Reporting In

I got back from Idaho a couple of weeks ago. I saw Mom, but there was no visit. No recognition and no response. That was sad. It snowed the morning I left. I saw just about everything and everyone I could in such a short time. I don't really see anyone I know just running around town. I don't know where my acquaintances are, but not many of them were out the day I was there.

Rachel is gone hunting again for a week--again. So I don't hear from or talk to her except to receive texts about poor, defenseless, little animals she's killed. I can only take so much of that. Guess she'll be in the wilds for Thanksgiving. Ruth (her mother-in-law) is caring for the boys. Better her than me. I just can't take them to three different schools, tutoring, scouts, and all of the other activities they have. Thank heaven Ruth will and can. She's younger than I am and was born and raised in Las Vegas. (That's my excuse and I'm sticking to it.)

I think Rick and I are going to Yuma some time over the Thanksgiving weekend. I realize there's not much there, but we have not been so we will sally forth. At least we'll get out of Surprise.

I've been trying to read "Killing Jesus." It is really not enthralling. I liked O'Reilly's other two killing books--Lincoln and Kennedy. I fear I feel nothing at all when I read this one. A very distant and detached report of the government of the day, but no introspection (even fictionally) as to Jesus's character. Hollow! I think he was trying so hard to be politically correct and not offend that he sterilized the story beyond recognition. I am plodding through but very slowly and without enthusiasm.

Have a good Thanksgiving holiday season. Until December...