Stuck

Well, at least the Ford got its work done before deciding to screw off. I mowed the lower meadow this afternoon, and on my way back to the barn, the Ford got stuck in the mud in a low area below the spring I call The Swamp. Since it doesn't have "ag tires" on it (the kind with big cleats you usually see on tractors) but rather has "turf tires" that are more like car tires, it has basically no traction in mud. I unhooked the mower and tried to drive the thing out, but it's stuck. Scruit, I left it there until the mud dries a bit or until I feel like carting a wagonload of gravel down there for traction.

I spent quite a bit of time in IM today with several people... a tall, quirky attorney in New Jersey who seems to want to meet me but with whom I can't seem to coordinate a time, and an even quirkier fashion executive elsewhere in New Jersey who seems to delight in telling me all the ways the other guys she meets on Match deceive her. Yet even while talking to these two, I found myself thinking about the woman in San Francisco.

Let's call her... hmmm... Martha. She's sent some quite remarkable emails, and I find myself trying to figure out how to arrange meeting her. I wonder what her house is like, whether she'd like the cats. I really like the times like this, the times when anything seems possible... the times before you know someone has stuff growing in their bathroom sink, or that they don't know how to sing, or that they don't like butter.

Anything can happen. Anything at all, and it's fun to speculate. And plan. And maybe scheme... how to persuade someone to leave the west coast and come to the Blue Ridge? Or decide whether I could let the Blue Ridge go.

I am feeling depressed just even considering that second prospect.