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Mom? Is that you?
Colorado Rocks
      Bend over. Pick it up.

A cruel twist of fate, or possibly some sick, twisted obsession of the mind, inhabitation of deamons, spirits and ghouls, or even the effects of a life of depravity and debauchery? No one really knows for sure ... but they have their suspicions.

Rock Hunting in Colorado... like shooting fish in a barrel. Why do you think they call them the "Rocky Mountains?" Much better chance of success hunting rocks than fishing, for example. Nothing against fishermen, of course, or fisherwomen. They seem like perfectly nice people, although they do dress funny and don't carry hammers. But, they do walk across rocks (cite story 1080) to get to the river, don't they? Seems to me if they just told everybody they were rockhounds, instead of fisherpeople, then their stories would be a lot better when they got home.

We found a few rocks in Colorado on our way to stand by the fish. Here are a few of my favorite little pieces. The big pieces come later.

The collection could not have been gathered without the tolerance and assistance of my partner and love, Jude Biggs, and several of our nieces and nephews, most notably Theira Biggs Fortier, Pat DuBe', and Matt, Kathleen and Michael Reid.

I should also mention our canine assistants on these projects, whose tenures overlapped during this half-century project -- Faucho The Dog, Rocket J. Racoon, Clawdia T.W. Dog, Pearl Faye Spunky Trampolina, Kupenda's Kodi "Bear" Sembogare, Erin's Louis Uno Killarney, PJ's Rosetta Dawn ("Rosie"), and Elmo Elliott. dennis dube