TBD on Ning

...The Ranch's answer to you -know - what - with no rules.

Go ahead...tell us what you're having for dinner - we can't wait! Got a cute pic of kitty peeking out of a paper bag? Post it! We live for that stuff!

Math addict? How about a refresher on the Pythagorean Theorem?

Like macaroni and cheese? Tell us why!

So even if you're not a writer or a poet (yet), there's still plenty of fun things to do at the Armadillo!

Oh baby, oh baby!

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Hey! Who stole my college yearbook picture?

Man, there's nothing like being an instructor AND a student.  I had a paper due yesterday.  I finished and submitted it at 4:25 this morning.  It was supposed to be a minimum of 20 pages, but it ended up being something like 58.  I'm too old for this.

And, my professor had read it and commented on it by 8:21 this morning. 

Now I feel guilty for not correcting my students' lab reports that were due last week.  I am so far behind.



You need an extra cover when you sleep with dogs. My dog is a blanket-stealer, paying no mind to anyone's comfort but her own. She'll jump up, nose under a corner of the blanket, burrow in and roll over, pinning her side of the blanket under her as she settles in. My side of the blanket recedes like the out-going tide. I keep a small flannel coverlet rolled up by my side to afford cover when needed.

I used my dog as a cover - she was a Great Pyrenees.

Writer's den.

Here's an old invitation to the Yaqui Ceremonies currently going on in my neighborhood. This is writin'.  
Tucson, Arizona is the most beautiful town in the Western United States. This spring we are dizzy with wild flowers in the surrounding desert due to unusually heavy winter rains which are treating us to the most painterly display of tender blooms; whites, yellows, oranges, purples and pinks. These last cool days with hints of the heat to come are true blessings, and we all know it. But it would not be spring without the local Yaqui Indians indulging in their mind-blowing Lenten celebration that includes animist and Christian traditions. The flowers are part of it too and for the Yaquis; they are a portal to another world.
I speak without authority on any world, and only as an interested neighbor to the tribe. I read the dry, dry anthropologists, but the light they shed is minimal. I mostly enjoy attending the outdoor rituals that are open to the public. I have a small group of friends who do the same, and we share information and experiences and impressions, and have done so for almost twenty years. I hope the reader, in light of this, will permit me to speak hearsay. As my friend Alex says, the Yaquis are keeping the world in balance for the rest of us. It's a Hopi concept, but it feels true. Through the elaborate rituals, rooted in tradition, one glimpses other realities, as fleeting and intangible as poetry, and that is when I feel the world in balance.
It begins with Ash Wednesday, continues all through the forty days of Lent and culminates in an event called the Gloria on the afternoon before Easter. This is an emotional extravaganza that takes place simultaneously in the four plazas of the four villages scattered around town. I have read that there is another village in Marana, on the way to Phoenix, and another called Guadalupe, just outside of Phoenix, as well as one or two more back in Mexico, on the Rio Yaqui. Each village is set up the same with a small church at one end, with one wall completely open to the hard dirt plaza in front. Inside the chuches are the statues of virgins, Christ on the cross, and accompanying Saints. A lot of the activities of the women and children seem centered here, but the plazas are where most of the processions and rituals take place. Lining the sides of the plaza are tiny food booths, thrown up with pressboard and plastic tarps, which become family kitchens of fry bread and tacos, red chili burros and saladitos and slushies and everyone eats something as they are waiting for the mid-afternoon drama to unfold.
 Don't ask what's going to happen or when, because waiting is part of it. All aspects of the ceremonies must be felt; on this day the hot sun and the wind, on other nights the cold and the rain. Being outside, and just being, while you wait, is all part of the experience. Time moves slowly here, especially for us hurry-up gringos. Come and see for yourself.



 My name is Rufus. I love my ball. Tuff, just like me.

Yeah... cute.  But I'd really be impressed if he was peeking out of a paper bag...or at least a beer bottle.

Oh baby, oh baby!




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