Several friends / readers have asked me lately some version of Hey Bathtub Lady -- did you drown? Thank you for asking. I'm still breathing but have drowned in a way, in not one but two heavy and overly ambitious blogs that are a long way from being finished. (This plus the full-time work, the farm and the horses, and of course, having so many of my daughters at home.)
And to think I recently announced I wasn't going to blog again unless I thought up something "fun and funny." No such luck with the two behemoths I've got in the hopper at the moment. Sometimes I feel the ghost of Edward Abbey following me around, reading a particular set of lines from Desert Solitaire: "Roy's expression saddened ... He looked away and into the emptiness, thinking again; the smoke from his forgotten cigarette rose slowly into the haze beneath the ceiling." [And here, Ed's crotchety ghost voice, about the last one a woman wants to hear when she's sunk into the bathtub, adds extra emphasis aimed especially at me.] "Stop that, I wanted to tell him. Stop that thinking."
Tonight I write with plans to publish some lighter, shorter fare, more regularly. Look for a simple update on the horses and the farm tomorrow (or maybe the day after). Other ideas are getting jotted down under the heading "Edward Abbey Might Actually Approve."
