Pressure like a drawn bow.

Last you heard from me, we had put a bid on a commercial building.

The bid was flat out refused. Alexe panicked, I pulled on a chess face.

Monday, after some strategic moves, we are within 10k of where I want to be.

At the same time: We found a perfect farm to buy. Just perfect. Location, land, and feeling. Standing on the porch off the kitchen, as we have done in one of our several trespassing trips, I have a calm feeling that reminds me of my grandparent's porch in Vevey. Just wonderful. With a view.

It's not for sale.

But no one lives in it.

The woman is in her 80s, her husband passed away a little over a year ago, she wants to go home, but is unwell and must live in a nursing home. Her three sons haven't done anything with the house for a couple years.

It exudes love, peace, and quiet removed family life. It's perfect.

Were trying.

Add to these two buildings (which we live exactly between, 3 blocks away in opposing directions) Alexe's manuscripts that are out with agents, the seedlings that are popping up in the garden that Alexe wants to baby to death, the pooches that swing between grinning happiness and early morning-under-the-bed retching, the job stress, the community involvement (Alexe is on the Board of the Main Street Project), the warming weather, the car with a cooling system problem, the job stress (again), the southern fish that won't bite on a cold day, the dinner guests, the gray kitchen linoleum that Alexe hates and scrubs every day, the library fines, my new table saw and wheel barrow, and a new (to us) imac g4, we're having a wonderfully busy time.

Something more sooner than later. I wonder how much of my audience I've lost with the long silence.