Poop

I took advantage of the beautiful day and went to walk at one of our city's parks today. I couldn't go to the gym because it closes at noon on Saturdays and reopens on Mondays. Just as well because I wouldn't feel right about going to the gym on Sunday. Seems ... not respectful or something.

Anyway, beautiful fall day. The lake was low on water, but the geese and ducks were still out in force. Saw a family feeding them. The park discourages people from feeding them, but it still happens. Some people get quite irate when they see people feeding the geese. Our local newspaper publishes letters ever so often with the writer pointing out how that disrupts the natural behavior of the waterfowl and how it encourages them to stay and poop all over the sidewalks. Yes, that's the main thrust of the letters is how the birds poop everywhere.

It is amazing how much poop they poop. In years past, rain washes the poop away, but because of the drought, the poop is still sitting there. And there. Over there, too. You definitely have to walk the park looking down. Or wear shoes you can take off and put in a sack before you get back in your car. Which is what a friend of mind says she does when she walks in the park.

I've wondered why the city doesn't spray off the sidewalks a couple times of week -- the birds seem to prefer about three areas so it wouldn't be a huge job -- but maybe they do and the birds just keep pooping. By the way, you write "pooping" enough, and it starts to become funny. Don't know why, but it does. Try it; I'll wait.

These birds aren't that afraid of humans. They've learned they're safe in the park. If you have picnic, several brave birds may visit and demand a piece of bread. Sometimes they're quite menacing, especially when they pull a knife and start trash talking. I don't know if you've ever been flogged by a bird, but it's not as much fun as you might think. In fact, geese have such strong wings that they have actually killed men before. No, seriously, I'm not making up this fowl story.

So when people give you the bird, just be grateful that it isn't a geese. And that you don't have to worry about where you walk. Small blessings make up a good life, you know.

Talk to you tomorrow.

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Weird

A weird day today. I didn't get as much done as I had hoped. Slept badly last night, made the writer's meeting (which was sparsely attended), napped, did a few errands, did a few chores, but mostly just lay around. Felt kind of strange and out of sorts all day.

Did play World of Warcraft. Started a Horde character. This will, of course, mean nothing to anyone who doesn't play WoW. I've always played Alliance (the good guys) until now. So far, the Horde side doesn't seem to be the barrel of laughs and great quests that my Horde-playing friends have said that it was. It seems very much like Alliance, although quite a bit more blood thirsty. Landscape is certainly dreary, but I know there are beautiful places in the lands, and as soon as I get out of the beginning area, I'll see them.

Yes, WoW has beautiful scenery. Some is almost breathtaking and would be if it were real. Of course, it wouldn't be WoW without that scenery concealing various creatures who intend to make you their breakfast, lunch, supper, or snack, depending on the time of day. In fact, it has one of the most hostile landscapes of any fantasy land. It gets ridiculous at times as creatures, who should really fear you or at least try to avoid, throw themselves onto your blade or into your spells.

That's why I'm looking forward to the time that the new character can afford a flying mount. Soaring above the landscape is a nice way to look at things without having to constantly fight for your life. Yes, I know the point of the game is to fight and kill until you're the equivalent of a minor god, but I like to look. I love the few quests where you can get in and back out with the prize without having to resort to wholesale slaughter.

I think it would be cool if they offered an exploring achievement. Where the character could travel the lands, visit the cities of both sides, and adventure like that. Maybe a few puzzles or clever traps. Instead of this incessant and mindless slaughter. But I don't think that's where WoW is heading. Oh well, I'm not really WoW's ideal customer anyway.

Hope you had a good Saturday. Hope you have a great Sunday. Talk to you then.

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Chisholm Trail Book Festival 2011

Thought I would share a few photos from the 2011 Chisholm Trail Book Festival.

Here I am at my table. I went for an uncluttered look this time. A few books, bookmarks, business cards, mints, giveaway pens, and two signs. If you saw most of the other tables, you would realize mine was really quite spare.

Here's my friend Kyra who drove over to help me with the table. She's a marvelous person and a great saleswoman.

Here's Sherrilyn Polf, author of A Matter of Trust and other books, reading my book! Sherrilyn's table was next to mine. An excellent table companion.

