tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-100096860680275462024-03-13T18:41:55.069-05:00the adventures of poo-tailj e theriothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00164966336033671546noreply@blogger.comBlogger853125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10009686068027546.post-39925968227291968112016-09-19T20:16:00.002-05:002016-09-19T20:16:40.885-05:00me in the studioj e theriothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00164966336033671546noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10009686068027546.post-28096572030093960872016-09-19T19:56:00.001-05:002016-09-19T20:01:32.436-05:00when you die
WHEN YOU DIE, and you’re wandering through the bardos, you’ll be terrorized by various demons. You’ll be very very afraid. But the important thing to remember is that, however terrifying the demons seem to be, they’re not real and they can’t hurt you. Remember that. Just keep going. They’re not real and they can’t hurt you.
Which brings me to Dixieland Jazz. What’s j e theriothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00164966336033671546noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10009686068027546.post-43290171470104280962016-06-09T09:34:00.002-05:002016-06-09T09:34:30.192-05:00twigj e theriothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00164966336033671546noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10009686068027546.post-42015353298860961182016-06-09T08:19:00.001-05:002016-06-09T08:19:13.995-05:00lycanj e theriothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00164966336033671546noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10009686068027546.post-2184329496177862182016-06-09T08:18:00.000-05:002016-09-19T20:02:57.887-05:00indestructible dog toy
MARY says this new indestructible dog toy, for once, is
actually indestructible. So far, at least, her dogs have not
succeeded in destroying it.
Which reminds me of my own
indestructible toy I played with when I was a young boy.
Fast-forward forty years — I can pull it down from the
closet upstairs and play with it just like I used to. One of
those chunky j e theriothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00164966336033671546noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10009686068027546.post-64415353659629196532016-06-09T08:11:00.000-05:002016-09-19T20:03:50.529-05:00i am a bunny
THERE’S A BOOK called I AM A BUNNY. It’s about this bunny named Nicholas who lives in a HOLLOW TREE, and when you turn the pages he hops from season to season.
In spring, he picks FLOWERS. He lies in the GRASS watching INSECTS buzzing by. He chases BUTTERFLIES. In summer, he lies in the sun watching the BIRDS. The FROGS in the pond too. When it rains, he j e theriothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00164966336033671546noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10009686068027546.post-39743787233421739252016-06-09T08:05:00.001-05:002016-06-09T09:31:06.439-05:00the wisdom of the body
BOTH BUDDHA and Jesus showed us that the surest way to propagate wisdom is to embody it. God embodied in human form, in the case of Christianity. And in the case of Buddhism, realizing through contemplation and meditation that the ultimate seat of intelligence is not some lofty conceptual fabrication.
Wisdom is more in the body, and the mind is more in the heart, j e theriothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00164966336033671546noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10009686068027546.post-45012940337600401052016-06-09T07:50:00.003-05:002016-06-09T07:50:52.136-05:00very moist lichenj e theriothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00164966336033671546noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10009686068027546.post-18904308253786262242016-05-22T08:25:00.000-05:002016-05-22T08:27:32.883-05:00sisters on the run
INTRIGUED by a small headline in the state roundup section of the newspaper this morning — Sisters arrested for stealing from casino. What a delicious little Louisiana story, I thought to myself, grabbing my cup of coffee and sitting down to read more. Nuns stealing from a casino! I do love a good nun story. Then when I read the article, turns out the sisters weren't nuns.j e theriothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00164966336033671546noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10009686068027546.post-55733197664342236662016-05-22T08:23:00.000-05:002016-05-22T08:23:05.377-05:00indestructible
MARY says this new indestructible dog toy, for once, is actually indestructible. So far, at least, her dogs have not succeeded in destroying it. Which reminds me of my own indestructible toy I played with when I was a young boy. Fast-forward forty years — I can pull it down from the closet upstairs and play with it just like I used to. One of those chunky plastic oblong stackt cubes games j e theriothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00164966336033671546noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10009686068027546.post-21982275619602302162016-04-29T10:14:00.001-05:002016-04-29T10:14:07.086-05:00picking up the pieces
ONE OF MY PATIENTS is a young man, twenty years old, who sustained a brain injury last year after shooting himself in the head. He can’t remember how it happened, which is commonly the case with injuries of this magnitude. There’s often a chunk of memory from the days or hours leading up to the injury that’s lost, as well as a period of time after the injury during which the person cannot j e theriothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00164966336033671546noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10009686068027546.post-5110788337823558432016-04-24T10:10:00.000-05:002016-04-24T10:10:15.408-05:00nutria skullj e theriothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00164966336033671546noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10009686068027546.post-78396007229574270182016-04-22T14:48:00.004-05:002016-04-22T14:52:01.421-05:00rose hill
BEFRIENDED a roadrunner on my bike ride up Rose Hill this morning. This is not a dream. I actually met a roadrunner. Ok, maybe befriended is too strong a word, but we definitely had a moment together.
My favorite morning bike ride in Palm Springs is through the Las Palmas neighborhood up toward Rose Hill. It’s uphill most of the way, and the last leg of it is quite j e theriothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00164966336033671546noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10009686068027546.post-63678323118216628522016-03-30T08:53:00.000-05:002016-03-30T08:53:37.916-05:00author note
STEPHEN KING likens the job of a writer to that of an archaeologist.
