambled into the bar, waiting for Chey to finish her shift and Sally began telling me how the phones had been malfunctioning for the past week. The phone company had been out several times to repair them, but she wasn't convinced they were working right.
    Somewhere during the conversation the seeds of a delightful prank began to germinate in my head. I reassured Sally that the phone company would surely fix the problem if they hadn't already. Much to my surprise, not long after, a phone repairman showed up. It was, he explained, a follow-up to check on the lines. Sally disappeared with the repairman in tow as she showed him the location of all the phones in the establishment. There were a number of them scattered through the bar, restaurant and office.
    I waited until Sally returned, ordered another drink and sat patiently waiting for the phone technician to leave. Not long after he finished and left I mentioned to Sally that I had to leave, but that I'd be back in awhile.
    I walked outside, smoked a couple've cigarettes and then snuck back in, stopping near a pay phone in the lobby. I dialed the bar's number and sure enough, Sally answered the phone.
    "Two X Six", I heard her say, "can I help you?"
    Speaking with my best southern drawl I responded. "Yes ma'am. This's Andy with the phone company. My records show you've been having some difficulty with your phones?"
    "Yes!" She responded. "A phone guy just left. I sure hope you've got everything fixed. This's driving me nuts!"
    "I do understand ma'am and I apologize for the difficulty.  I think we've got everything taken care of, but we need to complete one last procedure."
    There was a pause before Sally responded. "Yea? What d'ya gotta do?"
    Well ma'am, your phone system is quite aged and my tests indicate a considerable build-up of dust in the phone lines. I need to blow them all out and then I'm dead-bang sure we'll have it all fixed."
    "What? I've never heard of that before."
    "I understand ma'am. It's just that your phone lines are real old and dust is a common problem with old phone lines."
    "Well . . . okay . . . . I guess you've gotta do what you gotta do."
    "Yes ma'am. That's why I'm calling. What I need you to do is cover all the phones with damp bar towels. Can you do that for me?"
    There was a long pause on the phone. "Cover the phones? I've never heard of doing that before."
    "It's real important for you to do that ma'am. You don't want dust blowing all over the place do ya? Once I pump air into the lines the dust'll blow all over the place if the phones aren't covered."
    "Oh shit! Okay. How much time do I have?"
    "Tell ya what, I'll just hold up about ten minutes. Will that be enough time for ya?"
    "Yea! That'll work. I'll be ready."
    "Thank you ma'am. I really do appreciate your help and I apologize for the inconvenience."
    Sally hung up without saying good-by and ran down the bar grabbing towels as she went. She gathered up a handful and threw them in the sink, carefully dampening each one. I peeked through the window, watching as Sally carefully covered each phone. Then I heard Mel down at the end of the bar. "What the HELL are you doin' Sally?"
    Sally just shook her head. "I don't have time to explain Mel. The phone company's gettin' ready to blow out the lines and I've gotta get these god damn phones covered up!"
    Mel gave her a skeptical glance. "Say what?"
    "The phone lines have a bunch of dust in 'em . . . . aw shit, Mel. I'll tell ya later. I'm busy!"
    I slipped into the bar and sat down next to Mel. "Hey! What's Sally doin' with the bar rags?"
    Mel shook his head in disbelief. "Damned if I know. She said somethin' about dust in the phone lines."
    "Dust in the phone lines? Huh! Is she high?" I was careful to appear appropriately incredulous.
    A few minutes later Sally reappeared, struggling to catch her breath. I gave her a quizzical stare. "What're ya breathe'n so hard for Sally?"
    "I've been running all over the place. I had to cover up the phones."
    "I see that. You wanna tell me why?"
    She pursed her lips and frowned. "I don't want dust blowin' all over the place!"
    "Okay . . . . . and . . . . what's that got to do with the phones?"
    "Hell if I know. Some guy from the phone company called and said they need to blow the dust outa the phone lines and I should cover'm up so the dust doesn't blow all over."
    "Oh . . . well . . . okay. Looks like you got the situation covered then"
    Sally's eyes widened. "Okay Mr. Smartass! What would you have done, let the dust blow all over the place?"
    I couldn't keep a straight face any longer. "Let me guess. Was the guy that called named Andy?"
    Sally shot me a surprised glance. "How'd you . . . . oh . . . you! You asshole! That was YOU???"
    "I didn't say that. Maybe I'm just clairvoyant."
    "Well if your so clairvoyant let me see if you know what I'm gonna do next, Mr. AT&T!
    With that she poured a glass of ice water right onto my lap. I can't say I didn't deserve it.