Drafts Lost and Found

(I found some drafts on my dashboard and decided to post them.  Wonder if I'm missing the reasons they were stuck in drafts.) 

My blog will no longer allow me to type a post, only a title. That makes no sense. The keyboard comes up but no cursor. Ever. No matter how long I wait.  So I am now typing a note and will email it to my blog where it will go into drafts for publishing later. Why bother, you ask. Because I am sitting in my tube on the banks of the river and know that I can enjoy nature and tech worlds simultaneously if I can just work past the garbage. At least signing in is simpler here than on FB because my iPhone remembers better, and my FB password is so long since the hacker that I can't remember it without my Rolodex.

Here come late tubers, young couple, oops take that back, young man and cougar, each with a dog, standard and mini, her pale gray roots showing where the red ends. Upstream my nephew's son lifts and places rocks to improve a channel for multiplying rapids. This activity substitutes for the weightroom he misses at home as part of his prep for football season. The next school year is right around the corner even though the calendar says June. His grandfather calls to him from the porch, but the physical activity and girls in bikinis distract him. I suspect when the teen appetite kicks in he will have only his hunger for his focus. The next tube has a friend of mine so we chat hello. The girls are with her and describe my family guy as they float nearer. A mom comes next and asks me how old he is. When I tell her his age she says perfect because the girls are a year younger. Little threat, I read between the lines, but downriver they go, never to meet on dry land.

I stopped to email this note to myself for insurance, no point to risk an accidental delete or plunge into the water.  I may be live blogging but must qualify this as delayed live blogging since I send it to drafts on my dashboard. 

If anyone wants an instant update, nephew's son went up to dinner prepared by his grandpa, no floaters in sight this late June evening, summer tanager singing his heart out, new family throwing rocks, sun behind trees, young dad and his daughter crossing to fish, and me sweating/glowing, evening breeze beginning to slide up the river.