...is "The Adventures of Rock and Skip: Beyond the Curb"

As the sun was beginning to set and it was nearing the end of that day, a nice young doctor walked through the parking lot to his car to go home.  When the doctor passed the spot where Rock and Skip were resting and watching cars go by, she almost stepped on Rock.  She noticed Rock and Skip in her path and worried that someone might trip over stones on the driveway.  So, she carefully, and ever so gently, nudged Rock and Skip to the side of the driveway with her foot.  Skip squealed with delight as he rolled along the pavement.  How fun to roll along under the doctor’s foot!  Then, the doctor got into her car and drove away.  Rock was relieved that he and Skip were no longer resting where someone could trip over them.  He was thankful that the doctor had moved them.

A little while later, just before it got dark outside, a family walked across the driveway.  The family was at the hospital to visit their grandma and to bring her a lovely bouquet of her favorite flowers from the flower shop.  The littlest member of the family was a boy who liked to kick rocks and stones and pebbles.  He liked to see how far he could get them to go with each kick.  He saw Rock and Skip and thought they looked like good kicking-rocks.  So, when he got near them, he let loose his best kick.  Rock and Skip took flight.  As they flew, Skip was reminded of the beautiful birds who visited him and Rock and their cousins and Boulder and Tree each day in the bed.  The birds perched on Tree’s branches and sang their melodies to the bed below.  Rock looked forward to the daily performance of their bird friends.  Skip loved to watch the birds fly.  It was such fun to fly now like his bird friends!  After Rock and Skip landed, the boy ran up to them and sent them flying once more with his best kick to date.  “Wee! I’m a bird” cried Skip.  Rock chimed in, “Oh, what fun!”

Rock and Skip bounced along the pavement and finally came to rest near the center of the alley behind the hospital.  The family was headed toward the back entrance of the hospital.  The father of the family noticed that the little boy was several yards behind them.  He called out to the boy, “Johnny, hurry up!  Grandma is waiting for us.”  The boy immediately forgot about Rock and Skip and ran to his father and took his hand.  Then, the family walked into the hospital.  Rock and Skip were left in the alley, far from their bed. 

The sun was tired from shining brightly all day long.  He dipped below the horizon, as he did at the end of every day.  Rock and Skip waved goodnight to Sun and thanked him for the warm rays he shone on them.  While Sun drifted off to sleep, the moon rose and began her turn at shedding light on the hospital.  Rock and Skip were glad to see their friend, Moon.  They greeted Moon and her cousins, the stars, with beaming smiles.  Moon and the stars twinkled back at Rock and Skip. 

Soon, Rock and Skip felt very sleepy.  They had had an eventful day.  Skip didn’t think he could stay awake much longer.  He asked Rock when the gardener would come to return them to the bed.  Rock said, “It’s late and I think the gardener went home.  He will be back in the morning when Sun wakes up.  We can sleep here in the alley tonight.”  Skip called out to their cousins and Boulder and Tree in the bed, “Goodnight, rocks and stones and pebbles and Boulder and Tree!”  Rock added, “Have a good night!  We’ll see you in the morning when the gardener comes to work and brings us back to the bed!” and he hoped the gardener would arrive early.  The rocks and stones and pebbles and Boulder and Tree told Rock and Skip that they missed them and wished them a good night in the alley.  Rock and Skip felt their eyelids get very heavy and fell asleep.  That night, they had fantastic dreams.  They dreamed of cars and wheels and of flying around the world. 

...to be continued...

...is "The Adventures of Rock and Skip: Meet Rock and Skip"

On that day, at that time, Rock and Skip were lying in a bed with their cousins, soaking up the sun.  The bed was full of hundreds of rocks and stones and pebbles – all of them were cousins of Rock and Skip.  The bed’s borders were concrete curbs, some were painted red.  The border-curbs helped keep Rock and Skip and their cousins safe within the bed.  In the center of the bed was a young tree whose branches shaded the bed during the hottest part of the day.  The shade was much appreciated by Rock and Skip and the other rocks and stones and pebbles because their bed was in Arizona, where it gets very, very hot!  Rock and Skip loved their bed!  So did their cousins!

Near the tree in the center of the bed was a small boulder.  The boulder was extra special.  It had a bronze plaque on it.  Boulder was so proud of her plaque!  She often entertained Rock and Skip and their cousins by reciting the words on the plaque.  She would say, “This plaque is dedicated to the wonderful rocks and stones and pebbles in this bed.  Their extraordinary efforts to make this hospital beautiful are much appreciated by staff and visitors.”  Rock and Skip and their cousins would cheer and beam with pride.  On the wonderful day, long, long ago, when Boulder was placed lovingly in the bed, a kind gardener said those words to her.  She repeated them to herself over and over so that she would remember them always.  She was so proud to be in the bed!  She was so proud to carry the plaque dedicated to her friends!

