Dreams


 

 

 

Pig Writes

 

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Dreams

 

It has been awhile since my last real dream.

I’m not talking about the kind you have when you sleep.

Those you have no control over.

 

I’m talking about the dreams for the future.

The dreams of what you desire for your life.

The ones you want your life to become.

 

I feel like I have lost mine.

I know they are not gone.

It just seems I lost direction in making mine come true.

For now I feel like a car stuck in the mud.

No traction – just spinning in the slick.

 

Have you ever felt that way?

 

What have you done to get them back?

 

It’s funny how we always know what we want.

Achieving those dreams is never easy.

Only we are the master of our own future.

 

A new car or bigger house.

A shining new Harley.

A harem of hot women with no commitment issues.

Or maybe it’s a dream of financial security.

 

My dreams are my drive.

They motivate me to do better with my life.

They push me to achieve them.

 

I have to get them back.

 

What do your dreams do for you?

 

Drop me a comment of what your dreams do for you.  I would love to hear them and any suggestions you may have in helping me find my dreams.

 

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Another Christmas Story The Conclusion


 

Pig Writes:

Damm Cats, look at what they did!

Later that night Christmas Eve, we sat by the fire sipping on some Christmas cheer.

I felt depressed and let down for the old craftsman.

I felt an empty hole deep inside of me.

But then my old friend spoke up and said “There is more to Christmas than just presents, Pig. I knew before I even took that toy box over there she wouldn’t like it.”

Then why did you do it? Why go through all that trouble and expense?

A smile came across his face, one that warmed the room. I could feel peace in the air. “I learned a long, long time ago you came never outgive the greatest gift ever given” he said.

Christmas is not about presents, or trees, lights and decorations. Christmas is about the one present God gave each of us, His son, Jesus Christ. That is the greatest gift ever given.

It says in John 3:16 For God so loved the world that he gave his only son for those who believe in Him will have everlasting life.

That woman has spent her whole life busy trying to keep up with the Jones. She has lost any clue as to what Christmas is all about.

I built that toy box for my nephew, not for her. What she wanted was a high dollar piece of furniture to make her house look good. But it was not for her.

A hand made present has more meaning than any store bought present ever could. It means that you care enough about that person to spend time doing something nice for them.

I have received lots of Christmas presents through the years. Right now I cannot remember but only a few of them. But what I do remember is the Christmas gatherings and time I spent with family and friends. That means more to me than any present ever could.

Christmas is about our love for one another. It’s not about all that psycho baloney “Oh, I didn’t get the G.I. Joe with the kung foo grip for Christmas and now I am scarred for life and it’s all your fault”.

There was a pause as we both took a good long drag off of our Christmas cheer.

Then he said, “Pig, I want to learn to live your life by three little words.”

OK, hit me.”

Live, Laugh, Love” he said to me.

Live your life to the fullest each day as if it was your last.

Laugh with all of your might at everything funny.

Love with all your heart and all your soul.

There was another pause as I soaked in the words he had just spoken to me.

I looked at him and he smiled back at me. “Does this mean you won’t like my Christmas present to you?”

What did you buy me Pig?”

A six pack of beer.”

Well then break it out and we’ll share it together my little pink friend” he said with a boisterous laugh as he gave me a hug. I have to admit, sitting by the fire with my best friend just talking and laughing. Well, that beer tasted pretty darn good to me.

Merry Christmas Everybody

Ride HARD or Stay Home

Pig

 

Another Christmas Story Part Three


Pig Writes

The bike is ready to go

The bike is ready to go

You know that if I screw this up – you will be the one who will have Hell to pay”, the craftsman informed his wife.

It was decided to forgo the stars and stain on the toy box. It would look much better painted.

Over the next few days the craftsman toiled with wood putty and sandpaper.

The final product was smooth and soft to the touch.

Touching the wood with my fingers I could feel the love and devotion hard work makes.

Finally painted and finished the toy box looked good. It looked professional.

Only the person who crafted this work of art knew where his flaws were.

Yet one lingering question remained.

Would the toy box be good enough for the sister in law.

