Happy Blogger

Feb 21st 2010

Sunday. Had I only spent a week here, I would be going home tomorrow. That would seem ridiculous. Not only was I as pale as when I left, it seemed like I was just getting into the rhythm of things down here. A slower pace. Relaxed. I was also finding time to write, which was good, so what good could come of me being uprooted and sent packing back to the Olympic City?

However, I was not going home so I thought, why not get one of the seadoo thingees and take it for a ride. The weather was brilliant and it looked like fun so as long as I didn’t fall into the jellyfish infested waters, I should be fine. It could be fun even.

Unfortunately, they do not run on Sunday. Seems odd as the parasailing boat was out but no seados today, amigo, so sorry. Ah well, that defined what my day would be like then. No action. Reading and writing and rest.

So, I did my usual thing of downloading the blog in the morning. I found I had 10 readers. Whoohooo. I can’t tell you how rewarding that was (and how the comments really meant a lot to me.) A few even had pictures. How cool is that? But there was one picture that spooked me. Lisa’s eye. Staring at me. Judging me. Telling me I had better writer faster, that I had better write more, that I had better be funnier, that I better not mock her in any of my blogs. Yikes.

After blogging, I skipped breakfast and went upstairs to roller on the suntan lotion. Amongst all the HUGE things I miss about not having Margot around is a small one. She is not there to put lotion on my back. So I am left with a huge gap where my apish arms cannot reach.

Oh sure, I could walk up to someone and say, “hey nice speedo, dude, would you mind putting suntan lotion on my back?” but that kind of thing would only work for Lisa (or Sean). I could try something similar with a nice woman but not sure that “hey grandma, care to lather me up,?“ would work either. So I am left with a gap in my defences, a hole in my protection.

Undeterred, I carefully walked out of my room.

Why carefully?

I think the cleaning staff are out to get me. Nothing personal, I think, but I am sure they have some sort of running bet. It started back in my room a few days ago when I skidded half way across my room without falling. Very impressive. But then, two days ago, I go roaring out of my room and whammo, they have iced the floor again and woooohooooshit I go again, slipping, sliding, flailing but somehow remaining upright.

And sure enough, there they were, the teeny little cleaning ladies, looking around the corner at me. I think money exchanged hands and my Spanish may not be that good, but it wouldn’t be surprised they said, oh yes, senora, you win today but tomorrow, see what I do with a lot more soap on the floor.

Sure enough, last night, (NIGHT!!!!), I had come back from supper and writing and came out of the elevator and just as I saw the yellow cone that said, slippery floors, I did my iceskidding dance of death again, with my feet spinning like fred flintstone starting his car.

Yet again, I kept upright though, while, far in the distance, more money exchanged hands.

But I am on to them now. Cone or no cone, I walk like I am on ice at all times.

I should be safe. Right?

Anyway, back to the day. Sat in the sun for 2 hours, though clouds came and went a bit. Arms started to freckle though to the best of my knowledge, my arms never freckled before. Started to get reddish in spots but, again, no real even coverage. Not sure what the hell is going on with my skin. I may come back looking like I was been dosed by a massive exposure to radiation rather than a cool tan.

Read more of Vince Flynn’s high concept thriller and, frankly, he is light years ahead of Brad Thor. The big difference, something Sean does so well now, is that VF does not tell us everything but leaves us guessing or wanting to know more. Oh sure, both heroes will not take out a gun but rather a compact glock 30, 45 ATC (and I have no clue what that is) but VF has honed his craft as a writer while Brad merely mines the headlines. Neither write great prose (like what is in The Road) but then again, at the end of each of their books, the good guys win, the bad guys are all shot in the head and the world is just fine, thank you very much.

When I wasn’t reading, I decided to work on my novel my head. Ok, so what does my hero see when he pulls up to the house? Empty SUV where once there had been federal agents. Why does he walk into the house, why not call 911? What does he see, what makes him draw his gun, what distracts him, what surprise does he find, how best to I end it, a gun to his ear?

I have to say it was easier than I thought and, maybe because my head is a little clearer today, the ideas seemed to flow. From his capture to his release to his evasion to his next steps of investigation to what the villains were up to all came quite quickly. Not sure if I will get time to write them all down today but at least the thought process is going in the right direction for the first time in 4 months or so.

At about 1, went to get some food, found the ice cream machine was working and dispensed a swirlie stack of chocolatie goodness about as tall as some of the children still here. Yums.

Then went backup stairs to do the blog writing (not posting), catch a quick snooze, then ready myself for a walk to the north end of the beach. Not that far but should make for some nice sunset pix.