And here I am reading her book A Matter of Trust. I recommend it, and here's the link to order it from Amazon: A Matter of Trust. 

Here's my friend Jennifer who also drove over to help me. She worked the tables for me and collected a lot of information from the other authors. She also attended a workshop for me.


And here's my roomie Eric who helped during the first half of the Festival and then left to attend a birthday party for his granddaughter and one of his grandsons. He's a great help and support.


And here's an overview of the Festival. Forty or so authors attended, representing almost all genres from mysteries to thrillers to romance. There were also many books dealing with faith and Christianity.

Of course, the Festival will be back next year, and God willing, I will be there, too. Hope you can make it.

And now it's late, and I have a busy day tomorrow. I'll be making a short presentation at Ada Writers and have lots of housework, errands, and writing to do. Talk to you then. Have a great night.

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Making the world go away

I admire the people who come alone to the gym. I see them sometimes. They forge ahead, sometimes listening to music, sometimes talking on their cell phones, sometimes just walking, walking, walking, but they're there. I make a point to smile and say hi to them. Some of them respond eagerly, some friendly, some not at all, and some act startled. Strange that a simple greeting can cause such reactions. But we don't live in a friendly world, so I guess it's not that strange that someone being friendly can cause that reaction.

Occasionally I'm at the gym alone. I always make sure to bring my old iPod and crank up the music. It's a change for me and quite relaxing at times just to exercise with only my thoughts in attendance. I find that I can involve myself deep enough in a daydream to almost forget the strains of exercising. I can't completely shut the world out like I did when I was kid, but I'm been told that wasn't very healthy the way I did it. It's not good when your fantasy world becomes more "real" than the real world, if that makes sense. Although it has certainly helped me write plays and novels, that ability to live in an unreal world. So who knows?

I think most authors have to have the ability to shut the world out. Fictional people have to move us. Fictional places have to reside firmly in our mind's eye. Events, good and terrible but all untrue, have to unfold for us. We live with one foot in this world and one in unworlds. There's just a thin line between writing and madness. I guess the world decides if we've crossed it.

The thing is ... sometimes ... I think my fictional worlds for all their danger and drama are much better than this world. And that's when I have to stop writing for a day or so to allow me to readjust. I know where the lines are. Really I do.

Talk to you tomorrow.

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Confessions of a Luddite

My printer died. For most people, this isn’t a big deal. They just go to Wal-Mart and buy another one. Perhaps they even skip and whistle as they do. Heartless jerks.

But not me. I’m mourning for it. It was such a good printer. Reliable. Inexpensive. Productive. The perfect characteristics for a printer. And now that I think about it, for a girlfriend, too.

I’ve always developed attachments to inanimate things. Computers, cars, rockets, swords, knives, open bank vaults ... sigh. I get used to things as they are. I don’t like new things. What was is often better than what’s coming.

I know, I know. Who would think the greatest fan of the super science stories of Tom Swift Jr. and Rick Brant, Boy Scientist would become a Luddite? (Luddites are people who are opposed to technology. According to Wikipedia, “The Luddites were a social movement of 19th-century English textile artisans who protested – often by destroying mechanized looms – against the changes produced by the Industrial Revolution, which they felt were leaving them without work and changing their way of life. The movement was named after General Ned Ludd or King Ludd, a mythical figure who, like Robin Hood, was reputed to live in Sherwood Forest.” So now you know a piece of information that you will never need again.) I’m not completely committed to being a Luddite, but when I have to replace a beloved printer with one that will not be as good, I get cranky.

I went online to find reviews of various printers. Typically the reviewers give printers one to five stars, one the worst, five the best. Lots of things get five stars, but not printers. Printers get two and a half stars, three star, or three and a half stars. No clear choices. One reviewer loves a printer that another reviewer hates. One magazine gives Printer X a five star review while another magazine gives the same printer no stars at all. What’s an indecisive person to do? What? WHAT? Tell me!

Sigh. But you don’t know, either. You’re just like me, wandering in the forest of technology, banging your face against the trees of information. Eventually after research and hours of searching, we buy a product with no more skill than a blind man playing darts.

