Two days ago, the Ides of March tackled me face-first into the red clay dirt of Alabama.
Then, those devious Ides threw me in a sack of rocks and tried to fling me into the nearest swollen creek.
Somehow, I squiggled out before wet met sack and survived. Mind relatively intact, heart still whole.
The short of the story is this…
My 17-year old, four-legged and furry muse had a TERRIBLE night on the 14th, leading to TERRIBLE decisions having to be considered.
Miraculously, a swift recovery for dog arrived with the dawn. Unfortunately, the nut-in-charge’s recovery was not nearly so speedy.
Hence, blog silence for two days.
Apologies for that… and for the next days of quiet as I head down to Tampa Bay to meet my potcake puppy.
Blessings certainly abound this beautiful Sunday, but the old brain is still smelling the musty scent of rock-filled sack.