In my case, it is the latter. Life has been neither quiet nor peaceful of late.

Some marvelous road trips to Memphis and New Orleans gave me the chance to enjoy some vivid images from the everyday and to bask in the warmth of big-souled hosts, and a very brief stopover in Houston let me reconnect with some figures from my oh-so distant past.

I composed a booklet (“Supersonic”) to shine a little light on what Mary and I experience as bullwhip artistes. We waited patiently for the new generation of Dante-designed bullwhips to arrive. We revisited daily the possible ways to retrieve our vitally-needed camper van and grew a greater appreciation for the intrepid pioneers who spent the early part of the 20^th Century drilling dry hole after dry hole before finally reaching the goods that let them add a little silver to their spurs.

On the home front, we've had to deal with avaricious owners and mendacious landlords trying to evict us since January (even though we'd already given notice and balanced the books prior to departing). We finally decided the game was not worth the candle and vacated about the middle of May, staying with friends who threw a life preserver out to us. There was one sleepless evening spent in a Salvation Army men's shelter that gave me a fresh perspective on civilian dormitory life in an overnight prison.

Now we prepare to head out to Maryland for a 10-day camping event, doing whip workshops and demos. On June the 4^th this idyllic interlude ends, and we return to the state of being homeless in Minneapolis. We do not know how this will pan out, since several projects are coming to a head at the same time and any one of them will solve the problem quickly.

I'd looked forward to 2012 as a year of new beginnings, but I'd forgotten this usually entails major endings to make room for those new starts. So here we are. Next?

A favorite recurring appearance we make is at the Annie Oakley Days Festival in Greenville, Ohio. This year it's on July 27-29.

For information, go the Annie Oakley Days website at

http://www.annieoakleyfestival.org/

It's a quiet time for a few weeks, following our New Year's Eve show with Dr Farrago Theatre. We started 2011 doing a show with them, so it seems appropriate that we could close the year out with them. So good to see so many friendly faces: Mia, Chuck, David Walbridge, Johnny Em, and the rest. A breath of fresh air, top-notch talent, and not a diva among them.

The whips will continue to be at the center of my artistic experience off the stage, as much as onstage:

-- new DVD project (ie video version of my book). A few more false starts last year, with the usual frustrations and promising leads turning into dead ends. But at the same time it has given me time to sharpen what I see in my mind's eye, so I still believe it may happen this year.

-- new book project continues to be sketched. There is a need for a book that talks about whips beyond cracking them: history, anecdotes, personal recollections, humor, games, contests, resources, factoids. Something on the subject one can sit and read for the fun of it and that might spark ideas and encourage more original thinking in the field.

-- new jewelry project. Getting off the ground, in discussions with artist right now.

-- new routines. Anything will get boring when you do it over and over again, so Mary and I structure our shows to leave enough room for the unforeseen accidents, unpredictable coincidences and unexpected miracles to occur. We are there in the moment. This means new routines, new stunts and tricks, as well as expanding and sharpening the "Whiporama" full hour bullwhip show concept.

-- new (mumble mumble) project. (Non-disclosure agreement prevents me for elaborating.) More later.

AND there are few other things percolating delightfully right now, just out of the light. It's going to be a rush to throw open the curtains on some of these for the first time!

So there it is. When you stand before a blank canvas, you should boldly dash some color onto it, pierce the silence even if with a single note. As I like to remind folks, Emerson said, "Do the thing and you have the power."

From everything I've seen, he's still right.

It been a while since I've written, so I need to catch up, which will explain any redundancies in this missive. And then I need to stay current. That's what I look for when I read someone's blog entries.

Easier said than done.

One difficulty of living in the ever-present tense is that I am loathe to look back over my shoulder. My focus is always on the road ahead, like a motorcycle rider. I prefer to do than to talk about what I did.

So let's see where I was...

The van works well, like a fine timepiece (even though the dashboard clock itself actually does not function – must add this to the To Do list).

Off we go on our Bullwhip Safari, putting down rompy highways to Wichita, Kansas, where it's good to see Steve even under low ceilings, head on to Denver, flashing back on mountain adventures of previous years, caught by torrential rain, flooded out, get rolling again, next gig SRO and grand.

Continue down to Albuquerque looking for UFOs, see none, never knew desolation could be so beautiful, cactus after cactus after tumbleweed, do presentation, see biggest banana split in history (I want one!), then on with side trip to see Mary's old friend Fish, shave his dog, take wrong road, have flat tire, change out, get to Tucson, very flat city in a picturesque way, can't fix tire so buy a new one. Beautiful hosts, amazingly positive weekend except for hotel which charged my own credit card and made me bounce a check because I was trying to make it a cash-only trip. Happily, host made good, would do it again anytime with them, but at any other hotel than the Radisson in Tucson (rude idiots!).

Head over to Pacific Ocean, waving as I spin through LA and point us north to see Indiana Jones' hat and other memorabilia on impossibly steep highway (a real job for the clutch on the Westie), see where whip supplier lied to me about our deal. Will definitely fix that when we return.

Conversation cruising onto Pacific Coast Highway toward San Francisco, fogged in overnight mere feet from dizzying precipice, find nice Buddhist meditation gas station that charged $6 for a gallon of gas (who do you report these people to?) and lied about the distance to the next gas station.

Meet friend Mark in Monterrey, handy friend with a pair of pliers as well as a therapist, reclaim possessions left years ago while on circus tour, at least the non-paper items dripping water did not damage with mold, zip along James Dean Highway under eerie sky full of stars (but no UFOs).

Drop $10 in Reno (felt like a cheap Scotsman!) then discover Salt Flats as Mary adds to the 2,000 photos she will snap, seeing mirages and practice fires.

I see why Salt Lake City is considered beautiful, marvelous hosts there (want to come back!), on to Denver where several cheapos piggyback on supposedly one-on-one time I gave to someone else (who paid), ignore implied insult from SASS-hole (wait until I see some real whip crackers?), decided not to play in that sandbox, and so on to Des Moines, 300 miles from home after a 5,000-mile circuit, where Westie decides it's safe to give up ghost for a while, giving us chance to be rescued by impossibly generous repair shop that gets us rolling again for dimes on the dollar (thanks guys!).

And so to bed at home. Catch our breaths.

The following weekend we wend our way to do Wild West and windy college football half-time show with terrific audience response (see video on YouTube), very pleased with the way we danced together with the whips, hit road again for Kansas gig and home, where clutch cable finally snaps. Three-hour job takes 5 days, waiting for replacement part, etc (picture on Facebook), with Mary's able assistance, back on the road in time to do Dr Farrago burlesque show at Ground Zero two nights ago.

So here on Sunday morning, being my own Boswell, smiling over how well blindfolded newspaper-cutting stunt went at Dr Farrago show, savoring my banana crepes and tea, wondering what to say to St Louis Park Rotary Club at monthly breakfast next Friday, maybe what's it like to be a professional whip cracker with a loving partner, living in a world where being broke and rich is not a contradiction.