The Hideout

Along about the seventh day of our time off I was trying to remember why we should go back to the Pucker Brush anyway. It certainly wasn’t the standing ankle deep in suckish mud while caliche dust simultaneously caked your eyes. Or trying to remember the Spanglish for ‘Slow yer ass down.’ Or tieing the garbage to the generator so it wouldn’t blow off toward Lubbock. You know it is time

Continue reading Another – Dispatch from the Secret Hideout