Slidin'

Some days, you plow the south 40, churn the milk, whip the horses, rip one off with the old lady on the floor, and still have enough energy to humiliate the boys at 9-ball down at the local waterin' hole.

Other days, watching the breeze seems ambitious enough.

I'm having one of those latter days today. Mostly I've been watching the leaves dance along the path. It's enough for me.

Tomorrow, my nose will be back at the American Dream grindstone.