Great Friends!

Hello all; Two of the most beautiful people you will ever meet.... There came a time some months ago when I was searching the internet, beginning to learn more about myself and my likes and attractions.... in the search I found this little treasure of a place called Scotties Toybox. I read the posts, laughed at the pictures.... basically peaked in on a life I wish I could have, really. In the course of events I had the opportunity to leave a message for the author, and my life has been richer and so very much better ever since. Scottie and Ron have been there for me through fear, heartache and tear fogged typing fingers, smiles, laughter, hope and hopefully love. Thank you, my friends. Hugs, Love, - blue skies and songbirds- randy.

Sad news....the passing of a great soul

Oh, Wow! I am living in shock for the moment! I don't manage to make the rounds of blogs all that often, especially when I have company. They don't have quite the window to my soul that you all do...and though I would say they don't know, I wouldn't be surprised if they did. But, still I have a tendency to go to the blogs I like to check over and see how the young folks live and love, maybe learn something about once a week....and I wish I'd now paid more attention. We've lost a great soul, my friends. Please visit his blog and read further...my words are not of any value: http://timmystillwaiting.blogspot.com I am adding the poem his brother left for him, a tribute.... but please go to the site and see for yourself the wonderful characterization, read the blog and see the beautiful and funny soul. We will miss you, Timmy. Do not go gentle into that good night, Old age should burn and rave at close of day; Rage, rage against the dying of the light. Though wise men at their end know dark is right, Because their words had forked no lightning they Do not go gentle into that good night. Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay, Rage, rage against the dying of the light. Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight, And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way, Do not go gentle into that good night. Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay, Rage, rage against the dying of the light. And you, my father, there on the sad height, Curse, bless me now with your fierce tears, I pray. Do not go gentle into that good night. Rage, rage against the dying of the light.