Lots of times I simply choose not to choose and make do with what I have or do without. For instance, I need a new cell phone. My cell is so old that it’s made out of Bakelite. It’s powered by steam. It’s still on a party line. It has the battery life and consistency of a firefly. But I haven’t replaced it because when I go to the phone store, I’m overwhelmed by the thousands of choices. Phones of all shapes and colors that surf the Net, play games, do your taxes, order your meals, control your music library, schedule your day, etc. The only thing that’s barely mentioned is making phone calls. Apparently that’s not considered all that important for cell phones anymore. 

When I tell the salesperson that all I want is a phone that makes calls, he or she acts like I’m insulting their mother. And immediately they text her to tell her about me. Oh, yeah, I hate texting, too.

Anyway, I went to Staples and bought a new printer. I can’t say it’s better — I won’t because I'm loyal to the memory of the old printer — but it does work. Maybe that’s all this unapologetic modern Luddite can ask for.

Copyright 2011 by Stephen B. Bagley. All rights reserved. No copying without prior express written permission from the author and publisher. Excerpted from Return of the Floozy. Thanks for reading.

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Pod person

I was better today. Got some sleep. My stomach is still tender, but seems to be on the way to mending. I felt good enough to do a few things. And I went to the gym in the afternoon and exercised.

Currently I'm walking 2 miles or more, walking at least 10 minutes on the treadmill, riding the recumbent bike 10 minutes or more, and doing 50 reps on the arm curl machine. This takes me about an hour and a half. With drive time, basically I'm devoting two hours or so a day to exercise. That's a lot of time. My health, however, is one of my top priorities right now, so it's a good investment. Just wish I could step up my workout so I could get it done in a hour. And I'll get there. I'm speeding up each day. Eventually I'll be able to get all I want to do in a shorter amount of time.

I can't say I will ever be gung-ho-let's-go for the gym, but I can say that it is helping. I have more energy and more vitality. I do like seeing the people there, who are very supportive just as I try to be supportive of them. Some of them really struggle, and it helps me to help them continue. It's a little community where the bonds aren't deep, but they are there.

So ... I guess I'm saying ... hold on to something because this will surprise you ... that I would miss going to the gym if I had to stop going for some reason. Oh, I could quit. I'm certainly not addicted to exercise, but it has moved from being something I dread to something that I -- almost -- enjoy. Don't tell anyone. They will think I've been replaced by a pod person.

And maybe I have. Certainly if you had told me a year ago that going to the gym would be part of my regular routine, I would have thought you were crazy. Something has changed in that time interval. I guess it's me.

Anyway, another day is drawing to a close. I'll be talking to you tomorrow. Have a great night and wonderful tomorrow. And someday we will rise and greet a new world.

4:40

Was very sick last night and this morning. Up until 4:30 a.m. Almost decided I'd just stay up and greet the day by watching the sunrise, but too exhausted. I hate IBD. Too much stress over the past few days. My body decided to punish me for not taking better of me. I get very tired of it happening, but that's the thing with a chronic disease. You learn to live with it. You don't really have a choice.

Very unpleasant. Wish they could figure out a cure or what causes it. We know it's because my overactive immune system attacks my body, but why? What triggers it? Stress contributes to a flare, but I've had them happen for no apparent reason. I can't really find any particular food that's a trigger. Over-eating contributes as does too much sugar. But eventually you just feel helpless. Nothing you do really seems to help. All you can do is live as healthy as you can and know that a flare will eventually go away. And that's how I endure them: knowing they will eventually end.

Truthfully, that's how I get through a lot of things. I was very unhappy at my job at times. I can remember many days when I would tell myself, "Look, it's only four more hours. You can survive four more hours." Or I would get out of bed and dread work with a terrible sick feeling, but I would tell myself, "It's only eight hours. You can survive eight hours."

Or sometimes I would have to cut the time into smaller increments: an hour, 30 minutes, five minutes, even a minute. And that's how I'd make it through the day.

That's how I survived my parents' funerals. I worked out how long the funerals would be, how long until the funerals, how long I'd be at the graveside, how long I would have endure ... and that helped me survive.

Anyway, exhausted now and going to call it a night. Talk to you tomorrow.

