"And you may find yourself 
living in a shotgun shack ..."

Been out of touch the last couple weeks, ranch-sitting in Wyoming, and now traipsing across the East Coast. In less than a week I'll be headed to Gen Con in Indy for the big event of the year, and then it will be back to Colorado to get caught up on my clean living.

In the last 2 weeks we've branded cattle, stayed in a colonial house in old Nantucket, paddled off the coast of Maine, fixed windmills, and now I'm headed to the convention of the year to run games and signings. 

I'm dumbstruck by my good fortune. This isn't me, this isn't my life. To be surrounded by people I love, and to have the privilege to travel and stay at these places just seems out of synch to me. There's something to be unearthed here, but I only notice it when I'm away.  

There is a very familiar part of me that is much better suited to simple things: downing trees with an axe and saw, riding home in the back of a pickup truck. Sophistication doesn't come naturally to me, so I demonize is to preserve my sense of self, when really what is called for is growth. This is the curse and blessing of the country boy.

And of course, this is true of everyone, in every time. Your strengths are your weaknesses.

I know I'm not making much sense, but it's a blog, so that's fine. Consider this my postcard from the beach, a bewildered note from the wilderness of one man's mind. 

"And you may ask yourself
How do I work this? 
And you may ask yourself
Where is that large automobile? 
And you may tell yourself
This is not my beautiful house!
And you may tell yourself
This is not my beautiful wife!"



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