have I told you lately that I love you?
No. I know I haven’t.
I’m packing for Blissdom.
The tattoo feels like a puddle of superglue on my back. Serves me right, you say? Yes it does, I say.
Somewhere between zero and 80 inches of ice plans to snap this property like brittle, so we’re getting out of here – heading on to Louisiana, then to Alabama, where the stars fall, so they say.
From there, I’ll drive to Nashville. I’ll report as I can. A post or three will still appear, and then I , as usual, will disappear.
I see you when you come here, and you’re like a backbone to me sometimes, whether that’s good or not – like a habitual friend who visits on the porch, a rocking chair friend, who brings the fly swat and the sweet tea.
I wish I could make you a casserole and some cookies, but truth be told, I’m horrible at taking casseroles to my neighbors anyway,
but I do love you,
virtually, really, truly.
I can’t wait to tell you more of my adventures from the South.