There's no place like third place.

I'm not talking about winning and losing here, or races or sports or politics, but something far more important: the simple art of living your life in the real world. In that world, as someone has pointed out, all communities — and therefore all members of communities — need a "third place." It's not your home. It's not where you work. Those are the first two places. No, it's the place where you go to, um, be.
—Stephen Hunter, "Shear Gladness," The Washington Post, September 13, 2002

My third place most recently has been Dreamland, the cemetery where I run, reflect and write. 

What's your 'third place' ?

     Holy Weenie!

And what am I ‘going to be’ ?

A wide-eyed, too-horny, flyin' purple panty eater!

Well I saw the thing comin' out of the sky
It was way too horny with lusty bug-eyes.
I commenced to shakin' and I said "ooh-eee"
It sure looks like a purple panty eater to me.

It was a wide-eyed, too-horny, flyin' purple panty eater.
(wide-eyed, too-horny, flyin' purple panty eater)
A wide-eyed too-horny,flyin' puple panty eater
Sure looks strange to me. (panty?)

Well he came down to earth and lit in a tree
I said Mr. Purple Panty Eater don't eat me
I heard him say in a voice so gruff
"If you're wearing purple loungerie, you've got the right stuff!"
 

I bet a lot of you come here today expecting 'another nfp-cemetery' post.  No way!  I wouldn’t be caught headstonedead in a cemetery—but if you’re really hankering for a samhain cemetery adventure (my live-from-the-cemetery halloween blogs of last year) go here.

Have a Super Samhain! 

(...and for all Christians, Have a Holy Ghost!)