Buck's Girl

We’ve been together a long time, Buck and I. When we met, it got serious fast. Like 5 seconds fast. He fretted about our 14 year age difference. After talking through a lot of whiskey, we concluded if we could get 20 good years, it would be worth doing. He was already nearly 44 and I was 30. The year was 1981. We eloped to Dothan, where Buck had a cousin named Patt with two t’s, who set things up with a county judge. Now he’s 88 and I’m 74. Pretty sure it’s gonna work out.

Nike had a special deal about ten years ago where you could add your own text to a pair of jogging shoes. Buck said, “Go for it,” and so I did. They fit like a squishy bathroom slippers. I love them. Wish they were new again. I’ve always liked the little secret text: “Buck’s” on the left foot, “Girl” on the right.

Last year, I downloaded decades of my old WordPress blog archives, stashed them in the Cloud, and declared “I’m done with blogging.” But here it is, the tail end of this newest January, and it’s driving me a little nuts that I don’t have a WordPress blog anymore.

I have a perfectly adequate space for scribbling thoughts, pasting art journal pages and photos, all that, at OneNote. But, dang it, it’s just not pretty or fun, like this format can be. It’s dull and — I don’t know — somehow disorienting.

And so, I’m back amongst ye, at least for today.