Rock and Skip can also remember the day they were brought to the bed.  It was not long after they were born.  They lived for awhile with their Mom and Dad in the quarry.  All that time, Mom and Dad Stone told them that, some day, they would go to live in a beautiful garden.  They couldn’t wait to show off their rocky splendor!  One day, a shovel lifted them up from the pile to take them to the bed.  Rock and Skip were both happy and sad at the same time.  They were sad to leave their Mom and Dad and grandmas and grandpas and aunts and uncles at the quarry.  But, they were also happy to go out and make the world a more beautiful place.  They told their Mom and Dad that they loved them.  Rock and Skip’s Mom and Dad said they were very proud of them and loved them too!  Then, they rode with their cousins in the back of a truck for many miles.  When Rock and Skip arrived at the hospital, the kind gardener laid them gently in the bed.  He told them they were very special.  Rock and Skip would remember that day forever!

Later, on the day of sunbathing, a hospital worker was walking near the bed.  He stepped into the bed to share the shade of the young tree.  Rock and Skip and their cousins and Boulder were so excited to have a visitor to the bed.  They all smiled and laughed and moved closer to the worker’s feet.  After a few minutes, the worker began to walk away.  Rock and Skip rolled into the path of the worker’s steps.  How wonderful to provide footing for their visitor!  All of a sudden, the worker’s feet shuffled a bit.  When they did, Rock and Skip were launched into the air.  They flew and were turned over and over in the air.  Oh, how they squealed with delight while in flight!  Then, they landed softly on the pavement next to the bed. 

“Oh!  My!  We’re out of the bed!’ cried Skip.  “Don’t worry, Skip.  We’re near the bed.  The gardener will put us back soon,” said Rock.  Rock was the big brother and was always made sure Skip felt safe.  Skip relaxed, knowing Rock would always look out for him.  He enjoyed the scenery outside of the bed.  Rock looked out on the parking lot and marveled at the big cars.  How enormous their wheels seemed!  Rock and Skip soaked up the afternoon sun.  They oohed and aahed at the giant engines of the passing cars, which they had never seen from this close before.  They passed the time by counting wheels as they waited for the gardener to return for his last rounds of the day.  Little did they know that the gardener was called away to a flower emergency at another bed and wouldn’t be back until the next day. 

...to be continued...

...is "My Technological Advancements So Far This Year"

Upgraded from flip-phone cell to Android cell.
Created gmail account and linked up calendar to cell phone.
Uploaded my first You Tube videos.
Have conversed with people from other countries via You Tube.
Uploaded a slideshow of artwork onto LinkedIn.
Reconnected with old classmates on LinkedIn.
Began texting and e-mailing more than ever.
Joined Twitter.
Started a blog.
Read books on my phone.
Do mobile banking.
Use GPS on phone instead of writing down directions.
Got a Blu-Ray DVD player.
Watch instant videos from Netflix on my TV.
Created a Pandora account and listen on laptop, phone and Blu-Ray.

What is happening to me?  I've become all "techy" and such.  Don't get me wrong, I'm kind of having fun...I'm a bit like a kid on Christmas, playing with all my new toys.  In some ways, I feel closer to alot of people in my life and I enjoy the instant gratification all this technology affords me.  But, I also wonder if I spend too much time in front of my computer and TV and on my phone, instead of outside and interacting with real people.  The next few months will be interesting.  As the newness wears off, will these changes have been a phase or will they become an integral part of my life?  Maybe there's an App to help me predict...

...is "Nap-time Dream"

Someone I knew was living in an extended stay hotel but it was more like an apartment.  There was a regular hotel next door, though.  The hotel occupied the building next door and the first floor of the building where the “apartment” was located on the second floor.  

I was visiting the apartment-dwellers for a holiday.  I was helping them with their belongings – kind of like they were packing or unpacking…we were moving their stuff around and decorating for the holiday anyway.  There were wood floors and we kept wondering if we were being too loud.  But, then, we would remember that the hotel was on the first floor and we didn’t have to worry.  My dad was there, helping the apartment-dwellers with some repairs.

There were people we knew in other units of the apartment building.  We would see them in the stairwell and visit them in their apartments.  There was a young man who was moving out on his girlfriend.  He had dozens of identical black duffel bags.  I helped him carry some of them down the stairs on my way out.

