Ringer

I have embraced who I am  – I had to get a ringer for my new phone . . . oh, I forgot to mention the Katana quit, didn’t I . . . . and after looking for something that was so me, I sighed and chose Back Home Again in Indiana.* Okay, quit laughing and stop rolling on the floor. How many times have I told people I have tried all my life to lose Indiana . . . and here I am.

Well, I guess I might as well add it to the jukebox over at the Peanut Butter Cafe & Roadhouse.

* performed by Canadian Brass . . . go figure.

The tempting walk

Leaving from Wal-Mart and looking east, you see a farm house and field. Today it was in a humidity haze. There is something about that view that makes me want to scale the chain link fence at the edge of the parking lot and start walking toward that old homestead. I have no idea of what it looks like up close, and I don’t fantasize a welcoming farmhouse with a kitchen full of canning ladies. Because, if I did, I think I would climb that fence and not look back.

But that is not true . . . becuse leaving people behind is just not good.