blue sky, black coffee

I write the stuff at dreamranch mostly for myself, but a few friends and family members have tuned in.  So, please excuse the sappiness threatening to overtake my entries.

I am battling sentimentality as a I approach treatment for lung cancer. I recognize now that the dreaded tone started creeping into my writing 20 months ago, when I first started feeling odd.

I hope to pull through both — the sappiness and the cancer — and return to more vigorous life and prose. I still hope to  ride like Charles Sampson and write like E.B. White. To say nothing of mastering the telemark turn.