I had a deep tan on my face, arms, and legs.  It was almost like I was of another race versus a tan, except that it was not on my trunk.  I knew I had a tan and didn’t really think much of it.  While I was standing on the sidewalk and chatting with a man, he commented on it, “Oh, wow, that’s what is different! You’re really tan and that’s what’s making you look taller!”  

We ventured out into the city.  We were headed to a particular place.  When we arrived, I realized that I knew the place because I used to go there frequently when I lived in the area.  I drove into the parking lot of what I thought was a convenience store and parked the car.  When I entered the establishment, it was a diner.  I was told I had to move my car because the spot in front of the door where I had parked was special somehow.  

Then, we went to an area consisting of rows and rows of mobile homes and tents and temporary structures that were being used to house people.  We drove through the narrow dirt roads.  There were people of various races, nationalities, and social classes.  They were all over, walking to and from the different living sites.

At one point, there was a vehicle blocking the road as if it were waiting to turn into the driveway of one of the living sites.  Instead of waiting for the vehicle to move, I pulled around a car, turned and took another route.  People standing nearby raised their hands in shrugging gestures, as if to ask why I had pulled around.  My mom was with me and asked why I had done that and gave some reason why I shouldn’t have turned.  But, I kept on and made a number of turns to get back on the route.

Next, I was walking with a man through the interior of one of the larger, single-level, dormitory-style structures.  We walked down many long, narrow hallways and made many turns at t-shaped intersections of the hallways.  In my mind, I recalled my mom’s admonition to be careful, that this was a dangerous place.  The man and I arrived at a large room filled with rows of cots.  It reminded me of old pictures of hospital wards.  After a short time, I left the large room and returned back through the maze of gray, narrow hallways, thankful that I somehow remembered the way.

We drove along the city streets.  Someone mentioned a place they wanted to see and used an acronym that I can’t recall.  It was apparently a school or college of sorts.  My mom was driving.  She seemed to be familiar with the place and agreed that we should go there.  We passed a sign with the acronym on it, so I knew we were close.  From what the others were saying, there was something secretive and forbidden about the place, almost a military base quality about it.

I had expected to see students in military uniform, walking in formation, and formal Ivy League-style buildings.  Instead, we arrived at what looked like a resort or summer camp.  My mom turned the car onto a road made of grass.  There were signs that read, “No trespassing,” indicating the place was off-limits.  We drove on anyway.  I was intrigued but also curious why my mom was trespassing, which was not like her to do.

There were students all along the road, walking in small groups and standing and chatting in larger groups.  They were dressed in traditional school uniforms.  The girls wore short, pleated mini-skirts and had their shirts open a number of buttons at the top and looked quite provocative.  As we passed them, I could tell they knew we weren’t supposed to be there but liked that we were.  Some of them urged us on with subtle winks.  When I gave one group a tentative wave, a girl in the group made a serious face and narrowly shook her head at me, then winked.  At regular intervals along the road, there were black signs with white Playboy bunny emblems on them.

We passed a woman who appeared to be in her early seventies, dressed in the same fashion as the female students, and who resembled Florence Henderson.  Soon after, we were stopped by men in green khaki military-style uniforms and MP hats.  The Florence Henderson look-alike asked us what we were doing there.  She did not seem angry, just curious. 

Then, in real life, my cell phone rang and I woke up.

...is "Stuffed Animal Kitten Sings to Fonzie"

I’m a lit-tle kit-ty

Walkin’ down the street

I’m a lit-tle kit-ty

Aren’t I sweet?

I’m a lit-tle kit-ty

Strollin’ down the lane

I’m a lit-tle kit-ty

Wanna play a game?

And...we…jump and we jump and we jump

And we bounce

And we leap and we leap and we leap

And we pounce!

I’m a lit-tle kit-ty

Nippin’ at your toes

I’m a lit-tle kit-ty

Kisses on your nose!

...is "Something Fishy"

There was something fishy going down at the dog park this evening.  I was sitting in my blue, collapsible lawn chair and chatting with a pleasant lady from Poland, named Agnes, whose Cavalier had a hankering for Fonzie's backside.  A young man, probably in his mid- to late-twenties and nicely dressed in a sage green dress shirt and black dress pants, approached us.  He carried a tiny, pale tan-colored Chihuahua.  "Do you know anyone who wants a Chihuahua?" he asked. 

