So since last July, I have been free to drift.
And drift I have.
The joy of not having to produce another 800 words of copy for tomorrow, and the day after tomorrow, has not yet lifted.
A daily column that drips for decades seriously taps a tree.
But there is snow on my kayaks. It's a long winter.
And I confess here and now... I was not ... born to blog.
It's not that opportunity hasn't knocked.
Fall brought a radio gig query, an echo of my 1980s.
A long-time TV bud flattered me with work bait.
I said no to both.
If I'm going to work my butt off in public again, I want something odd, something funny, something strange, something peculiar.
An idea that--hopefully--will make other people laugh.
Yes, I will serve you when it's ready.
It's here. I may even write about it.
Just one word for you, a clue if you will since you are pals, here the very day that project begins. That word is ... Boot.
It came together this morning.
I now have a workbox labeled ... Boot.
It will take about six months.
Last week I wuz lost, in serious December funk.
But this morning, I wuz found.
My idiot grin came back...
In the first quarter moon of this bright, new year.
It shines on you too. So grin, darn it.