Maggie’s Motivational Pic Thread v2.0 - - New Rules - See Post #1
- Thread starter Snake-Eyes
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- motivational pictures
Cute guy, or gal, can never stand to see those ears folded that way, I’m compelled to straighten them everytime if they’re by me. Lol.
Real life lmao you can’t make it up. That’s a funny story. Love hearing old folk tell stuff, hell I’m old folk, not quavering yet, but we’ll see........
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I wonder how many props/outdrives thats taken out?
I would hope zero. That would be in an idle/no wake zone.
But, we're talking about boaters here.
Is that the Don Caesar hotel in the background?
Wrong side of the county. It's the St. Pete City Marina in the background. Photo taken from the pier. I posted in response to a @shooter65 photo of the pier from the point (Vinoy Park).
They sure moved a lot of docks and boats out of there. Haven't been in Pinellas County in a couple of years.
Now that my daughters are adults, I don't get dragged over there anymore.
Any well seasoned, experienced boater has to have at least a couple torn up props and maybe an outdrive or an inboard shaft cutlass to their credit
Well, at least this one does
One summer I was wandering around the gravel bar at Lake Arrowhead in southern California at the entrance to the docs... This is a private lake so only residents can have a boat on the lake...
We found 30+ prop parts... blades or entire props... people were cutting it too close to the bar.. as the water dropped in the late summer, the bar got closer to the surface...
as some say... If it Flys, Floats or Fucks - cheaper to rent it
Any well seasoned, experienced boater has to have at least a couple torn up props and maybe an outdrive or an inboard shaft cutlass to their credit
My 22' Sportcraft was notorious for finding the bottom.
This Hewes, not so much since it drafts right at 6-7".
But yeah, I found bottom once with it too.
Was the dog hurt? Is he okay? Was this incident reported to the Humane society, ASPCA or PETA? Isn't anyone going to do something for that poor animal?
T'was the night before Christmas, he lived all alone in a one bedroom house, made of plaster and stone.
I had come down the chimney with presents to give, and to see just who in this home did live.
I looked all about, a strange sight I did see: no tinsel, no presents, not even a tree.
No stocking by the mantle, just boots filled with sand; on the wall hung pictures of far distant lands.
With medals and badges, awards of all kinds, a sober thought came through my mind.
For this house was different, it was dark and dreary. I found the home of a soldier, at once I could see clearly.
The soldier lay sleeping; silent, alone, curled up on the floor, in this one bedroom home. Not how I pictured a US soldier.
Was this the hero of whom I'd just read, curled up on a poncho, the floor for a bed?
I realized the families that I saw this night, owed their lives to these soldiers who were willing to fight.
Soon 'round the world, the children would play and grownups would celebrate a bright Christmas Day.
They all enjoyed freedom, each month of the year, because of the soldiers like the one lying here.
I couldn't help wonder how many lay alone on a cold Christmas Eve in a land far from home.
The very thought brought a tear to my eye; I dropped to my knees and started to cry.
The soldier awakened and I heard a rough voice, "Santa, don't cry. This life is my choice.
I fight for freedom, I don't ask for more; my life is my God, my country, my corps."
The soldier rolled over and drifted to sleep; I couldn't control it, I continued to weep.
I kept watch for hours, so silent and still, and we both shivered from the cold night's chill.
I didn't want to leave on that cold, dark night, this guardian of honor, so willing to fight.
Then the soldier rolled over, with a voice soft and pure, whispered, "Carry on Santa, it's Christmas Day, all is secure."
One look at my watch and I knew he was right, "Merry Christmas my friend, and to all a good night."
I had come down the chimney with presents to give, and to see just who in this home did live.
I looked all about, a strange sight I did see: no tinsel, no presents, not even a tree.
No stocking by the mantle, just boots filled with sand; on the wall hung pictures of far distant lands.
With medals and badges, awards of all kinds, a sober thought came through my mind.
For this house was different, it was dark and dreary. I found the home of a soldier, at once I could see clearly.
The soldier lay sleeping; silent, alone, curled up on the floor, in this one bedroom home. Not how I pictured a US soldier.
Was this the hero of whom I'd just read, curled up on a poncho, the floor for a bed?
I realized the families that I saw this night, owed their lives to these soldiers who were willing to fight.
Soon 'round the world, the children would play and grownups would celebrate a bright Christmas Day.
They all enjoyed freedom, each month of the year, because of the soldiers like the one lying here.
I couldn't help wonder how many lay alone on a cold Christmas Eve in a land far from home.
The very thought brought a tear to my eye; I dropped to my knees and started to cry.
The soldier awakened and I heard a rough voice, "Santa, don't cry. This life is my choice.
I fight for freedom, I don't ask for more; my life is my God, my country, my corps."
The soldier rolled over and drifted to sleep; I couldn't control it, I continued to weep.
I kept watch for hours, so silent and still, and we both shivered from the cold night's chill.
I didn't want to leave on that cold, dark night, this guardian of honor, so willing to fight.
Then the soldier rolled over, with a voice soft and pure, whispered, "Carry on Santa, it's Christmas Day, all is secure."
One look at my watch and I knew he was right, "Merry Christmas my friend, and to all a good night."
