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Why?
Most of you don't care for them, especially the ones involving French. I mean I get it, the history of the Napoleonic era is boring for many people, not to me, but hey, I like tofu, many don't.
I thought about quitting blogging altogether, like today, but ...
It's too soon for such drastic measures. I may scale back the number of posts I do in a week. In other words, posting every day will no longer be a thing. There were days when I couldn't think of anything to post, so I'd post a rerun. In my book, that didn't count as "posting every day."
Now a blogger I follow decided a while back to only post on Fridays. Yeah, I didn't like it at first, now I really look forward to visiting his blog on Friday. It's like Christmas, man, lots of posts under the tree, so to speak.
Here's one from today, addresses a particular pet peeve of mine ...
Yeah, ya gotta chase a link to get to another link, but as he posted it first, I need you to pass through his place to get to the main article in question. (Gotta increase those hits, dontcha know? - Even if many of them are bogus spambot visits.)
Anyhoo.
No historical fiction for a while. Now that I know what most of you don't care for, I won't post it any more, or at least not as frequently.
I really miss this ...
Being at the beach with my grandkids was awesome, as it is every year, it never gets old. This year, on our last day there, some of the "grown ups" decided they wanted to skip the beach and go into town. There's a nice touristy town not far away so they wanted to hit that up.
Me?
No thanks, I'm here for the beach, the forest, and the sky, I'll stay here.
So I went on down to the waves, as I was wading out, I turned and noticed The Nuke and grandson Roberto heading down from the house. Turns out he'd rather spend the day goofing around with grandpa then "go shopping," even though there was the promise of ice cream, or his equivalent, sherbet. (Robbo doesn't care for ice cream, kid doesn't like chocolate either, hard to believe we're related, though many of his personality traits might be traced to me, but certainly not in a court of law. Heh.)
After The Nuke left, Tuttle's daughter, my bonus granddaughter, aka Her Grace, came down the path to join Roberto and I in "the pool." (We have our own private beach down there, so I refer to Chesapeake Bay as "the pool.")
The three of us enjoyed our last day at the beach until the thunder rumbles arrived round about 1500 hours, local. But it had been a good day, nay, a great day, much better than shopping.
But the "grown ups" assured me that they had a good time, and Finnegan got ice cream.
Roberto didn't mind, like he said, "Nice, we had the ocean."
Miss that, I do.
Ciao!
