I stepped out onto my little porch this evening, to caress it with a puff of smoke, and realized how dead it feels. Yea it's quiet, private and safe, but theirs no vibrancy, no life.

Sometimes I feel like I'm the only one really living on this street. Since I landed here going on six years ago I've had some great drives around the country, two cruises, been to Belize three times, and Roatan twice.

I had an epic drive across America to hang with my boy in Seattle one Summer, while Brian and I hooked up there recently and did the NorthWest by car, fed the homeless in downtown Portland, and attended my grand-daughters first birthday.

My truck knows the routes between my place and Atlanta, Pensacola, and Tampa, well.

My heart was broken midway through this southern adventure, but I carried on, and for a guy in his late seventies, I've done alright!

But it's all catching up to me now. My physical health is quicky matching my monetary health, and both are bouncing on the bottom. Maybe I have one more great adventure in me, Omaha, NB.