I have had some difficulty writing here the last few months because I sense I am walking on a slippery path and am worried and worn down and tired of so many things – and afraid. But I’ve been keeping it in the back room, not wanting to alter the image of the Peanut Butter Cafe & Roadhouse. And, having written this wee bit, I find my thoughts not organized in any sort of path, but floating around at odds with themselves in a marsh. I can’t really see a bridge and I don’t know if I am up to slogging through. Oh, I know I can force myself a few steps forward, but I have no confidence I will keep going and not just sit down in the muck.

I just wrote a very telling paragraph about my character flaws – and, by God, I deleted it because, well, it was kind of ugly. I decided just knowing it was enough – to heck with seeing it staring me right in the face.

Well, crap, I’ve disgusted myself with my whining and that has at least given me enough motivation to slap myself and and consider getting a tall pair of boots to use in the muck, and maybe a shovel.

I could delete this whole thing but some things I have to know and so do you if you want to trust the peanut butter here.