Writing is a strange thing.  Each time I see that someone has bought a Henry Wood, and they weren’t directly involved in me being born, I am a little bit amazed.  Not because I don’t think Henry is a good book, he is a very good book and I like him a bunch, but because it is still hard to believe that I write at all.

I’ve said it before, but in case you missed it, I hated writing before I started my blog.  I did like telling stories, though.  When I was little, sometimes I would be someone difficult to convince to go to bed.  (Note:  I’m using an interpretation of the word “sometimes” as one that is nearly indistinguishable from “Always”.  It’s called poetic license.)  Every now and again Mom would humor me and hang out for a long while after tucking me in bed.  We would talk and giggle for a really long time.  It was awesome.

I called Mom, as I often do, after I posted last nights blahg drivel.  She is a bit under the weather, so we didn’t talk for too long, but before I let her go, I shared with her my latest “Dream”.  I have many of them and they change like the weather.  One is to spend an entire season with a truck and an airstream, following the Cincinnati Reds baseball season. I did the math and I could make all but five games.  The airstream I want is nearly $70,000 and I figured out the whole budget would be close to $100,000.  Of course, I’d write a book about it and easily recoup $328.00 of my costs.

That wasn’t what I wanted to talk about though.  I’ve always thought it would be cool to have a shipping container house.  Yesterday, I found the place I want to build it.  There is a spot in Colorado where one can buy, for the reasonable price of 2.8 million, an old Titan Missile site.  It has 45,000 square feet and three silos.  It would require some cleaning and then an architect like Bob Borson, to make it a home.  I’ve mentioned this to Bob and I believe he rolled his eyes, as he is quite sure that building a shipping container home on a Titan Missile site, would be the low point of his career.   But Mom listened to my silly idea, just as she always did when I was young, and it was fun.

I like to tell a story or dream of fantastic adventures and Mom is always willing to listen.  Thanks Mom, I hope you feel better soon.  Hug.