i have trouble typing now, since i cut my finger to the bone pounding a stake on monday. i got eleven stitches, all on the knuckle side of my left pointing finger. now i have trouble typing letters like e r t d f and c which i would normally type with that finger. as i drive it looks to the oncoming cars like i've already said hello, as my finger is pointing out at them just as part of my hanging onto the steering wheel with that hand.

so i have all these writing projects and i'm eager to get going on them, actually in a burst of wanting to write, but i can't. these particular letters come up a lot, and it's a lot slower to hunt and peck with the remaining digits. so i'm in a kind of enforced break.

i still do bog though, as even hunting and pecking, and getting by necessity a lower score, is relaxing. i don't do it for the score. i do it because it calms my nerves.

lots of running around these days, taking kids to town for various sports and such. deer on the road, and elk too. the neighbors tell of bears and cats. coyotes out there too. we keep the pets indoors.

they say it's going to be warm and dry this late september - bad for the western fires, but good for me to push back the lazy-boy, and, even if i get nothing done on the writing, at least get some thinking done. the hunt-and-peck, that's all just words on the page. like these. the sun, always bright in new mexico, ambles across to the west, and it's always just a bit dry anyway, and we're so far out here, even the covid hasn't found us yet. hope it stays that way.