I visit regularly even though she insists that I leave.

I know I will find a well-written paragraph or two filled with inspiration, creative interpretation, or quick witted humor.

The words contained therein have made me laugh. The words contained therein have made me cry. The words contained therein have made me think.

Even though she really must insist you leave, please go now [link no longer available]. Please read. And listen to the words, then listen to the spirit that lives within you.


Lifting my face to catch the wisp of breeze, the scent of the next few hours wafts against my senses. I begin to wait. Anxious anticipation.

Keeping watch to the southeastern sky, I see the dance of lightning tickling the horizon. The rumble of thunder low and deep, like the hunger pangs of Sky Gods, casually tosses threats to the waiting desert.

In the distance, the odd combination of mesquite, palm and citrus trees begin a slow ballet: the adagio of movement graceful and elegant against the now darkening summer sky.

The wind breaks the stillness of the desert in the summer. The ever-consuming, totally enveloping heat ... now broken and tossed into pieces to flutter aimlessly upon the summer's breeze.

The desert floor rises up in mirth and mischief to playfully greet the wind.

The atmosphere, now replete with the acrid odor of dust, becomes a wall of brown rolling clouds. Crossing the city skies like a freight train without tracks, the rolling cloud of dirt laden air envelops all in its path.

Mother Nature's bounty, now an allegro in choreography dancing against the dust, bows to the Earth enslaved in forced adoration.

Brittle fingers of lightning now flash above me, around me and within me ... the air tingles alive with electricity feared, electricity awaited.

The skies become a roaring monster of deep rumbling thunder often accentuated with resounding reports that rattle the windows and rattle my soul.

This monsoonal monster whips its wings across the desert wreaking havoc in its wake.

But still I wait. Anxious anticipation.

... then finally ...

With the sweet tapping of a birdling sharpening its beak, the droplets of rain begin to spatter the sidewalk. Their mark, quickly consumed by the heat of the day and the dryness of the season, holds the promise of birth. In water, there is life.

The sky becomes a churning batter of clouds, thunder and lightning. And then, with the swiftness of the storm itself, the sky opens.

The scent of rain on dust fills the air with a pungency so sweet that I find myself smiling. Simply smiling. The waterdrops create fractuals in puddles illuminated by lightning. The pores that ARE the desert swell in welcoming relief for the moisture.

More droplets fall. I inhale the intoxicating mix of creosote, rainwater and mesquite blending a perfume so exquisite that perfumiers worldwide are humbled by its beauty.

It is finally raining.

Perhaps I should say, in gracious thanksgiving, it is finely raining.

- - - 2000 Jann - - -


Right Foot Redux:

Imagine if you will, stepping on a needle. It penetrates into the soft tissue of your heel only about .25 of an inch and yet, every sensation screams in sheer agony. You howl. You shudder, you wince and then you limp in response to sore tissue for days.

Now imagine actually paying someone for the experience. I did. It hurt. Actually it still hurts.

The saga continues as we, my masochistic but oh-so-attractive orthopaedic surgeon and I, await the result of injected steriods.

Needle into the foot jabbed deep to the bone. Not a *ahem* ... walk in the park.

And I get to do it again in ten days.


I am humbled in sincere gratitude.

As some of you may remember, last year I seriously injured my right foot during a powerful storm that rolled through the dusty trails that ARE metropolitan Phoenix.

Sadly, my foot has not healed correctly. Each day is a walk in severe pain and constant discomfort. Each day I promise myself that I will see the surgeon and schedule the necessary surgery.

Each day I wuss out.

Until today.

This week I was scheduled to appear at a trade conference in New Mexico which would have required more walking than I am truly prepared to endure.

After all, I made the commitment over a year ago and I did not want to disappoint those I committed to.

My spirit is willing but the body is weak!

I should be leaving at 0-dark-hundred tomorrow morning.


My associate, Charles, came to my rescue ... a hero flying in on a silver plane to stand in my stead.

His simple words, "It is just not worth hurting yourself over."

So instead of trudging through the monsoon drenched deserts of northeastern Arizona whilst driving to Albaturkey ...

... I will be visiting the surgeon.

Charles' grace under fire inspired my courage.

