Scorpion, pecs and biceps . . . oh, my!

No one warned me they didn’t have high-speed internet in the desert.

Between that, the seventeen species of scorpions that terrorize this part of the state, and the insufferable electrician/plumber/carpenter/mechanic who can’t seem to keep his shirt on, I don’t know how I’m supposed to get anything done here!

I need an escape from my grief, and possibly my life in general. And I can’t think of a better place to run away than my fabled namesake, the hippie-dippy remote west Texas desert compound known as Ivydell.

Not that I’m running away. I’m simply taking a brief hiatus. I’ll be back.

It's not like some shirtless guy with a scorpion tattoo is going to change my whole life.