Last Saturday, our family reenacted our own version of  The Caine Mutiny.  No strawberries, no ball bearings only a trip to the recycling center.  That trip became the focal point of much drama.

Earlier in the day, we’d worked the fine crew of the USS Sturgeon at the reverse vending machines over in Portland.  The lure of the return deposit offered in Oregon found our ship of intrepid adventurers sailing across the river driven by the promise of monetary return.  Sadly, return deposit isn’t what it used to be.

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I am the person behind the words printed here. I write because my heart will not allow me the option of NOT writing. It has taken me half a life time to discover this basic truth, but now that I have, writing is as natural as breathing. This is where my breath takes the form of words.


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The Miracle Morning: The Not-So-Obvious Secret Guaranteed to Transform Your Life (Before 8AM)
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