First, let’s try some gratefulness: two day ago this quixotic collection of meandering ruminations surpassed 100 hits and has already climbed to 130. Thanks to all of you who have kept up, who have followed and who have popped in. I am surprised, bashful and delighted in equal parts. I never expected to win even this much acclaim by tilting at windmills. I shall have to step my game up. (I’ll be tilting at aircraft turbines next. I’ve never met a damn-fool-thing-to-do that didn’t attract me.)
Gratefulness is appropriate because I’ve been living under a certain pallor for the last week and I had, for at least a few hours, that weight lifted this eventide. Anyone who’s been here recently, or with the foolhardiness to click on the archives, can tell my posts have suffered under a heaviness of heart and spirit; I’ve just been incapable of summoning any mirth out of my depth this last week. Until tonight — and I grant you that a few poor Don Quixote jokes should not be taken for the blush of spring — I got out to a decent AA meeting along with some decent people. It meant the world to me, I’ve been struggling.
And you, oh reader, have meant a lot to me, too. I am honored to place my pen in your service.