June 14, 2016

Yet another beautiful day. I know, I know, every single day here in paradise is gorgeous. Okay, smack me.
This was not good. The guy had a Colt 9 mm submachine gun and he was insane. But what made it really bad was he had a hostage, a hugely pregnant woman.
That's the first three lines in the 21st FBI I'm just beginning -- Phew! Can't you picture that? Does it shiver your timbers? Make your heart thump a bit louder? (I do have the option of changing these lines and that's another great thing about writing -- nothing is written in concrete) I still can't picture his face in my mind -- and how old is he?
All of you, it's getting toward the middle of June, kids are out of school (off to summer camp?) and daylight will last until the last cricket chirps, and isn't that wonderful as well as disconcerting? You get used to it by the time the 21st rolls around, but then it starts to slowly shorten again -- No wonder ancient people worshiped nature gods -- imagine seeing this and not knowing why or how --
Today you're going to go outside and walk around your neighborhood. You're going to speak to your neighbors, find out what's going on with their lives, then you might hit up the gym for an hour, but there, you only nod hello because you're busy and focused and this isn't a social hour (although tell that to some of the guys at my gym -- yack, yack, yack) All clear?