Category Archives: animals

Aim High and Fail Big — My New Life Motto

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A black T‑shirt featuring a bold retro-style graphic with the motto “Aim High Fail Big,” including a rocket launch, mountains, stars, and playful illustrations of misadventures.The T‑Shirt That Sums Me Up

 

 I saw a phrase the other day that absolutely sums up my entire existence. I need it on a T‑shirt, a mug, maybe even a bumper sticker (if I still had a car).

Aim High and Fail Big.

Honestly? If there were Olympic medals for enthusiastic misfires, I’d have a shelf full of gold.

Never a Boring Moment

Looking back — which is allowed because I’m officially “old enough to reflect” — I can say with confidence that my life has been… let’s call it eventful. Not always successful, not always sensible, but never dull.

I’ve always believed life should be lived fully. Sometimes that means doing things that terrify me just to see what they’re like. Am I an adrenaline junkie? Not really. I draw the line at jumping out of planes. Zip‑lining looked fun, but my joints now file formal complaints if I even think about impact sports.

College: High Hopes, Low Follow‑Through

Let’s start with college. Before that, my parents kept me more or less contained. Then came freedom — and the 60s/70s. Flower children, protests, Kent State, the whole wild swirl.

By my rural upbringing standards, I was a Wild Child. In reality, I was just high on trying new things and low on studying. I dropped out after two years. Epic fail? Sure. But would I trade the fun? Absolutely not.

Early Career: Ambition Meets Chaos

Then came my early work years. I aimed high professionally… and also aimed high socially, because back then everyone partied like it was a competitive sport. No one reined me in, and I was determined to keep up.

I once went boating in a nor’easter. Yes, a nor’easter. No, I don’t recommend it. Yes, it was a rush.

Eventually I burned out like a candle in the wind. I drifted a bit before landing at a dance studio. I loved it. I had stage fright. Naturally, I bought a franchise.

Best years of my work life — until it wasn’t. I sold at a loss. Another spectacular fail. But oh, the stories.

Then came Comcast. Enough said.

Vacation Adventures: Still Aiming HighApproaching Grizzly

You’d think I’d have learned to dial it back. But no. Even on vacation, I’m still me.

Take the time I tried to get the perfect photo of a bear. Not a safe photo. Not a zoom‑lens photo. No, I wanted the epic shot — the kind National Geographic photographers get after three months in the wilderness and a signed waiver.

There I was, camera in hand, thinking, This is going to be amazing. Meanwhile the bear was thinking, Lady, I don’t even know you.

Did I get the photo? Absolutely not. Did I survive? Shockingly, yes. Did I fail big? Oh, in spectacular fashion. But I aimed high — and that’s the whole point.

Why I Love This Motto

My life has never been neat, tidy, or sensible. But it has been full — of adventures, misfires, detours, and stories that make people say, “You did WHAT?”

So yes, I want the T‑shirt. Because “Aim High and Fail Big” isn’t a warning. It’s a celebration.

It means you tried. It means you lived. It means you’ve got stories worth telling — even the ones where the bear wins.

Coming Full Circle

And after all the adventures — the nor’easter boating, the psychedelic college years, the dance‑studio detour, the bear‑photo fiasco, the helicopter thrill rides, and even that day I stood there grinning while holding a hawk like it was the most normal thing in the world — I figured I’d end this post with a little proof that I’ve always been this way.

Long before the adrenaline experiments, the questionable decisions, and the spectacular misfires, there was me, aiming high in the most literal way possible.

Pom‑poms. Pep. Arms in the air. Confidence for days. Absolutely no idea what was coming next.

Turns out I’ve been “Aim High, Fail Big” since the very beginning.

 

Booms Before the Fourth of July: Why Are We Doing This Already?

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Vibrant Fourth of July fireworks lighting up the night sky with red, blue, and gold bursts.

A Holiday of Mixed Emotions

The Fourth of July has always been a holiday of mixed emotions for me. I can feel overwhelming pride in being an American — I still get choked up over the Star‑Spangled Banner — yet I can also cringe at some of the politics and the things our leaders do in the country’s name. I feel nostalgia for growing up in the country, where we set off firecrackers and small fireworks in wide‑open fields. Though even then, I never liked the loud bangs. If someone ever invents silent fireworks, I’ll be first in line.

Fireworks: The Part I No Longer Look Forward To

As I’ve gotten older, my fondness for fireworks has faded even more. They’re the main reason I no longer look forward to this most patriotic of holidays. My love for my country hasn’t changed, but do we really need to celebrate with explosions? The big town displays are beautiful — I’ll give them that — but the noise is another story. And it would be one thing if it were limited to the actual holiday. But it never is.

Every neighborhood seems to have that person who wants to set off mini‑fireworks and firecrackers just to make noise. They’re illegal in Massachusetts, but no one enforces it. The police say that by the time they arrive, no one “sees anything,” so it’s a waste of resources. Meanwhile, the noise starts in mid‑June and rolls on for weeks. If we must endure it, can’t we at least confine it to July 4th itself?

