faster than a roller coaster

This year has gone by very quickly. There used to be times where the clock would drag and the days last forever. The week would take it's sweet time with the weekend far away across the ocean.
Not so this year.
Is it morning? ZIP! Actually, my watch says 1:30 PM.
Is it Monday? ZIP! Sorry to be mistaken... Today is Thursday.
July? Zip! October.
 
To me the days are going by like a flip book. Does this mean I'm busy? Or that I've been kept busy? If a person was busy, they should be making progress in whatever they're doing. If we are to measure progress, then yes, my store looks very good. I get feedback all the time about how clean the place looks and how fast I put stuff up. A long time ago, I jokingly said that the place would burn down if I was gone for more than a few days. Perhaps not erupt into flames or crumble into rubble, but it would definitely lose some of it's luster. Is that ego talking? Perhaps. Here's the truth: they are sure getting their monies worth out of me. Question is, am I getting enough out of the deal? Minimum wage and hard work gets you minimum wage.
True, Lowe's has been making me jump through hoops every day. Just so people understand I'm not exaggerating. In back of the store I cut up several large pallets using circular and reciprocating saws. These are the kind that are used to transport riding mowers, so it's more truthful to call them crates, rather than pallets. The result: four stacks of wood that can now go into our storage trailer before the regional super grand poo-bahs arrive on Thursday. That was accomplished before lunch. (On top of receiving the normal eight delivery trucks that morning. I'm including Fed Ex, UPS and the distribution truck plus the local deliveries in that estimate.) Today I cleaned, loaded, unloaded, pulled, lifted and pushed my way through the day.
Honestly, the work isn't mentally difficult. Meticulous, fast-paced, strenuous, physically demanding... a big hell yes.
Since last year I've dropped 15 pounds. After a quick fact check (ran into the bathroom and weighed myself.) I'm now 175. If I weighed myself right after I get home, rather than after dinner, I wager I'd be closer to 172. I have weighed more (working out at the gym)... I've also been less. (My senior year in high school.)
Back to my perception of time. My day starts before the sun is up. Most of the time I make it home right before sunset. Between making dinner and riding herd on the kids, it's nearly 10 PM. Time for Dad to go to bed. 5 AM comes awfully early in these parts. I sleep, I eat, I work. Wash, rinse, repeat.
Am I, dare I say it, in a rut? If I am, it's not a good one. Using the weekend to catch up on chores and projects, I'm not surprised I'm feeling a little burnt out. Before I left work, I checked how many hours of vacation time I have built up: Almost 35 hours. A week off sounds good, but when to take it? The answer is as soon as possible, of course.

A person in my old writing group sold a short story to an anthology and her historical romance is due to be published some time this winter. I mention this because I helped edit her novel and critiqued it chapter by chapter. The reason they are my old writing group is that they're mostly romance writers. I will be forever grateful to them for teaching me better grammar and structure, but my writing interests and theirs don't coincide.

10 PM local time. A Pink Floyd song lyric comes to mind.
run, rabbit run. Dig that hole against the sun.
When at last the work is done,
don't sit down, it's time to dig another one.

Yeah, that pretty much sums up how I feel.
 

What?

Some more pre-Halloween shenanigans.

Before

After

 

Halloweenie pics

I know it's early, but some of us get into the act. We really like Halloween around here. Ahh... family.

Is my mascara running?

Look into my eyes

Just a flesh wound

 

What I have planned

Same thing we do every night, Pinky. Try to take over the world! Muhahahaha!

An interesting thing happened yesterday. The characters in my current story were 'stuck' in between one episode ending and another beginning. (Coincidentally known as a chapter break.) I'd write a paragraph only to erase it a minute later. Then I'd fumble around, writing sentences that didn't make sense. My better judgment would fix them immediately after they were written, but I kept plugging things in. Certain things fit, others didn't. Like a puzzle piece finally locking in place a certain way, the story fell in line. As soon as that occurred, a couple of pages spilled forth onto the screen.

There is an old martial arts mantra attributed to Bruce Lee: 'Learn everything you can, discard what is useless, add to it your own.'
That is the true economy of motion. While not admitting I had writers block, I was certainly stuck in limbo for a short while.
I'm going to catch some flack from this, but I don't believe writers block actually exists. What I think happens is the writer is afraid to put hands to keyboard. Or put another way, the writer is trying too hard to stick to plan A, but subconsciously the writer wants to take a side trip to plan B. Left and right side of the brain lock up. The result is nothing gets written down.  My advice is to simply go with it. Let the story flow from your fingertips and don't worry if people will like it. If you write true to your heart, then it will show in your work.
And yes, it is work. Mental acuity through focus and concentration.

