It has now been 11 days since my mom died, and it has been 11 days since I wrote anything here. I decided that I would write something today, because well, 11 is one of my favorite numbers. Those who love to count and like numbers will understand, yup.

Myla is sitting on the dining room chair across from me, growling and looking out the South window here. So I got up and, I see why she is growling. There is a fella across the channel fishing. He is wearing snow boots and a hoodie. We got oh, I guess about 6 inches of snow. Can't keep the fishing people away. The channel is really moving in the last few days, so I am thinking that the fish are also there. Fishing must be that, whisper in one's ear, that is telling you, gotta get to fishing. My friend, Sawyer hears it all the time, he tells me. If he doesn't fish multiply times a week, both night fishing in his air boat for carp or whatever it is he fishes for, or fishing during the day with his dog Bo on the flowage waters he lives on, he just has to fish. Maybe it is like an addiction. The fish chant is constant. I never had that. Maybe I hear the woods calling me. I have to wander and such.

I am listening to Sheryl Crow right now. She is on the TV, no less. I was surfing to find something to have on in the background. She and her band are performing at the "Artist's Den." Don't know where that is. She has been playing some of her older songs. She is good.

Well, folks, don't have much more to write about. I haven't been sleeping very well for awhile now. So I haven't been getting too much done on my task list, and that is alright. I will get back at it eventually. Peace within yourselves. Take Care. Be Safe. Over and out.