The garden trembled.

Down and up the trellis the cucumbers frantically searched for a way to save their world, but there would be no hope for the vines. No future. No survival.

Lara and Jor La Cucumber gathered their little seedling Kal La Cucumber and prepared to launch him over the fence. Perhaps the garden in the neighbor's yard would provide a fertile environment for young Kal. Kal would grow strong and the future of the cucumber race would live on in him.

As Kal hurled over the chain link fence the cucumber vines were ripped from the trellis and tossed by Mr. Greenjeans onto the compost pile.

Kal landed in the soft rich soil of the neighbor's garden where he was adopted by Martha and Johnathan Kuke, two seedless cucumbers who had wanted a son of their own. The kind and caring couple called their new son Clark, and Clark Cuke grew strong over time.

One sunny afternoon Johnathan Kuke was snatched off the vine by the garden keeper, Mr. Grimm. Clark was devastated at the loss of the only father he had ever known. Martha for some unknown and possibly sadistic reason was compelled to reveal the truth to her son about his real parents. In her twisted little mind she felt he should know that his real parents were from a different garden somewhere over the fence. Now Clark was doubly devastated and ran away as traumatized cucumbers are apt to do.

Clark landed a job working in a place called "The Kitchen", doing odd chores, mopping floors and watching the doors.

It happened without warning.

While trying to clean a cobweb in the corner Clark lost his balance and fell into a vat of vinegar! The pain was excruciating as the slightly acidic brine began to alter his DNA. Clark's color began to darken. He was no longer that bright green Kuke who had enjoyed summer afternoons hanging out on the vine. Clark struggled to escape the horrible vat of juice, helplessly grasping at the sides. He could not get a hand hold, nor foothold, which really wasn't surprising, since he hadn't any hands nor feet to begin with.

Clark bobbed up and down several times before succumbing to his fate and began to sink. Clark slowly slipped in and out of consciousness until the world closed in around him. Everything was about to go black when Clark felt a strange surge of energy coursing through his rind. The vinegar had instilled new powers into Clark. He was rising inexplicably (not to be confused with inexplicitly) to the surface, emerging from the sour bath refreshed, rejuvenated, renewed!

Clark soon discovered he was able to leap tall trash bins in a single bound. He was more powerful than an aged cheddar, faster than a slippery black banana peel. He was able to fly up up and away, into the sky like a bird or a butterfly. He was soon to become known through out the world as Super Pickle and would fight for turnips, parsnips, and American pie.

For more exciting adventures of mild mannered Clark Kuke, aka Super Pickle tune in to this blog on Xanga 2.0!

Episode 2: Super Pickle meets Coleslowis Lane and the Rotten Tomatoes.

Until we meet again

As we approach the end of Xanga 1.0 I thought it might be fun to look back at my top ten Xanga moments. I realize that this is really not an easy task, for there were so many top moments. Perhaps this list isn't really the top ten, but rather ten Xanga moments I am enjoying the memory of...

1. Donkey Duals. Many of my readers probably remember the duals @Donkey_Guy_10 and I would have. I believe there were three in all, and a presidential campaign as well... Donkey duals were so much fun. Steve (Donkey) and I would email each other scripting our posts, much like a WWF bout, while occasionally adlibbing lines. The best part was how many people actually thought we were fighting real duals. It was all in good fun. The best one was the one we held, leading up to breast cancer awareness month.

2. Save the Boobs. Speaking of breast cancer awareness, @TheologiansCafe's save the boobs campaign has also been a great Xanga experience for me. We were all able to oogle the breasts of our favorite Xangans, even if we didn't know whose breasts were whose. I would look through the pics and try to guess which breasts belonged to which of my friends. I never knew for sure but it was fun trying to guess anyway.

3. Xanga Meets. I had the good fortune to attend several Xanga meets, where the Xangans I have come to know and love all got together in person and in hand celebrated our friendships over stories, silly goings on and meals. The best part was meeting people I had not nor would have never met if it weren't for Xanga. People like Beth and Dave, Mae and Warren, Steve and Jen just to name a few.

4. Posting Pics of My Wife Topless. Still one of my most popular and personally favorite posts. If you never had the opportunity to check it out you can see it here... http://aloysius-son.xanga.com/615266093/topless/ I followed that post up with a second, My Mother and Sisters Topless...

