I’m a pretty serious person most of the time. Like many, I need to be.
I run my own business, I’m responsible for the care of six dogs on my own for most of the day, 10 acres with a house, studio and barns and I also take care of the family finances.
That’s all pretty serious stuff.
Two weeks ago, I went on a trip, not far away to Branson, Missouri, for work. The idea is to experience some of what the town has to offer so I can better write about it.
I signed up, along with two other writers on this trip, for a go-kart adventure one afternoon, something I used to love as a kid, but hadn’t done in a long time. Dale isn’t a go-kart adventure type of guy – he really isn’t into risk taking with much of anything – and even told me to be careful on “those things” before I left.
My go-kart days can be traced all the way back to when I was about 8, visiting my aunt (who now lives down the road) and cousins in the rural Appalachian Mountains in Kentucky.