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Christmas Eve had come. It was time to load the toy box in the sled and deliver it to the nephew.

Before the man and has wife could pull away I sneaked into the back of the truck. I wanted to see what the reactions would be. I wanted to see for myself what I had hoped would be a miracle.

The craftsman was on his way to meet his nephew. He would hold him in his arms for the first time. He would be able to show his nephew what he built for him.

In the driveway of the sister in law house, the craftsman unloaded the toy box from the truck. It was placed gently in the garage.

I watched from the rear window of the truck as the sister in law walked around inspecting the toy box.

It was the moment of truth.

She did not smile, she didn’t so much as nod her head.

She gave her brother in law a halfhearted hug for all his effort. You could tell it was a fake.

The craftsman and his wife returned to the truck and we all drove home.

Along the way I had to ask a question I already knew the answer to. “Well, did she like it?”

The craftsman never said a word, his wife only said “Nope”.

Not another word was spoken the rest of the way home.

Part four: the conclusion of our story will posted on Christmas Eve.

Ride HARD or Stay Home.

Another Christmas Story Part Two


Another Christmas Story Part Two

Pig Writes

A whole week went by and the materials sat there in the shop. Not a tool was pulled off the shelf nor a pencil sharpened.

His mind raged on in battle as to why he must face this task.

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A task for a nephew he never met, for a sister-in-law he could not tolerate.

She cut him down in the past for his beliefs forged in the “old school” ways. He learned it was better to keep the peace, to mind his own business and keep to himself.

Now he is tasked to build something for the one person he despised the most.

The plan to build the toy box was simple, a few cuts of wood, a dab of glue along with a few screws and the toy box would be put together in a few hours. Yet he could not bring himself to the shop and start the project.

His heart was not in it.

His heart was not in it for all the wrong reasons.

It wasn’t the nephew’s fault.

But then Friday came with news of a horrible tragedy.

Twenty children and six adults would lose their lives to a madman.

The laughter silenced. The joy gone.

Those left behind will bear great pain for their loss.

Something changed inside the man’s mind. There was now movement in his heart.

Early that Saturday morning the work had begun. The tools of his craft were dusted off, cleaned and oiled. Blades were sharpened. Everything was ready to go.

I watched off to the side as the man got busy with his work. What he did once before as a young man now was a bit harder for him to do. The paunch of his fat belly strained his back, his tired eyes required prescription glasses instead of safety glasses. It was most certain he was not the same young man as long ago.

I watched as he toiled to make measurements and cuts. His written plans and drawings were more like notes scratched on paper to serve as reminders to him. The plan in his head being transferred to his hands. It didn’t take long before the raw materials began to take shape of a toy box. He continued working throughout the day. Only stopping for the occasional smoke break and a drink of his Dr. Pepper.

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I asked him once during the day why he was going through all this work if he really didn’t want to. His only reply was “I have my reason.”

Singular.

That meant only one reason why.

I pondered as to what that one reason was.

At the end of the day the mans wife came out to the shop to see the progress made.

A smile grew on her face for she was pleased in what she saw.

Before her stood a grand toy box and shelf.

The wood was bare, the edges were rough-like the man who built it.

She loved him with all of her heart.

After a pause, the wife looked at her husband and asked “Where will the stars go?”

Stars?”, the man & I looked at each other, “What stars?”

Ride HARD or Stay Home

Pig.

Another Christmas Story Part One


 

Another
Christmas Story

Part
One

Pig
Writes.

The bike is ready to go

The bike is ready to go

Long,
long ago there was a young man who had desires to be a woodworker.

He was
creative. He learned many things from his father.

He
learned how to use tools safely and how to care for them.

He
learned his craft true and straight like the cuts he made into the
wood he used. Better yet, like a true craftsman, he learned how to
hide his mistakes.

The
young man made all sorts of things, from wooden toys to shelves and
even furniture. For he was good at his craft.

English: old craft

English: old craft (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

People
from all around wanted him to build things for them.

But
then one day, he put his tools down and stored them away. People had
changed. They didn’t want to pay him what he was owed for his
services. They all seemed to take advantage of him for his craft.

