MEANWHILE, BACK AT THE RANCH . . .

Cowboys_on_horseback_at_a_northern_California_cattle_ranch,_ca.1897-1900_(CHS-2019)
. . . I am back on track with my writing course.

Having survived the holidays without killing anyone (now that is a Christmas miracle), I feel all warm and fuzzy about returning to normal life. Not that there is anything remotely resembling a normal life waiting for my return, but if there were, I’d feel warm and fuzzy about it. Instead, I have had to calm the hell down about my own artistic crisis in order to assume the mantle of the Family Matriarch to deal with some real family crisis.

Two points here. One, I am not old enough to be “in charge” of the family. Two, even if I were, I do not volunteer to assume this lofty position. The Matriarch should be someone with compassion and wisdom. Someone who has lived a good and meaningful life in the service to others. Not some nut-job who dreams of becoming famous for thinking up twisted ways to kill people. But no one else is stepping up, so there you have it.

And this is why God made Mimosas.

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