Thank you Charles. For the assistance. For the inspiration to make that call.

I am humbled in sincere gratitude.

. . .

9:45AM Friday. We shall see what Doc Van has to say.


My apologies for the long absence.

My off the net commitments are often both lengthy and physically taxing.

Perhaps when things slow down, we can get to know one another?

[As she turns to go to pack her suitcase, Jann offers a slow smile, a sexy wink and a sultry nod of assurance.]

*humming*... headin' to Albaturkey, Albaturkey here I come!


I sit here tonight in fear. I am worried. My stomach is churning with a foreboding feeling of dread.

I am not concerned for myself.

My fear is for the residents of Phoenix living south and east of Sky Harbor Airport. The people of south Scottsdale, Tempe, Mesa ... hundreds of thousands of residents.

Today, just after 5:PM, a major fire erupted in one of our industrial areas.

It began as a simple fire but within moments it spread via chemicals and plastic to become a raging monster four alarm blaze that now, 6.5 hours later, is still burning. The fire officials have no idea when the fire will be extinguished.

No, there is no fear of the fire spreading ... the Phoenix Fire Department has it contained. Imagine though, at one time ... the flames were 60 feet in the air and was so intense it was turning steel to molten lava.

So why the concern?

The warehouse that was consumed by flames housed plastics, PVC and plastic manufacturing chemicals.


When these plastic products are burned they emit a highly toxic range of gases including cyanide, arsenic, dioxin, and aerosolized hydrofluoric acid. These gases are deadly. If inhaled directly, death is eminent. If there is less inhalation, there are numerous affects to the biology/physiology of all living things.

The cloud of potentially toxic smoke is being reported to be one mile wide and thirty miles long. The smoke is heavy. It sits low to the ground turning the afternoon gray and later, at night ... the lights of the emergency vehicles blink in red, blue and white wrapped in the eerie halo of diffused luminance.

Earlier this evening they closed part of the airport due to poor visibility and the lack of clear data as to whether flying through the smoke would be dangerous. The airport was later opened but the news played a broadcast of a tower controller speaking to a Southwest Airlines flight giving them approval to land with the suggestion, "Hold your breath".

They have closed Interstate 10. This is a major artery running from California through Arizona to New Mexico.

And finally ... now... hours later ... the EPA, City of Phoenix and other "powers that be" finally decided to evacuate the homes, apartments, townhomes and hotels that are directly beneath the gaseous cloud.

I fear the ramifications.

How many people will wake tomorrow morning with chest pain, burning eyes, headaches, skin rash ... or worse? What about those house pets or livestock (horses and sheep are prevalent along the area) left outdoors who have no clue that the natural act of breathing may be endangering their lives?

What will be the long term affects?

They are estimating the fire to be the single most costly structural fire in Arizona history, exceeding $100 million.

I cannot help but wonder what the "true cost" will be.

Yes, tonight I sit here in fear.


WARNING: Political statement ahead.

Okay, we all know that my journal is not a blog. I attempt at all costs to refrain from linking within my entries. I instead purport my journal to be an exercise in mental foreplay expressing my creative and then again, not so creative impressions, etc.

However, today whilst reading one of my favorite bloglettes ... Swallowing Tacks [link no long available] ... I came across a wee entry that resulted in my finest "refrain from spitting Diet Coke out my nose dance" when I read Elise's interpretation of Dubyah!

You go girl!

Now, I AM a registered Republican ... perhaps due to upbringing and family influence. But can honestly say ...*fingers held in my most integrity poised Boy Scout promise* ... that I have never voted a straight Republican ticket.

I vote the candidate, their stance on issues, and how I presume they will affect the government.

I will not be so daft as to choose a government representative based on party. Party affiliations are too easily changed.

It scares me to think The Dubyah might be placed in a position of national power.

National? Hell, as Prez, he would be a wwwwooorrrrld leader. *shudders*

I am not a Texan yet I shuddered in the thought of him as "Guvner Dubyah".

But Prez? Oh my.

It will, however, make wonderful fodder for the comedians i.e. Dennis Miller, et al ... should Dubyah become ....

... ugh ...

The next "most powerful leader of the Free World".



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