Do you find this amusing?

Today, my wife and I took my three youngest daughters to Carowinds, a Disneyworld wannabee near Charlotte, N.C. Soon after arriving, we waited 45 minutes in 100-degree heat to get on the Rip Roarin' Rapids, only to have the ride shut down about 20 people from our turn to get on.

Later, we bought and shared two seafood platters at $12.99 apiece, six bottled waters at $3.75 apiece ($4.06 after taxes), and six Diet Cokes at the same price. We tried to buy two margaritas at $7.49 apiece, but they couldn't sell them to my wife and I because they had no one working the cash registers who was 21 or older. Overall, we spent more than $100 on food and drink and were still hungry. And I can tell you, it's not because we're pigs.

I actually enjoyed the hokey ice skating show, but only because the theater was air conditioned. Anything with either air conditioning or shade was awesome.

Overall cost: just shy of $300, not including gas. And there was nothing priceless about it.

Ironically, we all were in great moods on the ride home, simply because we were riding home (and my Honda CRV has great air conditioning).

As you can tell, we're just not amusement park people.

Flashes of brilliance

What is it about fireflies that is so fascinating? For me, there's almost a supernatural allure. The way they come and go, flashes of temporary brilliance, unplanned, unpredictable.

Though I was born in New York, I spent most of my life in Florida on the Gulf of Mexico, where there are no fireflies. Since I've been in South Carolina the past few years, I've been reintroduced. They never cease to amaze me.

My daughters love them too. They chase them down and capture them in glass jars. I only allow them to imprison the fireflies for a minute or so before letting them go.

As if mere glass could contain them.

Aren't I special?

Things I'm really good at:

* Independently twitching my eyebrows.
* Whistling.
* Thumb wrestling.
* Kissing.
* Cooking.
* Taking care of my teeth.
* Driving a car.

Things I'm pretty good at:

* Bowling.
* Shooting wadded-up paper into trash cans.
* Giving advice.
* Being polite.
* Listening.
* Maintaining an exercise routine.
* Swimming underwater.

Things I'm okay at:

* Singing.
* Ironing.
* Mingling at parties.
* Making the bed.
* Keeping in touch with my loved ones.
* Drinking in moderation.
* Avoiding road rage.


Things I'm terrible at:

* Touching my toes.
* Dancing.
* Remembering things.
* Keeping sports in perspective.
* Keeping quiet while someone else drives.
* Not getting depressed at the end of a vacation.
* Being a good person all of the time.

Boo!

I have at least one mischievous side to my personality. It cracks me up when someone is startled. For the most part, I have grown out of sneaking up on someone and outright scaring them, but if I innocently walk up to someone and startle them, I will chuckle over it long after I should ... sometimes even the next day or the day after.

I don't watch much TV, but occasionally I watch The Dog Whisperer, and it never ceases to crack me up when the dogs freak out while being admonished by Cesar. When mockingbirds dive-bomb cats, I laugh. When turtles withdraw into their shells, I giggle. I still chuckle over a time when I went on the rollercoaster Space Mountain at Disney World, and an elderly woman in front of me screamed at her husband the entire ride: "Henry, oh, Hennnnnry!"

I'm not sure what this is about. I sincerely do not wish anyone harm. But when someone is startled, it cracks me up. It's an immature weakness, but I can't deny it.

Bring on the rain

It's been raining here all day. Strong, steady rain. Upstate South Carolina has been in a drought for several years now, but it's easing ... and the easing is beautiful and tender.

Life is so dynamic ... yet impermanent. All living beings are barreling toward death like a train with no brakes. We churn past beautiful countrysides, all on the same bittersweet ride. What can you or I do but ride along with everyone else?

I remember walking into a room at a Hospice center knowing that my mom had just recently died. I had left her for a few hours to go home for some sleep and a shower, fully expecting that she'd still be breathing when I returned. My mom was an unusual person, lazy but nonjudgmental, drunken but artistic. Her dead body shocked me. In front of several Hospice nurses, I cried out, "Oh, mom!" It was all I could say. Otherwise, I just cried. For her. For me. For us all. Have we not all cried this way?

Bring on the rain.

Blockhead

I've never been the type who has suffered from writer's block. I've had occasional writer's slowdown, but never the complete block. I've always figured that if I can write just one sentence, then I can write another, and another, and so on. And it's always worked.

But when it comes to this blog, I've got writer's block. There are few things less interesting than a dead blog, but that's what has happened to this one, which I suppose is appropriate for a blog with Death in the title.

My excuse is that my search for a new publisher has taken the wind out of my sails. And to be honest, this is one of those rare cases where the excuse is legitimate. I just can't seem to get fired up about it anymore. If/when the great news finally occurs, I think I will be rejuvenated in a big way. It'll be as if I've discovered a bottle of blue pills that pumps up my fingertips rather than my you know what.

I have most definitely grown to admire people who can sustain a blog for months and months and even years. There's a discipline there that is quite impressive.

From beginning to end

While waiting to (hopefully) hear great news from a large publisher, I have spent the last few months doing another full edit on my six-book series. Though I revised each book in the series about a dozen times, this was the first and only time that I have done a revision from the start of book 1 until the end of book 6, as opposed to one book at a time. This was very helpful to me, and I made a lot of nice changes and even a couple of crucial catches.

Also, in this last edit I approached the series more as a reader than as the writer, and I found myself enjoying the process. Overall, I reaffirmed my confidence in the series and was quite proud of the final result. There's nothing wrong with patting yourself on the back, especially in the privacy of your own mind.

Now, I've decided to take on a couple of short stories. This should help take my mind off the waiting.

Anything to take my mind off the waiting!!!