5. Foreign Friends. Although this really isn't a single moment, that I have made so many friends who come from different cultures and far away lands is so intriguing to me. Australia, Denmark, England, France, Hong Kong, Malaysia, Germany, Croatia, Canada and Mexico. There are others though I can't think of them right now off the top of my head.

6. Sharing My Art. I can't even begin to tell you what a joy it has been to be able to share my art work with the world through Xanga. I may never be as influential an artist as Rembrandt or Picasso, but I find great satisfaction in knowing that my gift as an artist has not gone completely ignored. Thank you to all of you who have shared in my vision.

7. The God Argument. Again, this was never a single moment but rather a collection of moments, when I shared in my thoughts and reflections on the nature of Divine existence. Most often this occurred in the comments sections of other's blogs. There has been a wide and diverse expression of thoughts and opinions covering nearly every conceivable belief system from the most affirming believers to the most defiant deniers. Each opinion earned a place in my thinking, whether or not I agreeded. It has helped me to better come to know and understand my relationship with the Lord.

8. Care Packages. Or rather, "I Care" packages. I have been on both ends of giving and receiving care packages with Xangans. There have been good friends whom had fallen on hard times and my wife and I would put together a small box of treasures for these people, things as simple as garden seeds, candy or socks to the more interesting, works of art, gift cards to local grocery stores and other object of necessity or forms of encouragement. We have also received some wonderful treasures, including a most marvelous book of poetry and also one of Danish chocolate, which by the way is gone and needs to be replenished... hint hint hint.

9. The Comment. Every so often someone leaves a deep and powerfully meaningful comment. There have really only been a small handful of them. Most visitors are very polite and their comments are well meaning short appreciated words. I cherish these, but then there are those few who take the time to really express a deeper understanding of who I am and maybe why I posted. I like to leave meaningful comments, when I can. It isn't always easy. Sometimes the best I can muster is an emoticon. I appreciate any comment, even the stupid and crass ones, although I will delete them if I find them overly offensive or annoying. (almost always spammers). I rarely if ever block a real person no matter how rude. I feel that there must be something important driving everybody's behavior. Besides I can take anything anybody can dish out. I can dish out some pretty nastiness myself if I truly wanted to, so I figure I had better be able to swallow the same medicine. It does keep me grounded.

10. The Drama Troll. You know them. They are the ones everybody loves to hate. What would Xanga be like with out them? I'll tell you. BORING! They are even more entertaining when they band together in small groups and engage in "turf wars". It's so cute how silly they all appear and so oblivious to their own foolishness. I even reinvented myself as "SUPERTROLL" out of my deep admiration for the Troll and their affect on people. Trolls are much easier to handle if you have a great pair of horns, like me.

There are many many moments I have experienced in the land of Xanga, which I shall remember with great fondness, friends, words spoken, pictures shared. Some will fade into the dark corners of my mind while others will sit on a metaphoric easel under a bright spotlight. Perhaps you might share a Xanga moment that stands out in your mind. Won't you?

I finally made the pledge today.
I am disappointed in the way Xanga initially handled the lifetime premium memberships, but I am able to push my personal feelings aside and am willing to help provide the opportunity for nine of my friends, who would otherwise not be able to afford to do so, to continue blogging on Xanga.

If you haven't pledged and you can afford to do so, please do so soon.

Payment Summary

Date: 07/01/2013
Amount: $480.00
Card: VISA card ************       
Reward Selected: Ten year-long Xanga blogging memberships
ID: CON2F13C74CE1F211E285413F5907579F6F

For a great many Xangans I fear we will soon be seeing their final posts. I have given a little thought to what mine might be if indeed I were to do one last post. Have you given any thought to what your final post might look like?

Would it resemble the final episode of a dramatic beloved tv series? Or maybe you would like to go out with a little giggle and a haw-haw laugh.

Will your final post be all mushy and a real tear jerker? Or will you slip quietly into the shadows of our memories lurking forever silently in our daydreams?

I thought it would be fun to have one final dual with Donkey_guy. Or maybe paint one last special painting for you all to enjoy.

Maybe there won't have to be a final post. Maybe the new Xanga will bring us a big bright tomorrow. That would be nice.

I haven't decided what or when my final post will be. Maybe this is it.

Maybe I will spend the rest of my days on Xanga 1, just visiting with all my friends one last time.

