There has been a little drought in writing lately. The ground is dry and cracked. Once fertile river banks have become dry, brown wastelands peppered with dying fish and frogs. My mind is barren and filled with desolation. There is no new growth here. Or I am melodramatic.
I forgot to mention that when Adam and I were in Nashville, we saw Samantha Brown interviewing one of the guys who stands along Broadway playing a mandolin. I have called this guy a street person when I have talked about this experience with my friends, but he wasn’t a street person. He was dressed too nicely, and he was too clean. I think he must have just enjoyed making some extra cash playing his instrument for the tourists.
I was actually hoping we would bump into Samantha at one of the bars or something, maybe Loveless Cafe, but we didn’t. I had my small brush with fame, and I actually would have walked right past if Adam had not said, Is that the woman from the travel channel?
Reason Breeds Insanity 
I LOVE Samantha Brown. Awesome!!!
I, too, am feeling the melodramatic writer’s drought. gag . . . My poor, poor neglected blog . . . I could use a trip to Nashville. I need a place where green has fully arrived.
Perhaps you’ve neglected to realize that the appearance of no growth is itself growth. Growth is any realization of a personal or cosmic truth. Thus, you are growing.
Brown: Totally cool. Wonder if you guys got in the pic somehow. Will try remembering to look for it.