Pets, Babies, and the People Who Don’t Care

I hate watching my pets cower under furniture, refuse to eat, and slink around in fear because some unfeeling jerk drove to New Hampshire, bought illegal fireworks, and decided to terrorize the neighborhood. And it’s not just pets. Think of the poor parent who has finally gotten their newborn to sleep — that rare, precious moment of quiet — when suddenly BANG! The baby jolts awake, terrified, and the crying starts all over again. Mom or Dad has to begin the whole exhausting process from scratch because someone wanted to play amateur pyrotechnician.

At least when I was growing up, we set fireworks off in the middle of a field — not ten feet from someone else’s home.

Drone Display – American Eagle

There Are Better Options — Use Them

So yes, this is a rant. I was sitting here enjoying a quiet evening when the pyrotechnics started next door. The cats ran, I jumped, and now I have to close my slider, lose the evening breeze, and turn on the AC — which is bad for the environment and costs money. Add that to the list of reasons I’m over this tradition.

Stick to the big, sanctioned town displays — or better yet, switch to drone shows. They’re stunning, and no one’s pets or babies end up traumatized. But please, leave the neighborhoods in peace.

How about you — are the early fireworks driving you (and your pets) up the wall too?

 

A Heartfelt Thank You to My Readers and Supporters

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“A black cat and an orange cat perched side‑by‑side on their cat tree, looking like unlikely but perfect partners in crime.”

Getting closer

Why Your Support Matters More Than You Know

I wanted to take a moment to thank you — my readers, followers, friends, and family — for your continued support. Without you, this blog would be little more than a personal diary. With you, I get to travel the world from my desktop and share the journey.

When I was on the reader side of things, I never realized how much creators, podcasters, and bloggers rely on their followers. Your interactions help with rankings, visibility, and growth. For many creators, that growth is their livelihood.

I only dabble in monetizing at this point, so I’m not dependent on it — but I’d be lying if I said I don’t check my performance stats first thing every morning. I set goals for views and visitors, and every “Like” is a little celebration. Comments? Those absolutely make my day. When I hear from you, I know I’ve hit the mark.

I wanted to give you a peek into the world we bloggers and creators live in, and to tell you how much it means to have you here with me.

Thank you for stopping by.
Thank you for taking the time to read my blather.
Thank you for sharing my posts with your friends and family.

Banner, Balboa, and I appreciate it more than you know.

Colorado’s Wildlife Bridge Gets Its First Big Visitors

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Update : Colorado, Greenland Wildlife Overpass

Remember that wildlife overpass Colorado finished earlier this year — the one I wrote about when it opened? Well, it just had its first major moment. A trail cam captured three elk using the bridge, strolling across like they’ve been doing it forever.

It’s exactly what biologists hoped for: large animals choosing the safe route instead of darting across I‑25. And honestly, seeing it actually work feels like a little win for both wildlife and drivers.

Two bull elk standing in a grassy field with trees behind them, representing the wildlife now using Colorado’s new overpass.”

I’ve linked back to my original post if you want the full backstory.

Parkour Madness

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Two cats engaged in a friendly wrestling match, paws wrapped around each other.

The Night the Zoomies Took Flight

It was a parkour moment of madness.

It started like any normal night. We had our before‑bed play session, and then Banner climbed onto the top of my dresser and refused to come down — so we skipped the bedtime grooming with the glove. Fine. I got myself settled into bed, eyes just starting to get heavy, drifting toward sleep.

And then it happened.

Little cat feet came stampeding my way. A bounce on my feet at the end of the bed — just a quick pounce and gone. Then a mad scramble on the floor, some batting, some wrestling, and then… stillness.

I let my eyes close again.

That’s when I heard something behind me, followed by a blur of orange fluff skimming my head and landing with a whump right in front of my face. Eighteen pounds of fat cat. My heart was pounding. I swear I felt claws scrape my scalp (and maybe my face), but Banner simply repositioned himself on the nightstand and stared at me like a stone gargoyle.

Then something caught his attention.
His ears perked; he stretched up. Balboa was peeking over the footboard — and that was all it took.

 

They were off again, over the bed and into the living room. The parkour moment had passed.

The 3:30 a.m. Aftermath

Around 3:30 a.m., I made my nightly trip to the bathroom. Banner followed, calm as could be, as if the earlier chaos had never happened. When I came back to bed, Balboa had made himself comfortable — totally normal. But then Banner hopped up and took my side of the bed. No room for Mom.

But it was so unusual, I couldn’t even be mad. We had a late‑night, early‑morning cuddle session until Balboa realized his brother was next to him. Then off they went again, and I finally got the bed back.

Fitbit always tells me I don’t get restful sleep.
I wonder why.