One thing I do know, is that very soon I shall embark on a Xanga walkabout. You know about that, right? A Xanga walkabout is where you visit with one friend and then you visit with one of their friends, never returning to your site, but just "walking about" and letting the friends of friends be your guide.

Yes I think that is what I shall be doing very soon. I hope to see you along the way...

It's not a song, but the music accompanies the poem...

The tired cow hand brushes the dusty coat from his boots
His spurs jingle jangle as his weary head dingle dangles
The light grey palomino glances around the crowded corral
Horses sense the storm on the horizon homing in and cower

There's a square dance in the barn, round and round they go
Fair maidens and old maids, young dudes and grandpa Guses 
Gilbert and Sullivan fiddle with a wash tub and whiskey jug
Dance ye merry fools, kick up your heels, throw back your tresses

Freedom at last, the voice booms across the star domed sky
As the black wind swallows all their pride, their skirts and ties
swirling around and around like a frog in a blender or worse
A drunk on a bender the night before he plowed into a hearse

Stillness fills the place as here becomes there in one moment
And there becomes here in the next, there is no rhythm or rhyme
Hay flies, shoe flies, horse flies, dear flies, no one hears the cries
Not even the single lonely star that peeks around clouds passing by

In a flash all is lost. The horse, the maids, the barn, the jug
The hope, the future, the past, the saddle, the lasso, the lads
The dopes, the fools, the mules in training, the big boss, the lass
tossed in the turning, unsettled in the wake while stomachs churning

At last the long and painful night is over, dawn has broken
The rocking chair sits atop the flower bed, flowers scattered everywhere
The sheets hang wrinkled in the air softly fluttering to earth soaked
There is chaos in the stillness as the full rays blast darkness into light

The cowhands eyes flutter from open to open to open and open again
All the rage, all the spinning, all the twirling, all the swirling, all the turning
This time were created solely inside his head, on his pillow, in his bed
Putting on the dust coated boots, rises upon his pony to ride the range

That is how much roof my crew installed this last quarter. I figured last year I supervised just about $5.5 million worth of roofing.

In my career, I have installed over $100 million worth of roof. That's a lot of roof.

I would estimate it to be close to 12,000,000 square feet of roof. That is enough roof to cover 208 football fields.

I had to climb 30 miles of ladder up, and back down in order to do it.

9,000 sunrises, many of which came unnoticed, many drunk with my eyes of all God's splendor.

I have worked along side nearly 800 individuals, many of whom I hardly remember, many of whom I can never forget, black men, white men, Hispanics, country folk, city slickers, son's of doctors and sons of guns, tall men, short men, smart, not so smart and everything in between.

I have roofed on two continents, on top secret gov't facilities, prisons, schools, malls, supermarkets. I have roofed colleges, small businesses and large, like Johnson and Johnson, Xerox and Federal Express.

I have worked over 60,000 hours roofing and earned over $1.36 million over my career. Most of that was paid out in food, clothing, taxes, utilities and interest on loans. I still have a few dollars tucked away.

I'm not done yet.

Monday, I will go to work and we will fill more dumpsters with tear off, install thousands of dollars worth of insulation and roofing membrane. We will work with cranes, and power tools, unload tractor trailers full of materials and watch another sunrise. It will mean 10 more hours under my belt and another 6,000 square feet.

When I was in 5th grade and Sister Annette asked us what we wanted to be when we grow up, never in my wildest dreams would I have thought  I was going to be a roofer. It just goes to show you, you never really know what plan has been laid out for you until you live it.

Please if you would be so kind, tell me a little about your career...

Trees seem like plain and simple beings, rooted in one spot, quiet, submissive to the whims of nature,
but they are not as they seem.

Trees are brutal beings, choking out the competition, resisting the wind, sucking up vital nutrients and water,
mating indiscriminately in order to spread their seed.

The American blue beech is one of the slowest growing and most dense hardwoods on this continent.
Often referred to as the ironwood tree, wood workers avoid it because it dulls cutting tools quickly.

One such tree can produce hundreds of thousands of offspring in its 140 year lifetime.
It is one of the first hardwood trees to reclaim an open meadow and transform it into a forest.

I cut one such tree, estimating its age to be 128 years by ring count and dragged it back to the cabin.
It has become the center post of the spiral stair case leading up to the loft.

Drilling and chiseling into the tree a single hole and fitting one step takes a little over an hour and half.
The steps are cut from a slab of ash cut specifically for this purpose. Ash is much easier on tools.