Thursday: Living.

The immortal words of Cowgill have been streaming through my head: I've failed you. To most anyone, that would have no leverage, no pull, no nothing. But to me it's a cringe inducing voice to hear, but one so loaded with sentiment and weight. It feels apropos to fight back just as I used to, insisting to Bob that of course he hadn't failed me, quite the opposite.

So here I sit, reflecting on my entire inactivity. My failure to produce anything in the past three days. I failed Monday and Tuesday. And Wednesday. For some reason I couldn't bring myself to write anything. Perhaps it was the snow. Or maybe it was because my brain was stuck on other things. And since I told myself I'd be accountable this year, that I would at bare minimum produce a small thought each day, my conscience has taken over.

And here I am; Making-up for/explaining my lost time but not necessarily making-up for insight. Maybe breaks are good. A sabbatical, hiatus. (What would the plural form of hiatus be?) Not a failure.

Anyhow, I have been busy. I don't feel bad in the slightest. I have been living. Holding accountable to yet another promise I've made. Get out and live your life.

Here, in brevity, is what I have been up to, learned, experienced discovered.

I started dreaming again.

My father started reading my blog. Welcome. And while it's fine and good that he does, it's a strange adjustment. I promised myself I would in no way edit my posts for anyone or anything. And I won't. What I have found is that it has changed our conversation course: He already knows what I'm going to say, as if reading my mind, and completes my sentences.

The cabin is my favorite place I have ever been. In my life. I could spend the rest of my life in the Beaver House and be entirely content.

I won Mexican Train and lost $40 at a casino

My mother won a meat raffle and chose bacon. What a good woman.

In jest I have said I will spend more time in sports bars. Last night I ended up at a place called Sports Page. You connect the dots.

If you consider how and why you do things, spontaneity may be lost. The possibility of coincidence, of chance. Allow yourself to stray. Go off track for a while. But reflect on the diversion. Chances are it was entirely worth it.