Turbulent winds have blowing through Arf World this week. The wind storm seems likely to continue for a while. Everything from plumbing issues inside the homestead slab (40+ year old concrete) to a dazzling array of personal drama from every middle-aged child in the mix. The grand kids, critters and I are huddled beneath holey plastic bags, praying for a breath of fresh air while the concrete dust kicked up by the jack hammers stirs continually through the grown-up dramas.

Ouch?

Maybe I am just lost in metaphor again, but I don't think I have enough attention span to cover all the details. I am trying to keep it literal but. . . Yes, Mister Twain. "Of course fact is stranger than fiction. Fiction is obliged to make sense."

I am trying to just breathe to one of my recent favorite mantras:
Small steps, big faith and lots of prayer.

Just an update. . . Prayers appreciated.