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A hunk of land

A hunk of sand enclosed in a fuming wintry mass of saltwater was my promised land.

Designing perfect houses, drawing ridiculous cartoons, rendering landscapes and writing chapters from my imagination defined my being. With my own true scholarly love.

I passed those frigid months indoors with mounds of quilts, roaring hearth fires and gallons of deep hot chocolate. No amount of bitter winds, knee high snow or windows of empty neighboring homes could keep me from basking in contentment. Singular days flowed easily into alliances of time that alleviated any shape of gloominess. Even though obstinate weather schemed to bury my passionate objectives, my productivity soared to fresh heights as completed home designs; beautiful illustrations, hilarious musings and a profusion of passionate pages flew from my pen.

Where is this fabulous land you say? I'll not say as too many intrusions on its delicate surface mar the intended nature of its Devine purpose.

I'll not say as you may bring with you those souls who take, never to appreciate, but to sour its loins for the scholarly and the creative.

I'll not say because I am selfish, for I am here and you are not.

Here's my little Lhasa Apso dog, Sadie. She is four and of course she is smart. She was going to be a show dog, but the breeder's husband said, "If I have to babysit one more dog..." So the breeder sold her. To me.

We go for walks every day except when it's raining too hard. I am in my power wheelchair and Sadie is out front leading the way. I let her stop whenever she wants and sometimes I think she smells every leaf of every bush that strikes her fancy.

But eventually we are homeward bound and calmly fit ourselves into our crowded garage. We both love the walk and submit to its end knowing we can do it again tomorrow.

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