He’s come to the conclusion, after writing the books he’s written,
that writers don’t make up stories as much as they unbury them:
Stories are relics, part of an undiscovered pre-existing
world. The writer’s job is to use the tools in his or her
toolbox to get as much out of the ground j e theriothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00164966336033671546noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10009686068027546.post-63543991543605093172016-03-10T17:52:00.001-06:002016-04-22T14:52:20.659-05:00visitation
A CROW cawed. We’re haunted by crows, I thought. But the thought escaped me before I finished thinking it. Then the crow left.
j e theriothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00164966336033671546noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10009686068027546.post-56784181089939169492016-01-08T09:14:00.000-06:002016-01-08T10:59:28.832-06:00the sunrise
THE SUNRISE was pink glaze scraped across lavender gingerbread, a nuclear orange jellybean playing peek-a-boo through the treeline. It was rippling lavender bayou water mirroring the sky’s pink sugar. It was a duo of bluejays reconnoitering overhead, squawking like pterodactyls.
I’d paddled the canoe to the north end of the lake in the dark. I wanted to be on the j e theriothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00164966336033671546noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10009686068027546.post-70156202027289671632015-12-30T07:20:00.001-06:002015-12-30T07:20:15.526-06:00inscription
The vine of time is no straight line,
and the dead still speak if we know how to listen.
j e theriothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00164966336033671546noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10009686068027546.post-70558948669125336272015-12-18T09:23:00.002-06:002015-12-18T09:24:20.192-06:00principal's corner
Dear All,
A few years ago the St. Martin Parish School Board promised us that it would try to get more land around school. This request for additional property was one of our most important long range needs because of increasing enrollment. Also we felt that there might not be any vacant property around school later on judging by the way people were buying and sellingj e theriothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00164966336033671546noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10009686068027546.post-13515349388013227352015-12-17T09:15:00.002-06:002015-12-17T09:16:50.027-06:00bayou mercier sunsetj e theriothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00164966336033671546noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10009686068027546.post-37976377345750495482015-12-17T09:11:00.002-06:002015-12-17T09:11:15.002-06:00december 12, 2015
CATAHOULA LAKE was once so deep that its bottom was beyond the reach of even the most accomplished Indian divers. No wonder they thought it was bottomless. The lake was a body of water unlike any other they’d known. Who could blame them for believing it was a portal to eternity?
Today you can reach the bottom of the lake all too easily — it’s getting shallower every j e theriothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00164966336033671546noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10009686068027546.post-49643949911593753772015-12-03T14:34:00.002-06:002015-12-03T14:34:57.081-06:00torn
I DREAMED it was a sunny afternoon and there was a fresh blanket of snow on the ground. I was torn. I wanted to go skiing with Luke, but I also wanted to stay exactly where I was, fast asleep on the sofa.
Knowing me, I knew that if I didn’t wake up immediately I’d spend the rest of the day lounging around, so I stood up like I meant it and poured myself a j e theriothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00164966336033671546noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10009686068027546.post-80884224954841526362015-12-02T09:48:00.002-06:002015-12-02T09:48:57.336-06:00turning 42
TEN THOUGHTS on the last day of my forty-second year on Earth:
1) Scolding or shouting at a person never helps your cause and rarely changes anyone’s mind. In fact, it often accomplishes the opposite. If you want to express your opinion and have it truly be heard, add humor, humility or kindness to your message, and it will be well received. Better yet, embody the j e theriothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00164966336033671546noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10009686068027546.post-24337786448056689252015-12-01T18:26:00.001-06:002015-12-02T09:27:19.877-06:00the tie the day before
EVERY NIGHT I put out what I’ll be wearing the following day, including underwear, socks and shoes — and a belt if I’m wearing a belt. I started this daily ritual the night before I took my seventh grade school picture and I’ve kept it up ever since.
I remember my mom had gone shopping in Lafayette that day, and I’d asked her to keep an eye out for a j e theriothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00164966336033671546noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10009686068027546.post-36290619615690606792015-11-18T17:39:00.000-06:002015-11-18T17:40:42.524-06:00what the sign says
NOW THAT WE LIVE in a different neighborhood, I have a new commute into the city. It’s a cool ride. I bike from our apartment near Memorial Park, all along Buffalo Bayou, into downtown Houston — and I never have to stop at a stop sign or a traffic light. The bike trails go over and under the surface streets.
When I start my morning commute, just before sunrise, j e theriothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00164966336033671546noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10009686068027546.post-20916373579169054382015-11-15T17:58:00.004-06:002015-11-15T18:56:27.067-06:00a family like a fricassee
HE DOESN’T SEEM to talk much, but then he doesn’t have to. When you’ve fathered almost an entire town, words are unnecessary. “Pop” Joe Courville celebrates his 87th birthday today on the banks of Catahoula Lake. According to his oldest daughter, Mrs. J. B. (Yola) Laviolette, almost everyone in the town will attend.
Pop Joe has 191 descendants, his j e theriothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00164966336033671546noreply@blogger.com