I'm writing this week's post in the company of my parents' cat, Edgar Winter. My friend Ed is technically a cat, but we like to call him "the cog" because he acts like a dog in many ways. He wags his tail when he's happy, which combines very oddly with the purring. I also maintain that he's part Klingon, because when he wants attention he is very hard to deter. (He clings on. Therefore, a Klingon.) He also really dislikes to be home alone for extended periods of time, so here I am.
Anyway, he's supervising this post, in between monitoring squirrel activity in the side yard and taking his fifteenth nap of the day. My subject has nothing to do with cats, so he's not overly enthused. I, on the other hand, am delighted with it. Today we're talking about a woman born and raised in Pennsylvania, who spent part of her life in Northampton County, and who lacked much in the way of formal training yet nevertheless emerged as a prolific, talented, and acclaimed writer of history. You know, kind of like I'm trying to do.