Inside the cabin it was 65°F as I opened my eyes Sunday morning — as cool as the outside temp, thanks to a parade of storms that rolled through overnight. Because it was still raining when Smudge went on the day’s first business trip, she was wet and chilled when she came back in.
She hopped into the living room chair, curled up and looked at me. I took the hint, covering her with one of her tattered fleece blankets.
She let out a long, contented groan and closed her eyes. She knows.
That this Heeler chose me is one of the best things about my life — maybe the best thing. I’ve been able to give her stability and consistency she’d never had, along with commitment that’s unquestioned.
Smudge is a very perceptive dog. She watched me with Scout for over two years. A promise is a promise. She knows.
I mean, if I say “love” and it’s not forever, then all I’m doing is killing time waiting for a better offer. It’s not in me to do that.
I’m all-in for Miss Smudge.
The Mountain shimmered as we rolled down the road yesterday morning. Bushclover, still heavy with rain, leaned in from the roadside, making it feel even narrower than it is.
We were off to Flippin, eight days since the last time I went out for groceries. Back-filling seemed like the right thing to do — I wanted to begin Divorce Week with a full larder, even if it meant having a little less liquid cash on-hand. (Either you get that or you don’t.)
The visit to Walmart went pretty much like it usually does. Smudge retreated to the passenger-side floor only while the attendant was loading my purchases into the back seat.
As we turned off of the subdivision road, I paused to look up at Hall Mountain’s eastern ridge. A patch of bronze on its lower flank caught my eye.
Autumn will be here tomorrow.
I believe I’ll remember and relive Saturday night’s video call with my high-school classmates for quite a while. It was special. It’ll stick with me.
Some things stood out.
“I’ll be praying for you.” I can’t tell you how many times I heard that, but it was a lot. Word had gotten around about my situation, probably when folks who already knew explained my absence from the gathering. The concern was genuine. The intercession is welcome.
“You’re an inspiration to all of us.” I learned that a surprising number of my classmates follow this blog. “I read it with my morning coffee every day.” My willingness to be candid about my circumstances has reached people I hadn’t anticipated it would. It’s touched and encouraged folks in unexpected ways. That makes this old man smile.
“I love you.” This wasn’t a throwaway line. It wasn’t reflexive. The words were spoken to me from the heart, from a shared and singular experience, echoing a moment in time. Fifty years on, they rang like a bell, clear and true.
I am so very fortunate.
“Charlie died far too early. He was also ready to die. There was nothing, nothing he was putting off. There was nothing that was too hard or too painful, nothing that he just felt like he didn’t want to do. He left this world without regrets. He did 100% of what he could every day. But I want you to know something: Charlie died with incomplete work, but not with unfinished business.“
Erika Kirk
I watched the last few hours of Charlie Kirk’s memorial service Sunday afternoon, held before a capacity crowd. Honestly, I’ve never seen anything quite like it — a phenomenon, the convergence of tragedy, ideology and faith.
It was powerful, touching, and at times profoundly moving.
Between JD Vance and Erika Kirk, I took Smudge out. Rain was beginning to fall. We had dinner while Trump was speaking.
Any rational, thoughtful person on the Left — if such a person still exists — would be sobered by what they saw and heard. From my perspective, it made me proud.
I’ve heard no reports of disturbances, no incidents. There was a pathetic handful of protesters outside the stadium, but as far as I know, that was it.
We’ll see where it all goes from here.
PS: Between the podium and shots of VIP seating, we saw POTUS, VPOTUS, virtually the entire cabinet, the House Speaker and probably a third of Congress. Was there a “designated survivor” like they do during the SOTU? How big was the no-fly zone? What kind of combat air patrol was deployed? I have questions.
Take care of yourselves, Patriots. Stay calm. Stay sharp. Stay free.
#WiseUp #LibertyOrDeath #Ungovernable