60 days, gee whiz it�s been 60 since I posted last. You�d think there would be some sort of shock therapy available for things like that.I read here daily. I read everything daily, creature of habit that I be.
But living in the swampland means that by the time all that reading is exhausted you�re much too mellowed out to compose much of anything yourself. Out here, watching grass grow takes a helluva lot out of a man.
I started here, Diaryland that is, about a month before 9/11. That�s precious close to 6 years, and an agony of change for a nation and a lone outlaw. I�m not quite sure what to make of that. 6 years is an eternity in Diaryland. It runs more slowly now. Sometimes not at all. I renewed my membership last fall and they took all my picture storage space away, as if discovering that Outfoxed was running up a tab with no quarters on the bar, or something. Seriously, I had about three-quarters worth of picture space on tap and after I renewed, I was overdrawn.
Thus, no pictures.
And it takes pictures to tell this story, more often than not.
A couple (okay, a fair number) of you old-timers have jumped the good ship D-Land and headed for smoother waters, and I suspect that would be best for me as well. I�d be obliged, and very grateful, for a comment down yonder if you�d like to get hitched to a blogroll. On a blog about living in a place that�s full of tractors, babies, struggles and misplaced dreams and fierce rainstorms. It will be hugely both more personal than this spot and yet selective, I suspect, because family will be reading. And it�ll have pictures of crawdads. And drywall tools.
I got one more Outfoxed entry in me. It�s a love story, of course, because I don�t go out well or gracefully by writing about concrete or deer running at midnight across the swamp road nearby.
But you never know, I just might.
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