300

Exhausted today. Had real trouble getting to sleep. Stomach was unhappy. Hope I'm not looking at another flare. That would be no fun.

Still working on getting my 300 words a day. It's amazing how difficult that can be if I don't plant my butt on the chair and write. By the way, 300 words is a little more than one page a day. Doesn't sound like much, does it? I suggest you try it for 60 days. You will be surprised how much resistance can build up.

At the Chisholm Trail Book Festival yesterday, many authors had several books for sell. I was impressed by their production and vowed to increase mine. There's really no way to learn to write and to write better than to write, write, write. Of course, you need a feedback mechanism in place, so that you learn what works what doesn't, but that's easy compared to the writing.

My roomie asked why I chose 300 words a day. Don't know. That number felt right. It feels doable. Maybe even a little short. But I decided to set a goal of, say, 1000 words a day would only doom me to failure. I think I could do it, but I would be throwing words on paper without any regard to whether the words were right or not. There's a difference between a flood and irrigation. One destroys, other allows growth.

Back to the Festival, several people commented favorably on the new cover for Murder by the Acre. Most didn't know the cover was new, but thought the book was just out. I was delighted that the comments included: "creepy," "mysterious," "very nice," and "one of the best covers here." That last comment -- from a lady from Texas who purchased MBTA -- meant a lot to me because there were a lot of nice covers at the festival.

And now I'll close and be talking with ya tomorrow. Take care!

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Long but fun day

The Chisholm Trail Book Festival was fun and informative, but exhausting. I came home, intending to do several things around the house, but only got the uploading and organizing of the travel supplies done. Too tired otherwise. Maybe I can do a few of my chores tomorrow afternoon, but I expect I will wait until Monday.

My table was right next to Jodi Thomas, a New York Time best selling author. She was swamped with fans and book sales. I got to listen as she worked the crowd. I was amazed at her skill with people and how well she related to them. Admittedly, she's been doing this for years, but it was still awesome. She put her fans at ease and made each of them feel important. I was able to talk to her briefly. As nice and smart as she could be and generous with her thoughts and advice. I've not read her books -- she writes romance -- but her fans were wildly enthusiastic. Here's her website: Jodi Thomas where you can find out more info and order her many books. I'm going to look for one of her books at the library and give it a read.

Only six people who had tables at the Festival last year were there this year. That was disappointing because I made several good friends then that I was looking forward to seeing. Still, I made new ones and saw some great publicity ideas and book covers.

Many self-published books were on display. Overall, they impressed me with their excellent production values. However, there were a couple that needed some editing and design assistance. Several "small press" books were also out, but most of them didn't look as good as the self-published books. Many of the best looking books were published by the major houses -- although I saw one by a major house that was simply ugly and looked shoddy. The best of the self-published looked as good or better than the major houses. Of course, I didn't get a chance to compare content.

Anyway, time to post this before it becomes tomorrow. Hope you have a good night and great tomorrow. Talk to you then.

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Friday Friday

Walked two miles on the track, walked on the treadmill for 10 minutes, and 50 reps on the arm curl machine. I wanted to ride the recumbent bike, but two ladies stayed on them until I finally gave up. Oh, well, the treadmill was difficult. It's different from walking on the track. It's all good.

Tomorrow I will be at the Chisholm Trail Book Festival in Duncan, Oklahoma. I hope to sell a few books, sign some, meet people, network like crazy, get promotion ideas from other authors, etc. I enjoyed it last year. Hope this year will draw more people. Be thinking of me.

Today I worked on creating some promotion ideas, continued to rewrite Murder by the Mile, went to the gym as I mentioned above, did household chores, went to Wal-Mart and spend too much money, created a t-shirt transfer for Murder by the Acre, and now I'm posting on my blog.

I'm very tired and have to be up at 6:30 a.m. tomorrow because I have to leave by 7:30 a.m. to get there on time. Hope it's not raining. I don't like driving in the rain, but we need the rain so much, I won't complain if it is.

It's been cooler here. We got rain last night, and today it got up into the 80s. I dislike cold weather as a rule, but after this brutal summer, I'm longing for crisp cool fall nights and chilly afternoon rain. I'm sure I'll be complaining when winter arrives, but until them, I'm going to enjoy the cooler temps. Also, I have a lot of nice long-sleeve shirts that I can finally pull out of the closet.

