October 18, 2003
For the second time in the past three months I’ve seen the phrase “Our galloping history” to describe America’s past. I’m going to work that into an upcoming editorial.

Worked yesterday on the foil stamp (the etching type image that appears on the actual hardcover of the book). Came home for lunch yesterday and did two scratchboards of Billy’s Backyard Ballet (see our True West article for this gunfight - click here), but not sure if it’s clean enough. May do several more this weekend.

Finally had time to do a blog for the Arizona Republic. They planted my jowly mug in this morning’s paper and if you’d like to see my take on the Rush Limbaugh imbroglio, you can go to pluggedin.azcentral.com and take a gander. The headline, “Limblaugh, blaugh, blaugh,” is quite clever and I didn’t think of it. I’m guessing Phil Boas who is the editor of this new experiment. Speaking of Phil, we have a new clipping service and they have turned up his editorial piece on Vera McGinnis in the Fort Huachuca and Pendelton, Oregon newspapers. Pretty amazing.

The True West girls all went bowling last night so I had the house to myself. At dusk I went for a walk with the dogs down to the creek. Buddy immediately ran off, and the next thing I hear are yelps of panic and pain. I ran through the creosote bushes to see both Peaches and Buddy running around this mesquite thicket and barking. From inside the thicket I hear low rumbling grunts. It sounded other worldly and at first I was afraid it was a mountain lion or big cat. I’m clapping my hands and yelling at both dogs to come, all the while running closer. All of a sudden, Buddy comes flying out of the thicket with a javelina right on his tail. Now, of all times, Buddy decides to come to me, bringing along his new “friend.” I size up the situation in a heartbeat and turn to run. I’m hauling cheeks (as we used to say back in the twentieth century when I was on the track team) only at this stage of my life, even though I'm flailing my arms and legs, I’m moving about the speed of a retiree in a hearing aid line.

Fortunately, the javelina and Buddy spun off and took another route up past the cave. As I caught my breath it became deathly still. I had visions of both dogs being drug into a javelina lair by their necks and plopped on a big, long buffet table. I called and called, but no one came.

So I went back to the house, popped a beer and watched TV.

Not really. The dogs finally came and we hightailed it back across the dry creekbed and up to the house. Buddy jumped in the pool, swam a couple laps and gave me that look that says, “Man, I can’t wait to go back there and do that again!” I opened some wine (cabernet) and read until I fell asleep.

Before I dozed off, I realized my doctor would thump my bottom for the above behavior.

"According to a brand new study by Italian scientists, eating one or more entire pizzas a week dramatically reduces the chance of getting cancer. Mainly because it's hard to get cancer after dying from a heart attack."
 —Conan O'Brien