Musie,
Stop it! I received another book yesterday. Thank you, but please stop it! That’s the third book this week from you. Don’t you know that that’s like a year’s worth of reading for me? Don’t you know I’m already knee-deep in reading poetry?
Well, I suppose I could probably knock out all three of these tomes in a month if I took a four-week vacation to somewhere quiet, somewhere wooded and mountainous and without screens or clocks. Hmmm, perhaps a retreat! I can feel one coming on. It may be good for me; some climbing and hiking and fresh air and exploring, sketching, some getting lost and building a fire every night and pressing my back against a hot mountain-stone hearth. I’ll start packing. And don’t worry, this time I’ll throw the crutches in the back of the truck just in case. I’ve been stuck out there alone before.
I’ve been working on editing lately. I know you don’t want to hear any more of editing but it’s got to be done. I’m gathering, compiling, stitching stuff together. I had to build a new shelf last week! Oh, and I’ll be packing the sewing machine too. From all the pages I’d normally throw away or use as kindling I’m making a snazzy cape or cloak! I’ve got some bee’s wax on the way and I think I can make it somewhat waterproof. And if not, well, then I’ll have some paper-mâché armor to don next Halloween. Trick or treat! I can hear old Mrs. Pitter down the street now, “What are you supposed to be?” To which I’ll answer, “I am the ghost of discarded poetry,” or “A knight in shining prose.” Ha! I think I’ll make it a cape with a short collar, nothing outrageous, something I could wear to Walmart or to the local cafe. I already have a brooch picked out. Bronze.
Oooh, this could be the year, Musie! Please don’t bury me in reading. I’ve got work to do! And so do you. When I return next, may I address you as Editor? That would be swell.
-PSL
P.S. I’ve been dreaming quite hard again. Last night I dreamt that the grey-faced bear charged me but stopped short. The black wolf-hound had my back and the lady of the farm let me in just in the nick of time. Well, I think she meant to let her dog in but I slipped in along with it, with the understanding of course that I’d be helping with the chores.