Well. Here I am.

This morning's sunrise behind my favorite cottonwood tree

It almost looks as though I'm gradually getting out of blogging, but that isn't my intention.  Morning has always been my time to blog, and there are many mornings our little girl gets here at 5:30 AM.  Don't ever try blogging with any child from ages one to five around... or, in the case of girls, from ages one to infinity, pretty much.  Girls like to talk, and they want 100% of your attention while they're talking.  That isn't every day, though.  The thing is, once I get in the routine of NOT blogging, I forget about it.  

Of course, I forget a lot of things these days. 

I'm not organized, so the old "a place for everything and everything in its place" doesn't work for me.  I'll bet I spend more time hunting for my camera than I spend cooking.  It's only by the power of prayer that I locate anything:  After one of my futile searches in all the likely places, I remember God is right there and ask Him to help me find the object.  Somehow, with very few exceptions, I'll remember what I was doing with the object, or where I was going with it last time I had it, and walk right to it after consulting God.  Cliff thinks it's hilarious that I assume God has no more important things to do than help me find my camera or shoes or purse or iPad, but every time I find something with His help, I whisper, "I give You the credit for this"; not so loud that Cliff hears it, though.  See, I have this running conversation, mostly trivial, with God all day long, so it's only natural I'd ask Him for help.  I also have running conversations with my dog, but he's no help at all.

Gabe was well-behaved, staying mostly in the back seat of the truck, curled up and sleeping

Cliff, Gabe the dog, and I went camping last weekend at Harry Truman State Park, to try out our camper.  We were very much prepared to stay a couple of days.  I even talked Cliff into buying $10 fishing rods, and he dug the old tackle box he had when he used to go fishing out of the attic.  He says he doesn't really like to fish, although it used to be a favorite pastime of his until we moved to the country and he discovered the joy of owning tractors.  I haven't fished since I was a kid.  Ever since I found out people over 65 don't have to have a license, it's been bothering me, because I hate to miss a bargain of any kind.  So, we were ready to fish... and then the rain started the first morning we were there.  It rained, it hailed, it blew; at one point after dark, a guy came and suggested we take cover from the coming 60 MPH winds, but we didn't; we live in a mobile home, and we laugh at 60 MPH winds.  I cooked.  Cliff read a book on his Kindle.  The rain made it seem sort of cozy for a day, but when it was still raining the next morning, we were sick of it and went home.


We learned that the refrigerator, stovetop, and oven in the camper work great.  Oh, and the bathroom worked great!  If we'd been without a bathroom in the camper, we'd have been drenched every time we went to the rest rooms.  The second night we discovered a little leak, which Cliff has since worked on.  I'm a doubting thomas and expect it to still be leaking when it rains again.  Cliff is confident it's fine.  Keep in mind I didn't expect the refrigerator, toilet, and oven to work... but they did.  I used to be SUCH an optimist.  I think I've turned pessimistic in my old age because when the worst happens, you've already expected it, so it doesn't take you by surprise. 

So we still haven't gone fishing.  Cliff hates dressing fish, and only likes to fish if he's catching something.  One of these days I'm going to beg him to take me to Maple Leaf Lake, not far from here, and we can try our luck there.

Who, me?  I NEVER chase cats!