It's getting to the point where I really should give this story a name. The name Travelers Road caught my attention for the first book because it had several meanings. The hero is a time traveler. In the book, he journeys across the desert, indeed all of Texas. There's even a journey of redemption and discovery.

In this as-yet-unnamed sequel Daniel is trying to hold on to what he's gained and come to love. Not only the people, but the town and time period. Ideally the title would have two words, but that isn't set in stone. Daniel has grown. He now has a wife and is trying to start a family. There is also an apprentice to train and let's not forget that a very lethal killer is out to do him in.

The book opens with Daniel preparing for the upcoming battle with the lizard man assassin. He has re-invented things to help him in defeating this killer when it comes. To help him, Daniel has enlisted the aid of his friends and the town blacksmith who is an accomplished machinist.
Part of his cover in the 19th century is being a Texas Ranger that investigates paranormal activity. (Think X-files in the old west, or as one of my readers put it, Gunsmoke on mescaline.) Daniel is summoned to the Union stockyards to investigate why cattle are being electrocuted in the pens. Our hero has to figure a way to stop someone who can summon lightning and is bent on revenge.
(I may be summarizing the book, but I'm skipping over the spoilers.)
The newlyweds spend Christmas in Dallas, but the honeymoon is interrupted by an evil doctor bent on creating an army of fungus creatures. After defeating the monsters, Daniel discovers he now has an apprentice that he must train. Unfortunately the Christmas celebration must wait, the lizard man has tracked them. Stealing a barge allows our heroes to escape where they make their way to La Grange, seeking the help of an old friend of Charlotte. Crime is rampant in the town and the sheriff is all too glad to blackmail Daniel into helping him curb the crime spree. A compromise is reached that will have far reaching consequences in the twentieth century.
Knowing it is a matter of time before the lizard catches up with them, Daniel decides to high tail it back to Waco where his weapons await to stop the scaly horror.
The lizard, however, has beaten them back to town. In fact, it has built a nest, complete with eggs! Sally reminds everyone that some species of reptile can change sex.
A climatic standoff ensues. Daniel with a flamethrower and the nest of eggs. The lizard assassin holding a Charlotte who is a few weeks pregnant.

I'm not revealing how Daniel gets out of that situation. Instead, I'll leave you with this:

“Mister Ranger!” the boy cried out in between gasps. “Mister Ranger, Sheriff wants to see you right away.” Putting down her things Charlotte gave me a glare. “Don't even think about it. I'm coming with you.”

“Wouldn't have it any other way.” I shot back. The boy proceeded to lead us to a farm house on the edge of town.

An elderly woman sat on the house porch with her hands over her face. Upon seeing how upset she appeared to be, Charlotte hurried to her side.

“Sheriff says to meet him out in the field.” the boy affirmed. With Charlotte taking things in hand here, I let myself be led out back. A gently rolling hill occupied the one side of the field where the farmer put his crop. At the crest of the hill stood the sheriff next to a large pile of... hay?

What first appeared to be a huge mass of straw was in fact, much more. “Glad the boy found you,” Sheriff Branson said by way of introduction. “I...”

“Let me look at the this first,” I interrupted. “Then we'll talk.”

An unusual concentration of flies buzzed around as I examined the mound. The bottom portion appeared to be mud and plant matter. The strong odor it gave off reminded me of a manure pile. Roughly chest high a wooden plow handle stuck out. A lot of insects gathered along some of the larger twigs. This resembled a column of loose earth, I've seen something like this before, it was somewhat familiar, but what could it be? A compost pile perhaps? With so many flies swarming about, I first thought there must be an outhouse nearby. Rounding the corner I nearly smacked face first into an arm jutting out from the debris. Dried blood staining the tatters of a muddy shirt sleeve.

“We think that's Abner.” The sheriff supplied from behind me. “His wife says he went out yesterday. Found the horse in his stall this morning, she got worried and then sent for me.”

A hundred things went through my mind, none of them came close to figuring out what was going on. I didn't know anything about processing a body or what to do next.

“Bottom line: We have to get him out of there. This pile of...” Absently removing a clod of earth from the mound. “Debris has got to be ten feet high. Question is; how did he get in there along with his plow? Did his wife see anything?”

