Rain in Kentucky, which gives more depth to the pleasant aroma of oak lumber in this rural warehouse. Living the dream of exporting something real and exclusively American to the world. We drive nearly all night to rise again in the same country, but immersed in a different culture, where native American and immigrant Americans have sired tobacco plantation wealth and speak a dialect twangy and saccharine. People move more slowly and eat more heartily here, expediting an earlier coronary demise. To hear stories of the wah-wah (Civil War) and moonshine tales.
The blending of commerce and culture sing to me. I yearn to expand this adventure to seek new venues with more colorful cultures and crafts. This is my dream, a vision long cast, kept on hold while parenthood dues are paid. The debt nearly rendered for the gift of my blessings, it is time to produce the stepping stones necessary to bargain in the souks of the world, trade stories, and treasures.
Racing toward the sun, away from the storms that held us back, new vistas beckon and call for exploration, people to meet, and the chance to master new knowledge and skills. This also starts the holy month of Rajab. It came with a special sliver of a moon we saw as we escaped the storms. Peace!