I know what my problem is.

After 16 years working for or adjacent the federal government, I’m accustomed to the dead zone of August. Congress is generally in recess, which means a lot of feds schedule their summer vacations during August, which means it’s also a good time for contractors and journalists to get in some much-needed time off before the September spending spree and rush to miss the Sept. 30 deadline for next year’s fiscal appropriation.

This is my second August away from that grind, but my brain hasn’t quite adjusted to the concept that most people are unaware that the eighth month is the Washington equivalent of the Biblical seventh day, and therefore life goes on. As does the blog, even if my brain doesn’t want to.

All that to say, I’m not going to talk about writing today.

This past week was more full than most. A significant chunk of my immediate family gathered on the West Coast for something like a reunion. In our interconnected world, we don’t lose touch with each other as we did with extended family when we were kids, but we are also far flung, so we don’t get too many opportunities to see each other in the flesh. We were missing one leg of the family, not counting two legs who weren’t invited and wouldn’t have come if they were. I could tell you more but I’m saving it for the book.

It was a quick trip, 5 days in and out. Mostly socializing and cooking, though the two men-folk checked into their respective offices. No rest for the wicked. Almost everyone got in the pool and hot tub at some point. We were only 2 miles from the beach, but the temps were moderate so we didn’t make it a priority. When we did, we picked the worst of the 5 days to go: overcast, drizzly, and of course, much colder and gustier near the ocean.

The kids braved the water and did something to the sand. I couldn’t quite figure out what and I already had sand up my nose, so I didn’t want to get too close. Most of the effort seemed to go into shoveling out a hole in the ground.

Squatting a few dozen yards away, the adults were bundled up like Bernie Sanders on Inauguration Day. Collectively, we decided that while sand and ocean were in evidence, this was definitely not The Beach.

Since we traveled all that way, it was good to see the ocean, but we soon bribed the kids to pack it in.

Day 4: the boys asked me to play Dungeons and Dragons and I pretended that I hadn’t been waiting for that all week. They were in the middle of a game, so they let me teleport in one of my existing characters, a shifter druid with a faux Russian accent who calls everyone Bro. One of boys played a character named Alvin and another had a character named Adrian, but my comedic references to Rocky and the Chipmunks were entirely wasted on them. I know they all have screens. What are they even watching?

I got mega-uncle points for showing them D&D Beyond.

Minds. Blown.

I (probably) don’t need to justify blogging about a non-writing topic, though that is what I advertise. It’s been brought to my attention that readers like to see the person behind the screen, even if only occasionally, and while I don’t often like these kinds of things when others write them, someone must enjoy them, because everyone does it.

If you’re a fan of Star Trek: Next Generation, you may recall scenes where Data asks Geordi to explain some human idiosyncrasy, and now you know what it’s like talking to me. Sometimes. Other times though, I can be very emotional.

So I won’t feel guilty about occasionally pulling topics from real life, such as it is. Follow any writer and you will eventually be treated to photos of cats, gardens, and mugs of tea. When I get another dog someday, I will post photos, but I promise never to show you what I’m eating. And I don’t have a garden, but sometimes there is a dead rat in the alley.

Personal posts may be common, but they come in many flavors.

Know anyone who’d like my blog? Please forward today’s post! I’d love to hear from them.

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