From my front door, down to the quiet little creek.

Never seen the creek go this high. Daniel thinks it's crested because he couldn't see the fence an hour ago.

I've been wondering lately what stands between me and death and the fact that I'm asking is good because it means I ain't there yet. Covid didn't get me, I have no heart issues or cancer that I know of, and my genes are good. A bit snug, but good.

So the main thing standing in the way is me, and the choices I make. I could always fall victim to fate, like the guy my age up in Nashville that just got smashed into by a 13 year old kid running a light at high speed in a stolen car, but that's out of my control, unless I decide to never drive again.

As I mosey down Hwy 43 next week I'll have plenty of time to think about all this, and my goal is to show Piper the ocean. I bet it will blow her little mind...

...

I have an unusual ability that I don't talk about much, but then that's why I have a blog. On occasion, I get a glimpse of the other side, usually involving people, where their facade drops off and their true self is visible in all of it's harsh reality.

I suspect this ability became unlocked back in my Haight Ashbury sixties days where I dropped a lot of acid. I used to peek behind the curtain often and it was always enlightening.

I recall the last most vivid occurrence was with the little old lady out on Bates Road in Teton Valley about six years ago. She was a spoiled old broad, nice home on a few acres with a stunning view of the Tetons. Her son was a top mechanic in town, performed magic on my old truck a few times, and mom was well taken care of. Three times a week I would brave the snow drifts to bring her in to the Senior Center for lunch, and then back home, a fifteen mile tough drive in the winter, and it was free to her.

One day as she was walking up the ramp to the Center, pushing her walker in front of her (she was in her late eighties), I mentioned I might be a little late picking her up. Her face was sideways to me and as I think about it, she rarely made direct eye contact. Suddenly she stopped and turned towards me, and I was stunned.

What emerged from that winkled, mostly pleasant face, was the look of a gnarly old wicked witch. It was a Dorothy in Oz kind of witch, and I have never forgotten it.

Just one example, I have a few more... Speaking of weird things, the slab in my creek looked interesting this morning. Considering that Hernando de Soto camped on this creek back in 1541, who knows.

Sometimes, when working on a complex block of code, I have a moment. After hours of diving deep into a project where I know what I want to achieve and all of the pieces are slowly converging, I think to myself, what result logged to the browser console would indicate complete success, that everything works exactly as I conceived it.

I had one of those moments this morning when I opened the console thinking of a single number sent from the code that said success! It was the number 52 and when I saw it sitting there quietly, solidly and alone in the window at the bottom of the browser I thrust my arm towards the screen and shouted "Yes" to a quiet neighborhood where nobody heard me.

I think everyone has those moments at sometime, where something happens that validates all of your hard work and energy, and you just say "Yes" and pump your fist.