Escaping Vanity

In reference to anything Vegan... My understanding is that it means the consumption of anything that is the result of inclusive of animal by-products. Impossible... Why? Well, you may not consume them. But, being able to bring these items to market requires other species. https://www.foxnews.com/food-drink/vegans-burger-king-impossible-whopper-lawsuit They won't allow P3 water bottles any longer... Because packaging is bound to what we consume. Cancer causing agents in the things surrounding what will enter your body. Eating your pseudo-meat with petroleum based wrappers a.k.a. animal by-products would negate any 'vegan' nonsense you're trying to perpetrate. Doesn't exist. The minutia special class who pretends to have some affluent food source devoid of all other special ingredients are... As the band Styx would say (and I love these folks let me listen to the music of my childhood and write), "You're fooling yourself if you don't believe it ...

This letter is for the tenacious lady who runs her life like a Boss! Tackling every situation and too stubborn to ask for help That sounds oddly familiar, but very welcome. She’s got a bold smile.  Authentic as sunshine.  An allure about her sweetness that keeps her honest.  The truth tucked away like family secrets.  An eccentric demeanor never meant to hurt anyone.  Somehow, always in season no matter what time of the year.  Blooming over, over, and over again.  Her passion is a force of nature.  Something that cannot be predicted.  Consequences that cannot be avoided. She’s worn and weathered.  Though never needing beauty sleep.  She’s curvy and vivacious.  No ruler can measure her.  Delicious kisses no company could manufacture.  Swaying with every step.  Something beyond performance and choreography.  A pleasure to converse.  A mountain to climb.  For the secrets of...

Stitching by strangers… Vagabonds and transients. Quilted storytelling that consumes us in warmth. A time laden journey that writes our history. Tucked like a burrito in our winter beds. Patiently learning our craft. Executing transition seamlessly. A diet of humble pie. Fueling our service to those near. Missing meals in order to give; so that others thrive. Knowing the pattern and sewing seamlessly. Like waves of confetti; our good deeds share some string. Threads that change texture, color, and wear over time. Oft’ we are holding the flapping sails of our heart. Squares that need attention; breaking away. Lessons we learn through our live easily distinguishable. Breaks in the patterns of our comfort. Stitched over. Replacing a hole in our trust, faith, and our soul. New material to fill the void left by originals. At times these are torn away. Scars from a frayed world. Lessons learned. Decisions we try differently this round. We seek to right these wrongs with...

Two best friends don't tell each other secrets.  They don't know that though. Individually they're trusting in a wayfaring stranger. One romantically. The supporting friend is talking to do some investigating and be vigilant.  During their opposing third-party conversations secrets appear that they've held from each other. They trust in the traveler... As good folks should. But, these sprinkles of innocence have burnt. They've shared beyond with him. More than with one another. They do not trust easily. Sharing their separate talks back to one another like a war room. However, it's become clear they have deceived one another. There must be action. Cut away this new chapter. Back to the rough draft. Unkempt friendship.  Actions of ingratitude for this new revelation. Sharing only possible by way of new trust with an outsider. Yet, unclean. Baring a different scroll from the catacombs of their soul. Fresh ground never meant for the old confidant. ...

She’s unlocking the door. That wine bottle is calling her name. Its been a long day at the office. Hassles, one after another, leading her towards that kitchen counter. She takes off those earrings and kicks the heels toward the rack. Quick pace. The candle like a lighthouse beaconing her closer. Bottle in hand she’s already got a smile. No need for a glass. She gets the cork out effortlessly. Confusion sets in. She tips, turns, shakes the bottle upside down. Those hassles from work are as extra motivation. Nothing is coming out. In anger she grabs it by the neck. She swings the wine bottle down on the corner of the counter. Glass shatters. Everything falls to the floor. He runs in. Tennis shoes crunch the glass shards as he leans down grab the letter and puts a shoulder into her waist. She drapes over his back and he lifts her. Easily carrying her to the couch. Tossing her on the sofa and laying the letter on her chest. She swipes the hair from her face to say, “Thank you!” He...