Huh? I'm a semi-regular at this particular dog park and I’d never seen this man before in my life.  "Who is this guy?" I thought, "And, what’s the story with the d..." Before I could even finish formulating the thought in my mind, he started to speak again.  In quite a jumbled rush of words, he told us his tale of woe and urgency.

“Blah, blah, my kid’s allergic, blah, blah, blah, has all his shots, blah, got the papers here, blah, blah, blah, about twelve weeks old, blah, blah, only a hundred bucks, blah, blah, doctor’s office, blah, blah, gotta get rid of him tonight, blah, can’t bring him into the house, blah, blah, blah, thought we’d try here first, blah, blah, just a hundred bucks, that’s practically giving him away, blah, blah, blah," he said.

A couple of blahs into this man’s story, I couldn’t help but think of the rescue dog I adopted last fall.  When I got him home and started through my door, Fonzie’s hyper-excitement scared the little Pomeranian nearly to death.  He put on the breaks and, like a greased pig, slid right out of the harness and collar he was wearing and took off to beat hell, never to be seen again.  Good job, Trace.  Rescue a dog from a perfectly comfortable and safe shelter, drive him miles and miles away, and put him out on the streets to fend for himself.  Despite this ding to my personal sense of worthiness as a pet owner and caretaker, I still harbor a desire for another dog.  I sometimes wonder if Fonzie would be a happier dog if he had a playmate.  So, for a split-second, I found myself actually considering the notion of adopting the little guy.  Fortunately, reason took over and quickly put the idea out of my mind. 

I had no connection to this man, no obligation to assist, no responsibility for the puppy.  But, I did sense a feeble urge to help in some way, if for no other reason than to prevent the puppy from being abandoned.  I ran a scan of my mental database of contacts for dog-lovers.  Some names popped up, but none of them were in the market for a new pet.  

I was about to give him the name of the shelter where I bought my ill-fated Pomeranian when he got to the part of his speech where he said, "just a hundred bucks, that’s practically giving him away."  Suddenly, I felt no further interest in this man nor his dog nor his story.  I said, "No, thank you, I can only have the one dog" and pointed to Fonzie.  The kindly Polish lady also politely declined his offer while she tried in vain to stop her dog from humping poor Fonzie.  He walked a few yards away, toward where another group of park-goers was gathered on the lawn, and I overheard him begin his pitch anew.

I resumed my chat with Agnes.  She talked about her work and the economy’s affect on her profession.  We discussed our respective degrees and educational experiences.  We shared our dogs’ histories with each other.  We chatted as people do in the park. All the while, though, I couldn’t help but keep one ear trained in the direction of the man with the Chihuahua.  

After about twenty minutes of struggling to tame her unneutered puppy’s lust for Fonzie, Agnes gave up and went home.  I went back to alternately reading H.G. Wells’ The Time Machine on my phone’s book-reading App and people- and dog-watching.  I intermittently glanced over at Chihuahua Man, who, by that time, had apparently found a taker. 

A bit later on, I noticed that Chihuahua Man’s significant other (wife...girlfriend...friend...partner...baby-mama...whatever they were to each other) had arrived sometime earlier and was standing next to him.  She was a cute, petit blond wearing denim short-shorts and a red tank top.  Chihuahua Girl drank a clear, yellowish, foamy-headed beverage from a translucent, hot-pink plastic cup and said very little to anyone other than Chihuahua Man.

Although I couldn’t put a finger on it right away, I was getting a sense of déjà vu watching Chihuahua Couple.  For about two weeks one summer while in college, I had a so-called "job" selling knock-off designer perfume and cologne.  The so-called "training" for this job consisted of a two-hour crash course in high-volume, high-pressure sales followed by a few hours of practice in the field with an experienced salesperson.  Then, we were sent out to canvas the region and sucker anyone we could into paying us cash for our wares.  It was not for me.  It was just not my style and I was no good at it.  Yet, all was not lost because the experience taught me to recognize the tactics of the modern-day traveling salesperson, the lowest of the low, the borderline scam artist.  

There was something fishy about Chihuahua Couple.  There was something fishy about their story.  There was definitely something fishy about them showing up at a dog park after dark and asking for help to find a home for their dog, but needing to do so urgently, immediately, and for the specific and seemingly non-negotiable price of $100.

I don’t know what truly happened at the dog park tonight.  It’s possible that I met a sweet couple who were forced to sell the family dog in order to protect their child’s health.  And, it’s possible that a couple of shysters preyed upon an animal-lover’s natural inclination to protect the life of an innocent animal.  Whatever the case may be, I left the park with a funny feeling in my gut and a fishy odor lingering in my nostrils.