The thing about this country is that when it is wet it is wet. There is nothing you can do. Best stay on the oil. It always catches me by surprise, though, and I think it will get better if I just try again further down. After mudding out three times in a row, I gave up. VSO sat on the roof of the Chev and cranked out a couple of paintings while EDO and I explored a (sloppy) little canyon. Not the day I had planned.
Hi GAO (since the trend for often referenced notables in your blog is to have acquired acronymic labels - in true federal government fashion), your third reader here.
ReplyDeleteI know this is a world in which we get what we pay for but if I could petition for longer posts it would please this small, but steady, faction of your readership. It is true, I no sooner got settled to read one of your recent descriptive musings when it suddenly came to an abrupt end. I was hoping there would be a lengthy description, peppered with your literary wit, describing how you got the mud ladened truck back onto the pavement while your VSO painted happily and EDO ranted with laughter at her dad slinging mud in all directions like a red neck with a six pack of beer! But, alas, I am happy to receive that for which I have paid.
Carry on my friend, always good stuff. THF.
THF,
DeleteWith a comment like that, you move up from third to first. I'll call you R1. Actually, I have had those days--I'm sure you have, too--where I've been unable to take my foot off the gas for fear of stopping in a hole too deep to get out of. At those times, you've got a rooster tail off the back, plenty of mud on the windshield, and you're just trying to keep the whole mess out of the ditch. You might even spill your beer. This week, though, was quite a bit less exciting than that. Most of it was a slow wallow through three inches of snotty, wet Bentonite. I just kept thinking: "With the sun out, it will be dry in an hour."
Thanks for checking in.
GAO