So sez the sign on an ATM in Limon, Colorado, spotted on the tail end of our five hour drive back from Kansas.
A sunny clear day, the wind blasting across the plains so hard that tumbleweeds became projectiles, and the walk from car to gift shop required a military-style crouch and then a dash across open parking lot, hands over vulnerable eyes, later picking grit out of our ears and bare arms.
This was the West (my home is Seattle which is considered too liberal-left-coasty to be truly Western) where the welcome was genuine, if subdued, and flag couture and lite beer and drawls seemed de rigueur.
There's a shadow constantly hovering at my shoulder. For all my gallivanting into the social whirl, nevermind the positive social media...
Ever wondered what it takes to get a piece of fiction published? I'm not talking New Yorker type of prose. That's a rarefied world ...
Check out my new video, a brief reading from a story published this past spring in Opossum.
Welp, after a half-year experiment in social media, BSP has returned to its blogger roots. I hated Faceborkland, tbh. Sure, it was easier t...