Anyway, time to get ready for bed. Hope you have a great night and wonderful tomorrow. Be talking to you then.

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58

The gym just about did me in today, but I survived and staggered home. I'm trying to push myself harder and faster. Today I walked 2 miles, rode 15 minutes for 2.65 miles on the recumbent bike, and did 50 reps with the hand weights.

And also in fitness news, I have lost 58 pounds from July 2010 to today, 31 pounds of which has been lost since January this year. I don't weigh myself often. In fact, hadn't done so since January. I got too focused and depressed about my weight loss when I weighed myself weekly. But tonight I wanted to see how much weight I had lost. I knew I had lost some because of the way my clothes were fitting, but I didn't know the amount. I figured 30 or so pounds. Fifty-eight was a nice surprise.

So all this walking and working is really working. Hard to tell at times. Got to keep going, keep moving, keep watching what I eat, generally be mindful. Losing weight is great, but more than that, my goal is to be as healthy as I can be: physically, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually.

Remember: I'm training to walk in the Fireball Classic next year in July. It's a goal that I think I can reach. Several of my friends have said they will walk it to me. I think about me having a Fireball Classic t-shirt, and it makes me smile. Goofy, I know, but it does.

My new printer is performing well. I'm a little worried about the ink consumption. I'm going to have to watch that closely, but it's time for me to be more careful about my money and spending anyway. Just another thing to keep track of. I can handle it.

Well, time for bed. To attempt to sleep. How I'd love an uninterrupted night sleep. That would be a true blessing. Good night.

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Busy day today

Busy day today. Household chores, errands, exercise, writing, printing. Printed out the entire Murder by the Mile so I could find and highlight all the places that mention the previous murderer or give a clue to his/her identity and need to be replaced by the new murderer and the new clues. That's going to be quite a chore, but the book is going to be better.

Got my hair cut and then went to the gym in the afternoon. Only walked a mile, but did 15 minutes on the exercise bike. My feet were really hurting me when I was walking so that's why I cut that short. I couldn't get on the arm curl machine because other people were lined up to use it, but I did 25 reps each arm at home with my hand weights.

Back to the writing, I have a new goal of writing 300 or more words a day. (I started Sunday.) Doesn't matter where the words go: MBTM, Circles, Debt Free At Last!, Harbor Street, Createslate, etc. Maybe even Facebook. The point is the destination, but the journey. I will have written at least 33,300 words by December 31. Right now my count is 1554 so I'm running a bit ahead, which is what I hope will happen. When I go a whole year, my count will be at least 109,500. The point of this is to put my time in. Many times I don't want to write as much as I want to have written. If you can follow that.

It's been a summer of breakdowns. My car, the house air conditioner, the house electrical box, my printer, components of my home stereo system, the hot water heater, and yesterday the DVD player. Things wear out. No matter how carefully you care for an item, eventually you have to replace it. Printer, hot water heater, and one home stereo component have all been replaced. The others were repaired or awaiting replacement. But next up, the roof on my house has to be replaced. No leaks yet, but it's getting there. Sign. There's everything in the world except enough money and time.

Time for bed. Talk to you tomorrow.

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Walking alone

Went to the gym by myself today. Listened to my ancient iPod as I walked two miles on the track, rode 10 minutes on the recumbent bike, and did 50 reps on the arm curl machine. Came home exhausted, but not as badly as I have been. Although my arms dropped off a few minutes ago. I'm typing this with my nose.

Anyway, not much else to tell you about today. I did laundry, cleaned house -- still recovering from the weekend, and wrote a bit. That was my day. It doesn't sound productive, but it felt productive.

Murder by the Mile may finally be moving along. I changed the murderer a couple of days ago, and many things started to fall into place. New scenes presented themselves to me. More conflict, more excitement, and some actual sleuthing from our heroes. Wish I had thought of this change last year. If I had, we'd be holding a copy of MBTM in our hands by now. And I'd be at work on the sequel. Well, better late than never.

