Turf Wars

My neighborhood sits on some prime real estate.  This is only my opinion, of course, but let me share with you my observations.  We have been in the middle – bystanders – to some turf wars the past few years.

It all started with the indigenous gopher tribe.  We live in a desert so this makes sense.  Not familiar with gophers?  They are a skittish lot.  A species that does not know how to relax.   It seems their lot in life is to flit about like a group of nervous Nellies.  I swear they have a store of coffee in their underground tunnels.  The Java Joe Go’s also let out a nervous whistle from time to time.  A high pitched, “Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa,” echoes throughout the neighborhood.

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Your Inner-Pooh

photo courtesy the web

When I was young I read a story enough To know a group of friends mostly made out of fluff.  When I look with older eyes I actually begin to see 100 Acre Wood characters inside of me.  Sometimes I am in control and can save the day.  That’s my Christopher Robin coming into play.  Some people think that I’m wise but I’m really rather silly. As I channel my inner-Owl,  I admit I act willy-nilly.  Other times I’m annoying.  Sorry Rabbit, but that’s you.  Sometimes I’m playful and that’s my inner-Roo.  My Kanga peeks out whenever I nurture

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