Rocking our fashion masks.
Day 9,254 of the Coronavirus Pandemic (give or take)—did the Mayans get it wrong, or did we misread their calendar? Was it 2020, not 2012, that would mark the end of the world as we know it? I mean, civil unrest, a world-wide plague, wildfires decimating my beloved state, a derecho devastating my bride’s hometown/state of Iowa—even murder hornets, for crying out loud! And now we have two potential hurricanes on the way, as well as an asteroid?! (Where is Bruce Willis when we need him?) In the words of a great philosopher: “Oy!!!”
Jacqueline and I are still doing fine. We simply stay at home, other than one trip each per week to one of the local supermarkets, and our “cruise the coast” Fridays. (The majority of Covid-19 deaths in San Diego County are folks in our age group.) My bride is taking online classes in addition to her painting and Native American flute-playing. I’m a couple weeks into 
writing a new book, and I’d almost forgotten how much fun it can be.
And having baseball to watch is a life saver, even though the season could be canceled at any time. My much-loved Padres have won seven games in a row and have hit a grand slam home run in five of them. Incredible! Welcome to Slam Diego!
I suppose our country—and the world—needed a reboot, and wow, are we getting one! This too shall pass, and there will be better times ahead. May the Force be with you.