Sheriff Branson grimaced as he wiped sweat from his brow. “Hasn't seen anything for years. Cataracts took most of her sight. She doesn't know about this.”

Is there a shovel in the barn or...” I began. Branson held out the spade he'd been leaning against. “I don't suppose we could send for someone?” I asked.

“I already did. You arrived before my deputies. They're rounding up a farm hand or two.”

“I was thinking of Sally Ackerman.”

“Your friend from the Saloon?” Branson looked at me quizzically.

“Not for the actual work. I need her opinion on this.”

Returning to the farm house while Sally was sent for, I decided to interview the wife. Charlotte sat beside the elderly woman, holding her hand reassuringly. Face red and blotchy from recently crying, the woman stared ahead with whited over eyes.

“Someone's approaching.” I heard her whisper to Charlotte.

“It's my husband.” Charlotte confirmed.

“Mrs. Abner,” I began. “I need to ask you about last night. Did you hear anything?”

“I spoke to the sheriff a short time ago.” she began. “Such a nice boy. I used to teach him back when he was little. I found Nuthatch this morning when I was going into the barn, but no sign of my Paw. Did you find him?”

Was I the right one to tell her? “We found someone half buried in a... mudslide.” I began. “We're not sure it's Mr. Abner, but when we dig him out, we'll know more.”

Mrs. Abner frowned. “A mudslide? We haven't had any serious rain in a bit... The nearest creek is a ways off. What are you not telling me young man.” she demanded.

“When we know more, we'll let you know.” I offered. “Help is on the way. Right now I don't have an explanation for what happened or how it happened. It appears this person was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

An angry look crossing her face, Mrs. Abner spit out. “That's my husband you're talking about.”

“We don't know if it's him.” I explained while trying not to raise my voice. “When we make a positive identification, you'll be the first to know.”

Still looking angry, Mrs. Abner took what I said at face value. “Thank you, young man. That will be all.”

Okay, so I wasn't going to get any further until we had the body out of the mound. Wait a sec... mound... Pile? Stepping over to the edge of the porch, I could see the outline of the murder scene. Calling it a crime scene seemed a little trite. The afternoon sun glared into my eyes. Shading my vision to get a better look at where a man lost his life, I suddenly had an inkling of what it could be. When I covered my eyes, I also blocked out a portion of the field and trees. Seeing what it might be without any size reference next to it. Before I knew it I began running back to the scene. The smell of decay became stronger as I approached. Removing a glove and experimentally holding my hand an inch away from the mound told something interesting.

With faint heat radiating from the debris, whatever was inside was composting, or rather whatever was composting was keeping something warm inside.

“I hope you didn't touch that.” Sally remarked as she and Charlotte approached. Two men carrying shovels and picks stood beside my girls.

“Sally, before these men get him,” I indicated the outstretched arm. “I need your opinion on what could have caused this.”

Unphased by what I said, she repeated; “Did. You. Touch. It?”

“No.” I replied in the same tone of voice.

Taking me at my word, Sally stepped up to examine the column.

“Smells like crap.” she remarked.

“Looks like a very big dog cr...”

“Don't!” Sally warned. “That's not what it is. You say that whatever is chasing you is a reptile?”

Nodding my head, I motioned for her to continue. “This isn't a compost pile or a big pile of cow chips. This is a nest.” Turning to the two men, Sally laid out some specific instructions. “Dig carefully around the body, especially underneath it. Try not to disturb the mound as much as possible. Where are you boys from?”

“I'm from Biloxi, Mississippi ma'am.” One of the men spoke up. Sally nodded understandingly.

“Think of this as the biggest gator nest you've seen. When you've got the body out, find a sheep or a goat nearby. Kill it. Stuff it in the hole where the body was. You've got to do this before sundown.

“It's about four hours before sundown.” the other man offered.

“If someone has a problem with us taking an animal, tell them I'll pay them.” Sally explained. “Hurry, all our lives depend on it.”

One of the men took off running, presumably to find an animal. “The guy from Mississippi started excavating underneath the body with the shovel and pick.

I drew Sally close so as not to alarm everyone. “Are you saying there are eggs in there?” Sally nodded.

“I'm willing to bet money on it.”