Still taking my Vitamin D. Just took my blood sugar. It was high, dang it, but I forgot to take my diabetes meds this morning. My head isn’t attached in the mornings. I stumble around until the afternoon. Maybe I’ll make a list. Morning chores or something like that. I do like lists.

Have a lunch scheduled with a friend tomorrow. And then to The Salon for a haircut. (Yes, they spell it like that: The Salon. I asked the owner why. She said it was distinctive.) Then exercise again. More writing and laundry in all the times between. And I need to start work on the September family newsletter. So a busy day again.

Guess I should close and get to bed. Maybe to sleep. Stranger things have happened, ya know. Good night!

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Good day

Met my goals today. Wrote roughly 300 new words on Murder by the Mile and edited a couple of chapters to update for the new murderer. The change seems to be pulling the book together. Originally I had the murderer be an out-of-towner. I didn't realize how that would stifle our heroes. Part of the charm of the series is the residents of Ryton with all their quirks and follies. With the murderer not being a resident, the residents didn't get to shine as they should. Wish I had stumbled on this sooner. I was stubborn and didn't want to give up the words and work I had already done.

Walked at the gym, but only did two miles and didn't do the bike or arm curl machine. Didn't feel well at all. Weather is changing -- finally -- and my joints are really aching. Also, still having sleep problems, so my get up and go was plumb tuckered out.

Thought I'd share a few of my recent Tweets of Wisdom.

The secret of life is that you have to find a way to be happy. Hopefully this doesn't involve cannibalism.

Hey, I lost enough weight that I can touch my toes again. Although no one has told me why I would want to.

Oh, I only have 10 toes. I want to put that rumor about them to rest.

They say Congress hates Obama. I'm beginning to think they don't like us much, either.

Been told I shouldn't be so discouraged by Congress. That's like telling a drowning man he shouldn't be bothered by all that water.

Another one of my therapists went mad today. That's three in a row. I wonder what's happening to them.

People ask what inspires the murderous ideas for my book, and I realize Congress has given me something after all.

Remember the good old days when they burned politicians at the stake. What? They burned heretics? Even nostalgia isn't a comfort now.

Don't know why I've been so down on Congress. No, wait, I do. They're mean-spirited, greedy, short-sighted, unfaithful batweasels.

Anyway, that's it for tonight. Hope life is treating you well.

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Last week activities

Writing:
Mostly spend last week getting ready for the weekend role-playing event "Brave New World: The Vampire Sanction." It went okay. I had too many puzzles and not enough action, but still, everyone seemed to enjoy it. I just thought the pace lagged a bit.

This coming Saturday I will be signing (and selling) books at the Chisholm Trail Book Festival. Hope the Festival draws a lot of people. It's the second year for it.

Also, starting tomorrow, Writing Comes First. Which means I will write before I do anything else (chores, watch TV, read, etc.) in my day, unless it's a doctor appointment or an emergency. If I really want to be a writer, then I'm going to have to choose to write. I need to finish Murder by the Mile. Got to so I can move on. And sell it for a bit of money. Cash is tighter than squeaky.

Health:
Added machines to my exercise routine at the gym. Now I'm walking 2 1/2 miles a day, riding 10 minutes on the recumbent bike, and doing 20 reps on the curl machine. Going to hold at that for two or three weeks until I adapt -- I've been barely able to function after going to the gym so I need a bit of time to let my body adjust -- and then I'll add another machine focusing on upper body strength.

Still having trouble sleeping. Very annoying.

Life:
Well, being busy has kept the Black Dog Gang mostly at bay. That and plenty of green tea, Vitamin D, and sometimes a bit of caffeine in the morning.

That was last week, and now we're done with Sunday and heading for Monday. Hope we all have a great week.

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Thoughts while walking alone

Normally I have friends who walk along with me with the fitness center. They supply companionship, conversation, and occasionally a shock prod,  all of which keeps me putting one foot in front of another until the time of torture has passed.

But the other day, everyone was busy — or so they said — so I slogged around the track by myself. My commitment to walk warmed my heart and made me feel quite virtuous for about 10 minutes. Then my usual lazy self said, “Let’s stop.”

“No,” I said. “I must get healthy.”

My lazy self knows there’s no good answer to that, so it simply said, “Here’s a bench. Let’s sit down. You don’t want to have a heart attack.”

