“You made sourdough English Muffins today.” Scooter is observant.

SEVENTY! Seventy times now, my mom and I have posted news about my life

 “It wasn’t funny, Mom.”

“I thought the Ciabatta was your favorite” I said.

“It was.”

“What happened?”

“You guys are a fluid feast of salt, protein, and stuff,” said he

 If the above paragraph resonates with you, if you can hardly wait . . .

I’m a cooperator. Got it. I’ll get us home

My mom and I were playing catch in Otis’s back yard. My mom’s a terrible tosser.

I should tell you about all the reasons people visit Santa Fe

“The picture you see here from Santa Fe is me, laying in a bed of clover,”

I’m in Santa Fe.

“Still, it was pretty funny,” said Scooter. “Until I hear you say that bad word.”

Have you ever smelled California’s Central Valley? Oh my! It is glorious.

I very nearly started to tell you about the massive jet tub that occupies a third of the suite’s space.

 “May I share the video of your Bootie walk?”

“I’m glad you didn’t have your camera handy.” We are reminiscing, Scooter Sublime and I.

“I don’t know how to explain it,” I said.

“Don’t explain,” Scooter urged. “Describe it.”

 “I need to tell you something, Scooter.”

Did you see that, Mom?

“I saw that.”

“Were you watching?”

“I was.”

“But you’re not watching now.”