Holy cow. We have gained a whole new vocabulary with terms like self-imposed quarantine, social distancing, and of course, Covid19. So 2020 had some surprises in store for us homo sapiens, huh? Well, as far as I can tell, we have for the most part risen to the challenge. People seem to be caring for one another and helping not only their neighbors, but random service providers, who don’t have the luxury of staying home. And in fact, whose jobs are now dangerous. I heard that kind people are delivering meals to hospitals so nurses will have something to eat, that acts of random kindness are springing up everywhere. So, good for us! The most vulnerable among us are being protected by our heartier friends and family members: my daughter is shopping for us, as is our son-in-law, we’re doing video chats with the grandchildren, who haven’t forgotten us, far from it, and although we’re not doing anything much different than we were doing before, we’re doing it with intent rather than from choice. We’ll see what tomorrow brings, for each day seems to bring alarming statistical information. Let’s hope all this good will toward others lasts for another month and beyond, if that’s what it takes. If you’re reading this and want to check in with me and let me know how you’re doing, I’d love that.

PJ

It’s March. It came a day later because of leap year, the intricacies of which I will never understand, but the second of March came, and by all measures of time in our culture I turned eighty years old. Big, huh? What does that feel like, you ask. Just like seventy-nine? I don’t know. I’d been saying, “I’m almost eighty,” for so long, actually being eighty was anti-climatic. I’ve got some fun things planned for this year to celebrate the number, and I have some friends also reaching this milestone, so I’m not alone up here, just early. I had two really good friends who would have been celebrating with me, one a week before me and one two weeks after. Both of them are gone, and it only emphasizes for me that each day is to be appreciated.

I created an avatar just because I wanted to. There aren’t many choices for aging an avatar or I would have put more lines on her face, and I don’t think my jaw looks at all like that, but for a first effort, not terrible. She’s supposed to be pondering. I’m not sure what to do now, hence the pondering.

I’d love to tell you I’m writing up a storm, but I’m mostly cleaning up what I’ve already done–Quartet and my first self-published novel, Carved In Stone, which I thought had promise as a story. The plot was compelling enough to hold people’s interest, but just not well enough written. So, I’m re-writing.

I have a sheet with 25 ideas for blog posts and have looked them over. Number 1 is share ten weird facts about yourself. I don’t think I have ten weird facts. Hmmm. I sleep with three pillows? If you know me well enough to know things about me that are weird, feel free to add a few. I have phone phobia and procrastinate making calls, even to people I love. That’s weird, right? Sorry, I’m at a loss for weirdness. Help me out.

I’m going to need a new photo at the top of the page now, since the beach scene will no longer work. Any suggestions? Maybe I’ll try some essays. I’m occasionally flying into a rage over the current political climate and writing down my thoughts on same. Maybe one of them is good enough. Or maybe not.

Mostly, I didn’t want you to think I’d disappeared, if anyone is actually reading this. I never did find out if anyone was, but the story is still there should anyone stumble upon it.

I hope you’re enjoying your day, whatever you’re doing. Remember to breathe.

PJ