Remember Cher in Moonstruck , kicking the can down the road. That's me. Well not actually. I'm not Cher, and no where near looking as good as Cher on her worst day but I'm still kicking, that can, down the road.

My God it’s been a year. Is anybody out there? Does anybody care? Yes, we were locked down. Two weeks, just us and our pain-in-the-ass mini wiener dog who is sweet and quiet only after the sun goes down. (They haven’t found my husband’s body yet.) Actually we did OK. We pretty much stuck close to home. Had food delivered until stores set rules in place and the state set mandates. Even now we do not go often. On-line shopping saved Christmas. Early on not visiting two of our grandchildren was heartbreaking. We got as close as hands against the glass and cried all the way home. Our other Little-One is part of our next-door-nest so we got to spend time with her. We played by the rules, watched the news, and rejoiced when change came in November. We’ve gotten our first shots and are waiting impatiently in line while jittering up and down for our second double dip dish of rocky road. I’m hoping the shots are our get-of-jail-free cards? What a heartbreaking year it has been. When I think of the fear, suffering, and loss that has taken place I am overwhelmed by it all. How can something so minute loom so large while seeking to annihilate our species? Comprehending the immensity of it is like trying to fathom the depth of the universe. It is just too vast. When I think of all the time I’ve had to write, and how I used those endless hours for something else, I feel profoundly guilty. Sustaining focus became impossible, editing became a nightmare, the dream of a title page became a stopped clock. Okay, enough of looking backward. Enough of wondering why, or how, or WTF. So here I am a year later replacing the double A’s, setting the hands, and listening for the heartbeat of the little mantle clock. Its rhythm is the song of my life. The title of the song? Write. Ever vigilant, and thankful, and grateful, and cautious, stay well my writer friends, stay well. 2Ns

Fate in the cards

So…here I am on March 1^st sitting at my kitchen table writing. All I can think about is how our world, yup the entire world, has changed regarding the possibility of a pandemic. Some say we’ve already jumped the fence and some say not quite yet.  Where I live we have not been touched just yet but considering how (cliché alert) few and far between my posts have been, by the time I jump on again the world may have gone to a dark and scary place.

Though I am one of those so called high risk mature-types if the monster mounts my porch and slithers under my welcome mat I will deal. If for some reason our little town were to be locked down for two weeks (and staying indoors was the order) the biggest risk (and I can’t understate this) my husband and I would be at each other’s throats by about day 3.

So…here I am on March 2nd sitting at my kitchen table, setting aside the news and working on a family tale-of-truth. This new project chronicles a financial miracle which came down our little country road almost 20 years ago, knocked on our door and changed our lives. It is the stuff of dreams. I AM NOT UNDERSTATING THIS.

Fate plays an amazing game with our lives sometimes. Whether it be a virus the size of a nightmare or an unimagined life changing incident…my advice…never ever discount the possibility that at your darkest hour a wild card may be flipped your way.