If anyone had asked me a year ago…even six months ago…what I would be doing during a quarantine, I would have scoffed at the improbably ludicrous scenario. Yet, here we are, facing a time when the improbable is real and the upheaval of daily life is unprecedented in our lifetime.
We have been sheltered from the harsh realities of how quickly the world that we know can be turned upside down. What was once frowned upon is now common. Children attending virtual classes, college students doing course work through real-time online videos and lectures. All parents are teachers and all teachers are students of technology.
When I was in school (Yes, I’m dating myself and I don’t care.), there were no computers. There was mimeograph machines and ditto copiers. If you had a good week, you got to help out in the office on Friday and catch a buzz from the smell of the chemicals. Ah, the simple times of getting high. But I digress.
Now I have to learn how to maneuver through Messenger, Zoom, WebEx, Go To Meetings, and a hundred other sites all meant to make our social distancing life less lonely. Less depressing. Less toxic. Because, let’s face it, we’re social beings. Never meant to live in solitude for extended periods of time. Never to go without those hugs we love, hearing the laughter of friends and family. I miss my posse. So much so, we do virtual dinners twice a week. It’s not the same as being in a room with people whose company you love. The fun part was learning I’m not the only one technically challenged. Some dinners run late.
And touch. I miss touching. I’m a tactile person. I prefer paperbacks to ebooks. Make lists on paper rather than on my phone. I crochet and sew and do things with my hands. Thank the Universe that I do. Writing would be difficult without touching. Oh, there are definitely people who dictate and then put the final touches on their work at the keyboard. I tried it once. It’s hard, and I didn’t like it.
But when I push all the less important stuff out of my mind, sit in the quiet, and concentrate on the meaning of it all, I find being on pause isn’t so horrible. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not signing up for prolonged solitude and social distancing. My job has me working from home, I am not a happy camper. I like people. Well…most anyway. the others I tolerate. I like the stimulation of watching and listening to strangers, and learning things outside of my home environment. I jumped for joy at the opportunity to get groceries. I haven’t been out of the house for a week. I love my wife, but we enjoy separate activities and have different interests. That’s not a bad thing. I think it makes the times we are together better.
And what the hell was the mass hysteria over toilet paper. Let me tell you, if you need that much fucking toilet paper, you need to see a specialist. Then there was the butter, flour, sugar scare. “OMG…I’m going to have to stay home for weeks. I need to bake my ass off.” Why? It’s not like you’re going to have company or go to parties. I shake my head. Watch the shelves and get what I need. If there are only two of something, considered if I really need it, or take one. Pandemonium reigns.
This isn’t meant to downplay the seriousness of the virus. I know people who have had it. Who have lost friends and loved ones. But even I can only deal with so much doom and gloom. I need a mental break from it all. Need to breathe. Need to not panic in the face of chaos.
What’s the moral of this rant. Nothing. Nada. Zip. I just find the things people do…or don’t do…funny, interesting, head-shaking material. It’ll all fodder for a book some day. Stay safe, be well. Most of all, take care of each other. In the end, human kindness is the best defense we have in this world.

Photo by Sharon McCutcheon on Pexels.com
I love the excitement of Christmas, usually. The lights and colors and good tidings. The smiles and laughter and hugs. This year, not so much. It felt like too much. Too much work. Too much to do. Too many lists. Too much of…well, everything. Sadness crept in with thoughts of my father (You left too soon, Dad.) and of how much he loved the holidays and everything around it. As I baked treats, I thought of how I had kept going without seeing him all these years, and how I had let go of family traditions, when my parents home was filled with relatives till it was busting at the seams. Good memories. And a lot of love.
Meanwhile, my first erotic short, “Hard Body” is making its debut July 1, 2019. It’s an e-book only, with steamy sex. Too much for paper. The glue would melt.
l Erotica. I’m not sure why I chose to write about a hiker on the Appalachian Trail, but that’s what happened, so I went with it. “On Her Trail” is a solid story and the sex is hot. Two integral components to any erotic short. It was a fun piece to write and it whet my appetite to attempt more. So I did.
While I loved my debut, this one is a bit different in that it’s a romantic intrigue with a few twists and turns. Set around our nation’s Capital, it lends to insight into what “theoretically” happens behind the scenes. It also delves into the psyche of each character and what motivates them.
t’s a little overwhelming. I was delusional, thinking all (ha,ha…not as easy as you might think) I had to do was write a decent story, find out if my manuscript was accepted, and get the editing done. On time. Luckily, I’m a little OCD when it comes to deadlines. I’ve always considered myself an excellent student, so submitting ahead of schedule was no surprise. Everything that followed—that was a surprise.
