A Long Awaited Howdy

No, I have not fallen off the edge of the earth. No, I haven’t become sick and/or died. No, I haven’t given up creative pursuits.

Yes, I have been busy with Real Life and what I call my own private Money Pit. OH. MY. GOD. I could honestly write a book. Too many odd things have happened, from ghosts to major disasters. Running a bed and breakfast isn’t for the faint of heart. Running a bed and breakfast with your first eight months during a worldwide pandemic is no picnic in the park. The upside is that I now have a million and one ideas floating around. One of these days I will expound, both here and on a much larger scale.

Social media has become so anti-social, I don’t spend a lot of time there. It’s the current political climate, it’s the current unrest, and a deadly virus in the mix is making everyone loopy. That’s why I prefer to shut off the devices at this time.

Just because I haven’t written anything on this blog lately doesn’t mean I haven’t written anything. For one thing, I’m always thinking of writing. I’m anxiously awaiting my edits back from my Editor for Life. He says it’s coming soon. I’m writing in a notebook. This current effort is called Letters Unsent. I write short letters to people in my life and on the world stage, letters I’ll never send because someone will likely lock me up for my thoughts. Or they’ll hate me, unfriend me, or look at me with new eyes. Maybe one day I’ll publish it, probably on my deathbed.

I’m also toying with doing yet another NaNoWriMo, although I could use that time to finish up one of five previous manuscripts that really need to get to the it’s-a-complete-first-draft stage.

Mostly when I’m not working (isn’t it odd that we pick another seasonal business to run, one that settles down into nothing during the winter), I’m walking. My husband has taken to hiking too, quite an achievement since about eight months ago he couldn’t walk in the hills without needing oxygen. So far he’s walked up Pikes Peak twice and another 14’er once. (I mostly hike the lower 12,000 ft. and below elevations. With my chihuahua. Yes, both I and my adventure dog did 8 miles once.)

I use the walking time to embrace the mountains. They are, after all, beautiful. Harsh to a degree. The hills around Cripple Creek are riddled with many small, sharp rocks. You can’t dig an inch without hitting something. They’re quite a tripping hazard too. You really have to watch where you’re going. I don’t know how they dug holes to bury the dead. I know this terrain is the reason they couldn’t grow anything up there. It’s windier than hell, and when the wind blows, it goes right through you, even in the summer. In winter, the wind chill cuts like a knife.

The landscape sweeps before you, wild and mostly untouched. You can see the Continental Divide from the top of Grouse Hill. I spend a lot of time thinking about my main character, Addie. (Yes, she’s an imaginary person, what’s your point? 🙂 ) About how she must have felt seeing the West for the first time after spending all of her life in Ohio. Her tale is not just an adventure of coming of age; she’s a pioneer on the cusp of the start of her life and she doesn’t even know it. If she’s like me, her heart is full of wonderment of what lies before her, both in the land and in her future. The world constantly turns, and with every rotation, there is a new vista, a new opportunity presenting itself.

Modern life is fraught with many perils, most which fall away with a stumbling walk in nature with the wind blowing your hair to bits. Your life might not always be the same. It’ll never be hassle free, if running an inn has shown me. There’s no destination where you’ll find Nirvana. There’s only the journey, the courage to take the next step and keep going, that is all that matters.

Oh yes. I’ll be back.