Sunday, September 28, 2003

Reflections can be distorted, even in a luxury bumper.
I was thinking of Spongebob when he tells time traveling
Squidward, "Everything is chrome in the future."

A difficulty that arises from publishing Chicken Blog is that, on occasion, I may write something that is misconstrued or misinterpreted or simply a miss. And the conclusions that may be drawn are not necessarily from what I have written, but what I have not written. I can't say that I regret anything I have written, because I have endeavored to be fair, honest and open, even at the expense of my own pride.

I do feel a little petty about what I wrote over my frustration with the auction; all is resolved. I stand by my initial sentiment that the organizing was botched, and it was genuinely aggravating for there to be so little communication. Oh well. Mr. Sutro came through, PBS came through, and I rode in the country and saw cows and farms and the brown stubble of grazed and parched hills. I gathered sage, and books, and came home with pie for my boys. And I was reminded, once again, that every one of us has a story, and a life that is often times fuller and more complex than the rest of the world may realize.

I do not want to censure my deep thoughts and musings, though on some level I do. There are obviously feelings and details that I do not share. I remain sincere, though sometimes discreet. I think I should let the issue of leaving our Rancho, choosing our new home, and sorting through emotions and struggles, sit for awhile. It may be that these subjects are too consuming, and raw. It may be that I need to sit still, and just see what comes, without trying to navigate each turn, anticipate every road block. Our destination will find us. I'm going to enjoy the ride.

Kicking back on my day in the country.

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