Our family has become a sort of plaque ship as one person after another comes down with the crud. Steve has succumbed to its siren song, my daughter who just returned to work is down for the count, grandchildren, and even the other grandmother, have been overtaken by illness. I'm on Day 6. I think I'm feeling better then I develop a new symptom. However, I found the energy to send out a half-baked four pages to my writing group last night, fulfilling my obligation to submit, even if it did come up a little short. I'd written 9 pages but found the last five pages to be sorely lacking in development and held onto them. I'm sick but I still have my pride vanity. Today, I wrote four pages for a memoir contest that's coming up. If chosen, a professional actor will read your pages on stage. Worth a try and I only have to come up with 1500 words. This is actually a challenge since writing any type of concise story takes more work than you might think. On top of all this exhausting work, I made beef stroganoff for dinner, and briefly babysat my granddaughter who slept most of the time. I am woman. Hear me cough.
A buzzard who is just biding his time.
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