Grumpy about aging knees etcetera after a walk with Cowboy and taking a mental health break from CNN/Ukraine, I try for escape with the romantic conclusion of Longmire but it turns out it’s time for someone’s dinner.
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 …
dream ranch 