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Pastimes : Don't Ask Rambi -- Ignore unavailable to you. Want to Upgrade?

To: Rambi who wrote (58697)	2/18/2001 6:43:47 PM
From: Ish	Respond to of 71178

Neat.

To: Rambi who wrote (58697)	2/18/2001 8:17:25 PM
From: CharleyMike	Respond to of 71178

~Charley was handing The Q-Man a DOs Equis ~ Ya'know - for the longest time I thought that meant Two Horses (mainly 'cause it tasted like it had been through two) Then the kid's husband told me Corona smelled like skunk urine and I haven't been able to enjoy a cold Corona since. Pop the cap, suck the lime, smell the brew, recall the aroma, call friend Ralph. Surprised? We were waitin' for ya. One or two more and we're back to normal. Where'd ya' find the sign?

To: Rambi who wrote (58697)	2/18/2001 9:43:02 PM
From: Volsi Mimir	Respond to of 71178

The Flower of Air I met her, not by chance, standing in the middle of the meadow, governing all who passed, all who addressed her. She said to me: "Climb the mountain-- I never leave the meadow. Cut me flowers white as snows, crisp and tender." I climbed the mountain and searched where flowers whiten among the rocks, half sleeping, half waking. When I came down with my burden I found her in the middle of the meadow. Like a crazy one, I covered her with a deluge of lilies. She never glanced at their whiteness. She said to me: "Now bring me red flowers, only the red. I cannot leave the meadow." I clambered up crags with deer and searched for flowers of madness, those that grow red and appear to live and die of redness. ~Gabriela Mistral

To: Rambi who wrote (58697)	2/19/2001 1:56:52 AM
From: Graystone	Read Replies (1) \| Respond to of 71178

A Place to Eat Berries or Eidelweiss February is a terrible month, most places. In the north it is a vicious and unrelenting month of battle when even the sun struggles to stay warm. We need places of rest, warm blood abhors the chill endless gray of winter. He crouched unseen in the garden, near the cabin but far enough away to be separate. He watched her coming up to the cabin, shuffling along with a disheveled look, he chuckled when he saw the smell hit her. He was used to it. The garden planted so long ago wasn't as well tended as it used to be but he still found the strawberries where they held back the encroaching wilderness. The beds were all but gone, but what remained, produced the finest strawberries you could imagine. They were not the water rich, but bland berries of the market, they were something different. The red hue hadn't appeared on some, he left those, to gather in the sun as they could. He searched for and found those that were scarlet with the effort of their growing, red for life.