Or: Swipe Left, Plant Tomatoes

My friend Harry called me Tuesday afternoon to check in and see how I’m adjusting to life in Colorado.
“Just fine,” I said. “Loving the weather, the mountain views. And down here where I live, the temperatures are finally right for my vegetable garden.”

“Now, that’s just fine, he said. “Are you meeting any local people? Any women?”

No, I admitted… I really don’t get out much to socialize, and I’m not even sure of where to go if I did. In fact, I was considering signing up for one of those online dating sites—Matchbook or Disharmony—I don’t remember what they’re called off the top of my head, but I’m thinking about it.

Just pump your brakes on that one my friend, that’s the last thing you want to do!

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30 May 2025

Trafficking in Colorado

My friend Harry called me the other day to see how I was doing and getting used to the mountains and all that. I said “I’m ok now but last week was rough, I tell ya” (thanks to Rodney Dangerfield). He said what’s the problem?

“Don’t know where to begin” I said, “but I’ve had an idea about trafficking in Colorado.”

Alarmed, Harry said, “what!? You could get in major trouble buying legal weed there and driving it down to tight-ass Texas to sell it.”

Took a moment for what he thought I said versus what I meant to sink in.

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This isn’t a blog, not really.

It’s a front porch.
Not the kind with paint that still shines, but the kind that’s been through some seasons. Maybe a creaky rocker or two, a breeze if you’re lucky, and always room for one more chair.

If you’ve ever sat in the quiet and just let your thoughts breathe—well, you’re already in the right place.

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