ANYBODY THERE?
When Tootsie and I were little and living on River Road in Olean we shared a double bed. At night -- don't know for how long this lasted -- we had two ongoing stories we acted out together after lights out. (We also had a radio, on the windowsill that faced the creek I think, that Tootsie mainly listened to -- to shows like "The Shadow Knows," which was darkly eerie.) Anyway, we titled one of our serials "Mushy-ta-gooey." I've never written that down before, but that's the best spelling I can come up with. It concerned all things mushy and gooey that we would dunk people in. We used big vats of stuff. The other story we called "The World's Greatest Shooter." We were two sisters going across-country in a covered wagon. (Many times I've thought I headed West for real because of this story we made up way back then.) I played the sister who usually sat up on the buckboard and drove the horses and covered wagon. That entailed fighting off all kinds of Indians and roughnecks -- thus, "the world's greatest shooter."  Tootsie was the sick sister lying down in the back of the covered wagon. She told me years later that she played the sick sister in the back so she could go to sleep. Meanwhile, I'd be up there on my own, clueless, saving our lives with a rifle. 

I tell this story because sometimes, like now, my blog writing feels to me like driving the buckboard. Where the heck are you all? Your brave but needy sister needs to hear from you! :)