The
love of his craft was gone. The young man no longer enjoyed what he
did.

That
was many years ago.

Recently
there was a birth of a nephew in the family and Christmas would soon
arrive.

The
man was asked by his wife to build a toy box for the new nephew as a
Christmas present.

At
first the man said “No!”. But his wife knew how to push his
buttons to convince him to say “Yes”. The poor guy never stood a
chance. Broken down and ashamed I heard him mutter “OK, I’ll do
it”.

He
would agree to build a toy box for the new nephew, but not for the
sister-in-law who could not bear to stand in the same room as him.

What
was going through his mind at that moment, I would not know.

I
wasn’t sure as to why he would agree to build something his heart was
not into.

I
would learn why soon enough.

Ride
HARD or Stay Home

Pig

 

Where Have You Been Pig?


English: Waffle House Logo

English: Waffle House Logo (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Hey Piglets

The bike is ready to go

The bike is ready to go

Yeah I know it’s been a while since my last blog. I guess you could say I am guilty as charged for not writing. So sue me.

For the week of Thanksgiving, Rainman and I completed what was an epic journey by motorcycle from San Antonio to St. Louis. A ride that was a mire 2148 miles. Call it a journey in search of the World’s Largest Ball of String. But it was more than a journey, for us, it was an adventure of a life time. The places we seen, the food we ate, and the people we met along the way, made our adventure all the more interesting and memorable.

What we enjoyed the most was some of the comments we got from people along the way.

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Heard this one from a guy at a gas station in Atoka OK. “Hey, that’s a nice looking bike you’ve got there, Oh wait, that’s a Honda motorcycle isn’t it?”

-Yeah, it would be a Honda.

Got this from a lady at a restaurant in Hillsboro TX. “You look just like my brother in that outfit.”

Only thing is I’m more handsome than him.

You don’t publish names do you? I don’t want my ex-husband to find out where I live.” This from the front desk clerk at one of the hotels we stayed at in Bentonville AR.

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Bet you boys could use some coffee, huh?” I heard from the waitress in Shelly’s Café in Cuba MO .

No thanks, my teeth just like to imitate a jackhammer.

I wish I was going with you” Said the nurse on her way to work at the hospital. – That’s funny since most people in the medical field tell us to “Get out while you’re still alive”.

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“Don’t you have warmer transportation than that”?      Had to bite my tongue to keep from laughing at the old grandma at the gas station in Rolla MO.

We were drinking coffee, having a conversation with an old man at the Waffle House in Rolla MO. When all of the sudden he says in a yelling voice, “Who the F… are you to be talking to me.”

OK, the people in Rolla MO are starting to scare me.

Eat your bacon Pig, don’t let it go to waste.” Breakfast one morning at grandma’s house.

I think grandma & I need to talk.

Hey everybody, he’s not nuts, he’s a writer for a magazine”, replied a waitress in McAlester OK. She was proud to announce it across the whole restaurant after she learned who we were.

Can we please get out of Oklahoma now?

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I swear this next one really happened. It was at a roadside diner called Mom’s Home Cooking in Vinta OK.

Hey you’re a cute little pig” said the waitress. I looked up at her to respond and I saw she had four breasts protruding from her sweater. All I could say was

Mama, Mama.

Did you know you have a pig on your motorcycle? Around here we keep our pigs in a pen.” Said the smartass punk at a stop light in Gelena Kansas.

– Shame on you for imprisoning your pigs like that and stop romancing the sheep.

The absolute best one I heard was from Rainman himself. We were just outside Bourbon MO. We were going uphill fast and hard to pass a semi-truck when all of the sudden, everything got quite. Real quite. And then all I heard was “Oh Shit, the bike ran out of gas.”

Ride Hard, and fill the gas tank.

Have a nice day.

Pig


Greetings to all my friends out there.  Yeap, I’m back.

I know you all have missed me.   Rainman has been keeping me busy.  It is something new he is trying to keep me from drinking all of his beer.  I haven’t had much time to write but I was able to sneak this one in.  The article posted on the web-zine this week.

 

Enjoy

 

Pig