Rain wakes me at 7 a.m., the day before Christmas. I decide to read Joan Didion with coffee. She died yesterday. Later I will read Slouching Toward Bethlehem . This morning I choose her essay on Ernest Hemingway, Last Words.
There will be fried potatoes and green chile for breakfast.
Cowboy ate his kibble and found a warm place in my bed.
dream ranch 
Merry Christmas to you and Cowboy, John. All the best to you in the new year. Your posts are well done. Keep ‘em coming.