Dispatches From the Front
Welcome back to your 21st Century Manufactured Crisis! According to many, mostly those in power, the world is quickly sliding into the nether regions of the 831st Hell dimension, where palpable, icy darkness fights endlessly with scorching fire, where the food fights back, all stomachs are empty, and children form bands of feral, semi-barbarians and sacrifice their elders to new, dark gods. Should be fun, really, and the Wee Horde are halfway there, already.
Speaking of whom! The so-called governor of our part of the Republic *grinds teeth* confirmed what Mrs. Dave and I had expected, and called the ‘19/’20 school year the other day, so now I’m working out exactly how to occupy two active and somewhat bored small creatures. I have plans, but I need stuff to fulfill those plans. Anyway, I’m going to teach the Wee Horde archery. I figure that’s good for a laugh. And maybe meat, if things get really nasty.
If it wasn’t clear before, we’re doing okay. For a given value, thereof, really. The littles have a finite ability to remain chill under what is functionally house arrest. While I have more than enough to keep me occupied – and truthfully, so do they – they lack the attention span to focus on more constructive pursuits, rather than mind-rotting electronics. Which are, of course, their preferred method of turning their burgeoning intellects into the mental equivalent of cold tapioca pudding (yuck, and double yuck.)
Completely aside from all this, I’ve not ficted at all. There has been no fiction accomplished. And honestly, I’m not sure when there will be. I’m hoping soon, but I’ve had nearly zero ability to maintain even a little distance. Social distance, sure. Family? Never.
Don’t get me wrong, this period of enforced cowering-in-place has bred several very good things. Wee Dave is learning fractions, money, decimal work, and has been introduced to multiplication and division. Reading and writing ability are improving to the point where I found him reading to himself when I came downstairs this morning. And Wee-er Dave is getting in on the act. Counting by fives and tens, learning to navigate the calendar, and to read some words, which exciting. So we’re doing fairly well, all things considered.
I dunno, guys. I don’t have anything good, pithy, writing related for you. I’m having to fend of my children just to get a barely-mediocre post out. Hang in there, and give each other grace when you have the least opportunity.