“I’ll rest in a bit,” I said. “After one mile. Get off my back!”

A lady in a yellow jogging suit passed me. She gave me a strange look, which made me wonder if I had been talking aloud. I hope not. Nothing ever good comes of that, especially on a date. I smiled at her, and she sped up and left sole marks on the floor. Sigh.

“See what you caused,” I said, then realized I was still doing it. My lazy self laughed at me silently.

A few more people passed me. That doesn’t bother me. A lot of young runners race around the track. It bothers me a bit when that lady with a walker passes me, but two of the walker legs have wheels so I’m sure that helps her.

Sixteen times around the track makes a mile. Thirty-two times makes a two miles. I’m currently walking two and a fourth miles. Or attempting to. Some days, particularly when it’s hot, I stop when I throw up or faint. All in all, I’m a delightful person to walk with.

Anyway, the internal conversations have allowed me to log four laps. Only 32 more to go. Whee. I keep track of how many laps I’ve walked with a counter that I bought from Amazon. I click it each time I complete a lap. I got the counter because I discovered I lose count, particularly on the later laps when my brain is starved for oxygen. Truthfulness — and my walking companions — compel me to point out that I tended to overestimate the number of laps. For instance, I might have only walked eight laps when I would think I had walked 10 or maybe 26.

When I first started this, I had trouble even making eight laps, but now I can do my 36 and usually don’t have to go to the emergency room afterwards. I try to not faint because there’s this bearded guy at the fitness center who attempts to give mouth-to-mouth to anyone who even looks ashen faced. Well, I think it’s a bearded guy, but I’ve been told his name is Hilda and SHE used to be on the Russian Olympic team. I prefer the ER.

By this time, I had completed 16 laps so I got to sit down. The fitness center has three benches along the track. I try to pick the one closest to the air conditioner vent, but it’s usually taken by other people or the Sweater, who is not an article of clothing but a man who produces sweat by the gallon. Only a horse could produce more. He actually leaves a puddle on the bench. He seems to be a nice guy, although I don’t know anyone who gets close enough to find out.     

Just another 20 laps, I told myself.

Myself pouted quietly.

I heaved my body off the bench and started walking again. I try to work on plots for my books or think deep thoughts while I walk. I’m told  some people can enter into a state of heightened consciousness and actually meditate while exercising. Unless meditation is characterized by the desire to throw up, I haven’t achieved that state yet. Supposedly you can get to where you enjoy exercise. I have an acquaintance who claims to enjoy exercise. I’m always wary around him. A man who will lie about that will lie about other things, too.

I was ready to quit, but the counter only showed 29 laps. I wondered if it was broken or maybe I forgot to click a few times. Like seven times?

But I can’t convince myself. So I plodded around the track, sweating like the Sweater, heart racing like a horse, and my mind buzzing with all the things I was going to say to my lazy walking companions who had wimped out.

Copyright 2011 by Stephen B. Bagley. All rights reserved. Excerpted from the forthcoming book Return of the Floozy. No copying without prior express written permission from the author and publisher. Thanks for reading. 

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The end of the story

This is how their story ended...

Eve walked into Milligan's with her friend Bette, and as always, her eyes searched the restaurant for his shoulders and that ratty leather jacket and his soft worn hat that felt like velvet when she touched it. For seven weeks, she had searched all their places. The coffee shop, the bookstore, the library, the pier, the Seafood Shack. But Jeremy had disappeared from her life.

She didn't know how to live without him, but she was trying to learn how. She took a gym class, went out to movies with Bette and her other friends, and focused on work, turning out reports with an efficiency that even her boss noticed. A couple of guys -- Kevin from Sales and Doug from Receivables -- asked her out, and she said yes. Nice enough dates, and she had enjoyed them. Kevin even made her laugh, and Doug was sweet. But she kissed them good night at the door.

Bette threaded her way through the crowd, looking for a table. Eve followed, wondering when she would stop feeling that pit in her stomach when she didn't see him. She stumbled and caught herself on the edge of a table. The men seated at it smiled at her. She apologized, backed away, turned toward Bette, and saw Jeremy.