 

feeling alright

As October winds down, I start to think of things for the coming month. I've got my brothers birthday. (I'll need to get him a card today.) There's Thanksgiving followed by the flaunting my own mortality. (Spin number 46 around the sun, yea!)
 The entire month is dedicated to the national novel writing month. That means absolutely nothing to me. Well... not anything important, anyway. You have time... you write. We don't need a month. You sit your can in a chair and start typing. It's all about focus... and if you have a story.

Last week we got a check in the mail for over 1000.00 
Wow, you might say. I knew it was a mistake and told my wife not to cash it. Her reasoning was they sent it, we need it. As much as I'd like someone to give me money, I had to put my foot down. The company that sent the check goofed. They were going to want it back. We sent e-mails and left messages to them. Last night we heard back. They're stupid, but not idiots. So the money is going back to them. Perhaps Karma will throw a little decency our way. That's gotta count for something.

We've all heard the complaint that you should have to take an IQ test before doing a major task. Driving... Getting on the Internet... Holding down an important job. Some people I don't trust to boil water. That's not cynicism, by the way, more like self-preservation. The people who don't know how to alter the temperature of water should wear a sign: This person can't cook. Under no circumstances are you to accept food from this person.

Now, as for operating heavy equipment:
I drive a truck. More importantly, I know how to drive a truck. Thanks to my mom, I know what a properly maintained truck can and can't do. Many people buy sport utility vehicles. They site reasons such as 'It carries my family,' and 'It's fun to drive!'. These same people do not know where their car ends and others begin. No lie: I saw a soccer mom spin the wheel of her SUV so fast while attempting to do the tightest turn and stepping on the gas. I heard the tires chirp, so yeah, that was bad. For a brief moment I thought the SUV was going to turn over. The more I think about it, the more I'm sure. Two of those wheels almost left the ground. Not for nothing, but we were in the parking lot of the damn high school! There were many cars and people in close proximity. And Mrs. soccer mom goes merrily on her way after missing two pedestrians and a parked Suburu.
Please, tell me I'm not that bad. 




 

Taking control

Some nights as I go to bed, a thought crosses my mind: That I might not wake up.
Nothing gloom or doom about it, mind you. I'm in fairly good health. In my over active imagination an electrical short or accidental spark would set the house on fire. I'd never hear the fire alarm and due to the smoke, I'd never wake up.
You can't tell just by looking how much I rely on the rest of my family. Normally, a child expects the parents to protect them from harm... and rightfully so.
But every night I trust that my wife or one of my daughters will awaken me in time. We discussed escape plans in case of fire and what to do in a worst case scenario, but I sleep the uneasy peace of my life being taken from me.
That may sound weird and it certainly felt strange to write it, but I don't fear death. I came closer to having my ticket punched than I'm going to admit. My glimpse into that twilight time, between the peaceful black and the living world, left me with nothing to fear. Indeed, I'm looking forward to it.
That doesn't mean I want my demise to happen before my time. Quite the opposite: I'm not done here yet!
In the time I have left, (many decades I hope.) I wish to fill it with as much as possible. There are problems to solve, children to raise, oceans to cross and mountains to climb.
I don't fear dieing, I'm afraid of what I will leave unfinished.  
 

Step forward, step back

We had a phenomenal football game Friday night. Quintessential homecoming game. The final score was 52 to 7, I believe. Our team was scoring pretty much at will. A little drizzle came down in the first half. Sitting next to the band, I took off my implant in order to enjoy the show. Problem was, after the game when I went to rejoin the hearing world... nothing happened. The batteries were fine, no sound was getting to me. Right now I'm doing a little tweaking. (Not to be confused with twerking. That would be bad.) The humidity had something to do with it, I think. When I took it off, I put it in my pocket. Let's dry some things out and see where things go.

Today I learned something. It's not often I get to say that. One of my contacts might lead to a business opportunity.  Most people have abilities. Seeing things far away... leaving the deadliest farts. My secret ability, aside from the toxic gas attacks, is networking. That's an overused word, in, my opinion. Let's put it this way: I may not know the answer, but I know the person who does. More to the point: I may not know the answer, but I know how to find an answer.
Not wanting to reveal more, I'll just say there are several irons in the fire. If things develop, I'll let you know.
My family and I purged the garage. There are things to throw away, (the biggest pile.), things for an upcoming garage sale, and stuff we need to keep. (the smallest pile.)
The only reason I'm bringing that up is there are things there I didn't know we had. "I thought I threw that out ages ago." was the catch phrase of the day.  
Disclaimer: My implant is fine. The switch was merely in between settings. It's the little things that trip us up.

Came from here

All of this