as a homeowner i have yet to buy powertools so my friends came over and he brought his (the wicker furniture i bought need to be assembled and it was allen wrench that was included) was taking forever by myself. while he put in the bolts his wife regaled us with stories of her travels along the silk trail in eastern europe. it was amazing to hear how other countries/cultures are.
i have a feeling a trip afar is going to happen for me in the next few years
Carl Sandburg wrote:There is a wolf in me . . . fangs pointed for tearing gashes . . . a red tongue for raw meat . . . and the hot lapping of blood—I keep this wolf because the wilderness gave it to me and the wilderness will not let it go.
There is a fox in me . . . a silver-gray fox . . . I sniff and guess . . . I pick things out of the wind and air . . . I nose in the dark night and take sleepers and eat them and hide the feathers . . . I circle and loop and double-cross.
There is a hog in me . . . a snout and a belly . . . a machinery for eating and grunting . . . a machinery for sleeping satisfied in the sun—I got this too from the wilderness and the wilderness will not let it go.
There is a fish in me . . . I know I came from salt-blue water-gates . . . I scurried with shoals of herring . . . I blew waterspouts with porpoises . . . before land was . . . before the water went down . . . before Noah . . . before the first chapter of Genesis.
There is a baboon in me . . . clambering-clawed . . . dog-faced . . . yawping a galoot's hunger . . . hairy under the armpits . . . here are the hawk-eyed hankering men . . . here are the blonde and blue-eyed women . . . here they hide curled asleep waiting . . . ready to snarl and kill . . . ready to sing and give milk . . . waiting—I keep the baboon because the wilderness says so.
There is an eagle in me and a mockingbird . . . and the eagle flies among the Rocky Mountains of my dreams and fights among the Sierra crags of what I want . . . and the mockingbird warbles in the early forenoon before the dew is gone, warbles in the underbrush of my Chattanoogas of hope, gushes over the blue Ozark foothills of my wishes—And I got the eagle and the mockingbird from the wilderness.
O, I got a zoo, I got a menagerie, inside my ribs, under my bony head, under my red-valve heart—and I got something else: it is a man-child heart, a woman-child heart: it is a father and mother and lover: it came from God-Knows-Where: it is going to God-Knows-Where—For I am the keeper of the zoo: I say yes and no: I sing and kill and work: I am a pal of the world: I came from the wilderness.
Last edited by tragabigzanda on Tue January 13, 2026 6:50 pm, edited 1 time in total.
you can be the first RM'er (that is if higgs, rangi, ello and daft twat turn down the invites) to enjoy some burgers and hot dogs made on the blackstone and sit on the regal elegance
you can be the first RM'er (that is if higgs, rangi, ello and daft twat turn down the invites) to enjoy some burgers and hot dogs made on the blackstone and sit on the regal elegance
How did I make the list?
We have two chairs from that exact line. Same gray wicker and blue cushions. They’re swivel rockers. We don’t entertain much so they’re for my wife and me, and occasionally I’ll have one friend at a time to sip whiskey and bullshit with some music on. Anyway, we love them. Good purchase, Peeps.