He didn't see her. He stood by a table talking to two other men. The crowd closed between them, and she lost sight of him. For a moment, she paused, feeling her heart beating hard. Then she pushed forward, leaving Bette behind, weaving her way forcefully toward her last chance.

"Jeremy," she said.

He turned and saw her. He started to smile, but it faded away.

"Eve," he said. "How are you?"

"Fine," she said. But that wasn't what she meant to say. She meant to say she was falling to pieces, her heart broke, her life in shambles, but the words wouldn't come.

"Where's Ben?" he asked.

"I don't know," she said. "Back with his wife, I guess. We're not together."

Jeremy nodded. "Sorry to hear that."

"I broke up with him," Eve said, wanting him to understand. "I sent him away. I remembered what you said. 'If he cheats on his wife, why wouldn't he cheat on you?' I should have listened."

"He cheated on you," Jeremy asked with a flash of anger in his voice. Surely that meant something, she thought.

"No," Eve said. "I just realized he would. I realized the love of his life was him." She laughed.

Jeremy took a deep breath. "Well, I'm sorry to hear things didn't work out. It's good to see you. I've got to go. I'm leaving New York in a couple of days. I have a lot of packing still to do. Got a job in Boston."

"Oh," she said. "Boston. Good. Good. Is it one you wanted?"

"It's a job," he said. "I've always liked Boston." He grinned. "Great clam chowder."

She laughed to keep from crying out. He's moved on, she thought. He's moving away.

"It's good to see you," he said. "You look ... beautiful." He smiled. "Well, take care. Tell your parents I said hi."

"I will," she said. "You take care. Enjoy that chowder."

And he walked away while she stood in a crowd of strangers and she realized that would be her life -- to always be alone in a crowd.

"No!" she said. She took three quick steps and grabbed his arm. "Jeremy, wait."

He turned back, his face surprised. "What?"

She couldn't find the words.

"What, Eve?" he asked again. "I need to go."

"Okay," she said. "Can we talk outside? Just for a minute."

He looked down at the floor. "I don't think that would be a good idea. Don't you think we've hurt each other enough? I know I can't take any more. Can you?"

She swallowed. "Just for a minute. I need to tell you a few things. It won't take long."

He took a deep breath. "For a minute."

They found a bench in the tiny park across the street.

"Well," Jeremy said. "What do you want from me, Eve?"

"Nothing," she said, but her heart called her a liar. "I needed to apologize."

"No," he said. "No. I don't want to do this."

"Please," she said. "I just wanted to know how sorry I was. How I would give anything to go back and fix things."

"Eve, we're--"

"I know you're not in love with me anymore," she said. "I know we can't go back. And that you don't want to. You've moved on. Good. I'm glad. I want you to be happy." She could feel the tears behind her eyes threatening to overflow. "I wanted you to know I will always want the best for you."

He looked away.

She wiped her eyes. Time to go. Time to walk away. Time to let him walk away. Time to face the bleakness ahead. She needed a few moments to gather her strength.

He stood and took a couple steps away. She wanted to weep, but she didn't. This was the result of her decisions. She had made them, and she would live with them. She had enough courage to do that.

She rose. "I'd better let you go. I'm sorry if I hurt you."
He turned, his face shadowed. "I'm at a place in my life--"

"You don't have to explain," she said. "I understand." She shook her head and wiped her eyes. "We had something ... lovely, and I broke it. I didn't mean to. But I guess that doesn't mean a thing. I just wanted you to know I miss you. Oh how I do."

"Let me finish," he said. "I'm at a place in my life where there are more good-byes than hellos. More people lost than found."

She watched him, almost afraid to breathe.

"Comes with getting older," he said with a short laugh. "You can't imagine how ... lost I've felt without you. How empty. But then I saw you with him, and I was angry. It was better to be angry than empty. But now ..."

He was silent for longer than she could bear, but she bore it anyway. Please God please she prayed. Another chance and I won't blow it. Please oh please.


"Too many goodbyes," he said finally. "Not enough hellos. I don't want that for my life. I don't want to tell you goodbye." He looked at her a long time. "Hello. How are you? I missed you. I missed you."

She sobbed and launched herself into his eager arms.

This is how their story ended and began anew.

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