You’ll be pleased to hear Squirty McShitsalot—as Rosie is now known—is doing much better. As I type, she’s lying beside me deep in slumber.
UPDATE: In the time since I wrote this post and when I could find an Internet connection that would allow me to actually post it, little black dog has taken a turn for the squirty. We’ve called it a day early, in beautiful Pocatello, Idaho … in the western foothills of the Rockies. Not to worry, Rose seems fine other than being affected more, uh, dramatically than I anticipated by the long days in the car. I’m thinking a longer break from driving might help her get back to normal. Fingers crossed.
I’m not sure, technically, where Mr. Campbell would place me and my little expedition in his monomyth cycle, but I can attest that my “spiritual center of gravity” has shifted … something fierce, if you must know. And, I admit, I feel pretty corny comparing my move to a Lord of the Rings–type quest, but I’m writing this post from a sketchy motel in Toledo flippin’ Ohio … not so different, really, from traveling through the forest with those scary tree guys.
Day 1 went off with very few hitches, likewise very few blog-able anecdotes. In any case, I’m running on fumes at the mo, with only four hours of sleep last night, so today’s video … well, let’s consider it an outtake reel. Hope you enjoy.
Happy trails.
And so it begins.
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Name's Kirsten. I'm a splitter of hairs, a hillbilly, a rock horns devotee, an ellipses-lovin' fool, and queen of the conceptual jinx. I'm also a geek and the grateful human of littleblackdog. I do this and that and some of the other … up to and including writing this here blog.