Thursday, August 4, 2011

Excuses from the old Gas bag

Just  a line or two to let you know I'm still among the living. Cranky as all get out, but still here. Genie, my wonderful wife, is about to sweep me out the door to get me moving. I'm in a terrible slump and grouchy. Summers are suppose to be spent in such wonderful---and cool--places as Yellowstone Park, or thereabouts, where sneaky trout are hiding in wonderfully cool and inviting streams.  Or maybe wandering around in some weedy, long ago abandoned grave yard looking for an ancestor whose name I have just found in some moldy old records. You know, exciting things like that.
 Even my Memoir writing has been suffering from neglect. Speaking of my memoir, I've decided to break it up into two and maybe three items, it's right at 170 pages now. Gassy old bugger--but slow. I've been working on it, off and on, for the last fifteen years.  You read that correctly, fifteen years. You weren't aware that my middle name is Procrastination were you? Well you are now.


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