Kinda sorry I missed it.
Well . . . I didn't so much miss it as "Let it slide"
It's not like I haven't picked up a paper (or the digital equivalent: which is to say: Log ON), but I've kept my thoughts to myself mostly and haven't really posted a thing since summer vacation began.
I don't have writer's block.
That'd be silly.
I'm almost 39.
And very opinionated.
It'll be decades before I run out of things to say . . . and that's only if nothing happens between now and then.
Trust me though . . . things are gonna happen.
So it wasn't so much writer's block as it is: Get My Ass in Gear Block. I wake up late, make myself something (mostly a fried egg) then I get out my yellow pad and start doodling ideas. Somewhere between there I feed my kid.
Then lunch.
Then maybe some light pick-up.
Maybe a mock draft in Yahoo Fantasy Football.
Go for a swim.
Make dinner.
I really don't know where the time goes.
Then it's like midnight and I can't hold my eyes open for yet another game of Scrabble on my iPad and I give up on the day.
Okay . . . so I missed a few things.
There was that terrible shooting out in South Carolina. Guy goes into a famous black church and just starts unloading.
I might have made a joke here about prayer.
Which would have been tasteless.
I also would like to point out, in the U.S. there are around 30,000 gun deaths each year. That's about 12,000 homicides, 6,000 suicides, and the rest are accidents, police shootings, and believe it or not, home security.
There are about 32,000 automobile deaths.
Just about all of those are accidents.
Now, I know people who like guns . . . I love people who like guns . . . I'd have a gun if I didn't have kids, lived in the wilderness, and didn't spend so much money on gourmet coffee.
I just think it should be really tough to get one. I think you should have to take a test. I think you should have to register it every year. I think you should have to have it smogged every three years, and I think you should have to pay insurance on it.
Separate the sportsman from the crazy through economic pressure.
I think there should be a DSP: Department of Shooty People.
That's sounds all Big Brothery, which it is, no doubt about it. It's so much anti-freedom/big government, liberal quackery, that my inner Rush Limbaugh is making chortling noises just off stage left.
So it's not gonna happen anywhere near my lifetime.
Which I'm fine with.
There are 611,000 deaths each year related to heart disease. Aiming at high fructose corn syrup is a much better bang for your buck.
So to speak.
And I'll be the first person to change my tune when Cuba invades like in "Red Dawn" or the first three days of the Zombie apocalypse. I'd join a well regulated militia in a heart beat as long as they had good coffee.
In other news: The Affordable Care Act is safe once again. Gay marriage is now legal across the United States. Ben Affleck and Jennifer Garner split up after ten years of marriage. Two murderers escaped a maximum security prison. One shot dead. One caught and sent back.
The U.S. won the women's world cup.
But I'll make this prediction: Soccer is so lame.
There's been flooding in places that don't need water, and, like zero flooding in places that do.
Even my neighbor, who use to manicure his lawn with finger nail clippers, has let the browning begin.
Tom Brady is suspended for four games, which will mean nothing to you, and by the time this week is out, that suspension could be reduced.
This is why you don't start reading football news until August. Everything is meaningless conjecture until then.
Doesn't stop me from reading it year round.
I have a problem.
In cool news, the first solar powered globe trotting plane has made it across the Pacific. I am a huuuuuuuge supporter of solar power. I think it's hands down a better alternative fuel that all the rest combined. It's good to see it getting press.
In ME news . . . Daddy Sports Camp has been a healthy success. So far we've done swimming, basketball, tennis, archery, jogging, golf, piano lessons, and Xbox 360.
I'm waiting for my editor to hand me back a manuscript covered in red ink. Kind of a Catch 22. I want it to be perfect . . . but I also wanna know that she's paying attention. Her last note to me was that she was going to take some time with it.
I have no idea what that means.
This week I'll be building a sound curtain so I can start working on my narration skills (a side job as a reader for audio books looks a shit load more fun than working part time at a coffee shop). We will be designing and building planter boxes for an autumn garden once the heat waves have rolled over us. And I think that's probably it.
It's my birthday month.
I like scotch, guitar strings, white tee-shirts, and potato salad.
I need a digital bathroom scale, one of those refillable oil sprayers, and new pair of jogging shoes, scotch and guitar strings.
And a hair cut.
Actually . . . I'll take care of the hair cut myself.
Maybe Thursday.
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