Wahoonie Shaped

Welcome back, my friends, to the show that keeps going on, even should you want it to stop. There’s no knowing where we’re going, and a hurricane’s a’blowing. Or something like that. I hope you’ve all been having a good time violating house arres- I mean, getting out and about now that our benevolent lords and masters have relaxed the quarantine measures. I haven’t, but that’s because the weather here has been chill, gray, and damp. Not exactly wet-wet, until today, but certainly more than … moist. Oh, and not if you’re in certain parts of Colorado, where they received a goodly bit of snow. Kinda sucks to be a flower, right about now. My condolences to my gardening Coloradans.

Writing is hard, y’all. It’s double hard even when you don’t have worthy distractions. Even now, a little voice is calling, calling, calling at the back of my … back. “Daddy, I want something to eat.” She’s not alone, is Wee-er Dave. I’m sorry, all. I don’t really have anything for you, today. Go read Amanda’s post. The weird keeps getting weirder. Apparently, a portion of Seattle has been abandoned by the police force and protesters have renamed it the Capitol Hill Autonomous Zone. Pretty wild stuff, and I couldn’t make this up if I tried.

If I’m being honest, I don’t feel much like writing, right now. Everything has gotten more than a bit wahoonie shaped. Look to you and yourn, folks.


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