Tuesday, October 11, 2016


I haven't written a blog in three months. Three. Months. I've had things to write about. I just didn't. I stopped myself. I kept all that stuff locked inside my noggin and now it is lost, crammed, rattling about with all my other ideas, plans and fears that lay the ground for anything I might write. Or not.

Still, something got me pondering as I was driving yesterday (and it was a scrumptious day) windows down, new fave radio station 103.1 The Wave playing excellent 80's songs one after the other. I was taking the scenic route home, getting as much leaf peeping in as possible when Spandau Ballet "True" https://youtu.be/AR8D2yqgQ1U comes on. 

The line "This is the sound of my soul" hit me.  It never really weighed that much when I first heard it all those lifetimes ago. The song was more about Molly Ringwald and Sixteen Candles to me. That moment in time.  All those pop culture references.  A good baseline for everything 80's. But right then, with the breeze and the leaves and that line "this is the sound of my soul" I wanted to know what the sound of my soul was.

I knew immediately what Todd and Dad would say, they would say the sound of my soul was a fart. Then I wanted to know what my friend's souls sounded like.  Was it the ocean? Their children's laughter? The Main Street Electrical Parade?  Beethoven's Violin Concerto in D Major? Rain?

Then I needed to decide why this even mattered to me and what in the world my soul would sound like and if I even had one. Or wanted one.

Then I walked in my door and I saw my Bunny Boys.  Then I heard them chomping their hay.  And I knew. The sound of a soul, any soul, is what gives you peace. Listening to my guys chew on fresh hay is that sound.

I had a ten pound box of hay delivered today.  All is right with the world.

The Bun

The Bun
If you don't like rabbits, you can suck it, shove it and then go soak your head.