The Foibles of Life and Writing

I finally got my blog post up, to rant, wail, ponder, and observe the foibles of life and the struggles of a historical author. Maybe it's just a diary to write down thoughts and epiphanies (I actually spelled that right?) But here we go:

I might get guest posters if anyone cares to rant as well.

First, we're in Quarantine. Three months now. As a writer I'm mainly parked in front of my computer, anyway, so it made little difference. I only miss my granddaughters and going camping.
I have snuck in the granddaughters, but no camping.

 

Here we are camping a couple of years back at Lake Chataqua. (definitely can't spell that)

 

My old dog Fritzie is with us; he passed over the rainbow bridge in 2019 after sixteen years.

 

Quarantine, why does no one around here want to be safe? No masks, no social distancing, and the sick numbers are spiking. Never thought I would live in a Plague World. Don't make this pandemic about politics, make it about caring for each other.

 

I best get back to writng where I make the big bucks, at leas 25.00 a quarter. Oooh, and Ahhhh.