Being on the road as much as I am sometimes presents challenges. For me, losing track of which day it is, is an ongoing occurrence. It has always been like this, being on the road makes it more so. I think it is Friday when it is Monday or Tuesday when it is Sunday. For the first time in twenty years or so I finally called my best friend, Scott, on the exact date of his birthday. Sometimes I would call as much as a month early or late. It is like that with everyone I know. While living in Taos, I had the weekly reminder of the day of the week when the newspaper would be for sale. Oh the newspaper, it must be Thursday.I constantly look for anchors to orient me. One of my favorites is mashed potatoes eaten in a diner.
