It was late September, 2022. The Missus, the dogs, and I were camping in Farragut State Park in northern Idaho. The weather was beautiful with warm days and cool nights that herald the approach of fall and the reluctant passing of summer. We were there to enjoy nature and celebrate our 30th anniversary. On that day, we decided to drive to the east side of the lake, looking for a way to an isolated campground …
Our trip to Glacier National Park, in which I struggle under the weight of two sleeping dogs and almost succumb to a killer chipmunk.
My trip began with a gambling spirit, and ended with a deep appreciation of history.
I am not the man I thought I was on the inside. I’ve been living a lie.
I had an odd conversation in a Wendy’s parking lot with a guy about Hudson’s “tactical” harness.
In this post I jump ahead to the last day of our trip through five states. The highlight of which was a spectacular tour of Lewis and Clark Caverns.
Looking out over my downed timber, I am confronted with a pressing mystery.
One week. Five states. The Missus, me, and two enormous dogs in a tiny teardrop trailer. Everywhere we went, people asked us the same question.
Every group of friends needs an asshole.
Trying to get my art-career off the ground has been a long and disappointing challenge. It seems I keep getting pushed aside by those with more marketing savvy.
