Snake Season!

I'm waiting for my Hamburger Helper to thicken/congeal. I didn't really want it but I need leftovers to take to work tomorrow and Thursday.

Reservations have been made for Carrie's and my vacation. We're both ready to go. Too bad we have a month to wait.

Got my hair cut today so of course I'm itchy as hell. Still, my hair should be in that brief two week window of perfection when we head south. I'll need another haircut shortly after we return.

Finally got Eight Million Ways to Die. Once I finish The Hook, I'll be able to resume following Matthew Scudder on his cases.

I saw a dead snake run over on the road today while I was walking the hound. It was a green snake about a foot long. I guess that means it's time to start watching where I walk more carefully when I'm hiking and walking the hound.

I don't hear the Helper sizzling any more. Time to eat!

What's for dinner?

Another Monday has come and gone. I'm sitting here recovering from my workout by doing some 12 oz. curls. It's been a week since I changed my workout and I weigh seven pounds less than I did the last time I weighed myself. Unfortunately, the last time I weighed myself was August so who knows how much I actually dropped last week. I have discovered one thing in the past week: 20 year old Dan bounced back a hell of a lot faster than 32 year old Dan.

I read an interview with Donald Westlake today where he said he never used an outline and largely winged it, telling himself a little more of the story every day. I'm going to try that with The Gravedigger's Promise once I get some quiet time in which to write and run out of ways to procrastinate.

My boss finally has the only existing copy of A Summer At Thornhill Manor in her possession so that she may read it. She saw the NaNoWriMo 2008 and 2009 certificates on my cube wall the other day and asked why she never got to read them. Now's her chance. I did warn her not to read it near water, since that's how my first copy of Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell met its demise at her hand.

I don't think anything else is going on. I have yet to talk to any of my neighbors about yesterday's mystery explosion but it seems much less important with over 24 hours elapsed. Carrie's feeling better so I'll be heading over there tomorrow evening with the third of a cake I saved on Saturday. I did some planning for our vacation today and will start booking rooms any day now. I'm thinking about bringing my laptop so I can transfer pictures as I go and not worry about filling my memory card.

Looks like I'll be sandwiching it up this evening. I want to save my leftovers for tomorrow's lunch. I'm trying to cut the cafeteria at work out of my life completely except for a place to read for an hour every day.

Better walk the hound, I guess.

What the hell was that noise?

This morning I was taking Belle on her second walk when there was a loud boom, so loud that I did a sort of half crouch. It was louder than thunder and sounded like some kind of explosion. I didn't see any smoke but it sounded really close. I could hear at least four different dogs barking. Belle didn't react. I assumed it was some kind of meth lab explosion but the lack of smoke or visible damage to any of the houses in the neighborhood led me to think it was at Brickeys or Holcim. My subsequent investigation on our third walk yielded no findings since no one was outside to talk to me.

I read the third and fourth Matthew Scudder books today. That's what rainy Sundays are for. Now I'm spinning my reading wheels until Eight Million Ways to Die shows up at the bookstore. Fortunately I have plenty to read until it shows. Still, I hope it's soon.

Carrie's finally getting over the flu that hit her Friday afternoon. It feels like a long time since I've seen her even though it was last Tuesday.

I'm hoping to get an outline ready for my Gravedigger story in the next day or so. I've got big ideas but I don't know if I have enough to make it go 70,000 plus words.

The Loathsome Thing my Dog Did This Morning

So I was walking the dog this morning and deep in thought when I heard her make a gulping noise. I looked down to find a scrap of hide about six inches long and at least four inches wide. It was still raw and bloody on the other side. I think it was rabbit hide. Anyway, I could not get her to let it go. Every five feet or so I'd stop and tell her to put it down. She wasn't having any of it. I finally got her to release it once we got into the kitchen. Since she was still on the leash, I kicked the piece of hide toward the trash can and distracted her with a dog biscuit while I picked it up with a paper towel. It was gag inducing. After she ate the biscuit, she looked around for the piece of hide and seemed mad that I threw it away.

March is almost over

The weekend is fast approaching. What have I accomplished this week?

The only noteworthy thing I can think of is finishing the first round of edits on Sailors on the Sea of Dead Gods. I hadn't looked at it since I finished the epilogue on December 16th. It's a hell of a lot better than I thought it was. Once I forget the torture that goes into a story, it's a lot easier for me to enjoy reading it.

BBQ at Chris and Abby's Saturday. Carrie and I are quite excited.

Case of the Mondays

Man, did today ever drag! Three people in my group called in, no doubt suffering from Monday Fever.

Still, not all was lost. I tweaked the Digger fragment a bit and resolved to start editing Sailors on the Sea of Dead Gods as soon as I remember to put it on my flash drive.

In other news, I changed my workout routine back to what it was when I was 20, my thinking being that since that was when I was the most ripped, I was doing something right. In layman's terms, I lowered the amount of weight and do more reps. Judging by how heavy my arms seem at the moment, I think it will be productive.

I'm planning on uploading some pictures later if I feel like it after I get done picking up sticks in the yard.

Story fragment starring the Gravedigger

I wrote this first thing yesterday morning. I already know the ending. I just have to get there and hope I can get an entire book out of the story.

Digger leaned against a tree and smoked a cigar as he waited for the ceremony to end and the mourners to scatter. He didn't know who he was going to bury and didn't care. He never understood why so much ceremony went into burials. The dead never noticed. Digger ran a hand across his freshly buzzed scalp and blew a cloud of blue smoke toward the grave site. He took the cigar from his savage slash of a mouth and furrowed his beetled brow as he shook ash from the cigar’s end. How long was this blowhard going to take?

His cigar was nearly down to the nub when the priest finished his piece and the crowd scurried away like frightened mice. Digger stubbed out his cigar against the tree trunk and climbed into the seat of the front loader. It started with a roar and he went to work filling the grave.

Grave digging wasn't the best job he'd ever had but the best he could find. No one was eager to hire someone fresh out of the joint after a seventeen year stretch for armed robbery. The priest at the church across the cemetery gave him the job as a way to help him start a new life. Funny how Digger’s new life saw him getting paid two bucks an hour less than newspaper ad said. It didn’t matter, though. Digger had money in safety deposit boxes in ten nearby towns that he could dip into when the need arose. The cemetery job was just a cover.

Calvin Wallace was the name on Digger’s driver’s license and his social security card but it wasn’t the name he’d been born with. It was one of several cover identities he’d created over the years, the only one the FBI hadn’t uncovered. Digger sounded more like his real name so he let the locals call him that.

Once the hole had been filled in, Digger took his shovel and half-heartedly packed down the fresh earth with a shovel. He thought it was pointless but he didn’t want the priest on his ass later. Digger was finishing up when he heard footsteps behind him.

Digger spun around, his teeth bared and his knuckles white from his grip on the shovel, ready to kill if necessary. His enemies were legion and one of them might have tracked him down. He breathed a short sigh of relief when he saw who was approaching.