Spare the air - bike to work

My childhood 3-gear, all chrome, English racer was my transportation, my Indy car, my Saber Jet, and my rocket mission to the moon and to Mars.  I rode on city streets and sidewalks, in the forest preserve, to and from school and on my own Sunday drives/rides.  It was an early taste of freedom, independence and responsibility.  It was my exercise machine, my fantasy maker and my time capsule catapult.

That bike was certainly much more than a bike.

Ya aint from these parts - are ya?

You don't look like us

You don't talk like us

You don't believe in the same god as us

 You don't lack unemployment like us

This parish aint big enough for the two of us

Hasta La Vista, baby

Sailor Jerry

I'm a sailor in the Jewish Navy, 

cuddle up a little closer,

kiss me baby

Treeness

We lost trees to the fires in Colorado and trees to the storms in West Virginia, and Maryland and trees in the floods in Florida.

We lost trees to make books and salad bowls.

We lost trees to the weight of ornaments.

We lost trees to walls and fences.

We lost too many trees.

We are but stardust and so is the Chuppah

with a purpose and a propensity to create

with the power to love

with a sense of awe and of the sacred

with a hope that we will have a positive effect on the future

two stand under their Sabbath tablecloth canopy 

and they emerge family

we are made of stardust and so is the Chuppah

Cake and Coffee

and the catching-up conversation

and the exchange of interesting ideas

and the arguements, arrangements and agreements

and the experience of a valued relationship

and have a piece of cake or a biscotti with that Jo