Clinton, South Carolina, Thursday, February 6, 2020, 1:18 p.m.

Storms never last, do they, baby? Bad times all pass with the winds …

Waylon Jennings had the perfect voice to sing those words.

The storms of life keep washing me away. Ditto, Randy Travis.

It’s rainin’, rainin’ in my heart. Damned if it hasn’t knocked out the satellite, too, Buddy Holly.

I’m so glad I had the tree in the backyard removed in the fall. I left it there when the house was built because it had once been struck by lightning, and lightning never strikes twice in the same place. So much for that superstition.

C’est la vie, say the old folks. It goes to show you never can tell. That, too, Chuck Berry. Et tu, Brute.

The house is on a hill. Little chance of flooding. Heightened chance of a tornado. You pay your bill. You take your chances.

It’s hard to do business without hearing someone say, “Not a problem.” It seems to have replaced “no problem,” which has also been supplanted by “no worries.”

In other words, I’m up to date on editing releases. I’ve posted some postponements and cancellations. I don’t have time to work on a novel. So I just start chipping away at a blog while the wind howls and the rain pelts the roof. I’m not confident enough in the Internet yet to embark on the daily search for who died and who got arrested.

The high school basketball games are off, but best of my knowledge, the Presbyterian College men are still on tap to have a tip at 7.

I often think of the Statler Brothers on such occasions. Uh, don’t tell me … I’ve nothin’ to do.

 

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Lightning in a Bottle, the first of my two motorsports novels, is now available in audio (Audible, Amazon, iTunes) with the extraordinary narration of Jay Harper.

My eighth novel, a political crime thriller, is called Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell. It’s right up to date with the current political landscape in the country.

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