Okay, so here is the deal. . . the reason why there hasn't been a blog from me on here is because, well, I had kinda gotten myself kicked out of my blogspot account, don't know how, don't really care how, about two months. I sent myself the password reset instructions and lost them too! Then I have had headaches and have not been doing much more than working out, work, and sleep, and. . . well. . .ya know the normal excuses. But enough excuses, I am back and ready to roll!
My writing spirit has returned and I am ready to pick back up my pen and pad (figuratively, of course, since most of my handwriting nowadays is completely unreadable). And the writing starts below:
Randolph lay face down amid the waist high California grass, the cold steel of the muzzle of military-issue assault weapon pressing into the base of his skull. The foot of the officer holding the gun is resting none too lightly on Randolph's lower back as another officer roughly searches Randolph for weapons or illegal drugs. Presently, the officer comes across Randolph's waist holster concealing his .44 Magnum with laser sighted crosshairs. "Sir," the officer with the boot in Randolph's back calls out, his gun depressing a little deeper into Randolph's neck, "we have something. I think he may be one of them!" Randolph tries to move, but the man presses both his boot and the gun deeper into his neck and back. "And as for you, scumbag, after what you and your kind did to SoCal today," he says, turning to Randolph, his finger twitching eagerly around the trigger, "I really don't need a reason to paint the ground, but please, give me one anyway. I'm begging." His head darts back between Randolph and where his commanding officer is walking towards him, not really knowing who to pay more attention to. Finally, he snaps to attention, as does the person searching Randolph, giving him an opportunity to scramble quietly to his feet and begin to move as steathily through the grass as possible.
Unfortunately for Randolph, the officer doing the search hears the rustle of the grass and spins just in time to see Randolph move out of sight and utters a shout and takes off in pursuit.
Randolph hears the shout and immediately leaps to his feet and begins to sprint, darting quickly over the guardrail and into the oncoming traffic of the northbound lanes, hoping that the officers would not shoot at him among innocent civilians. That hope was dashed moments later when he hears the whine of an M-17 bullet whiz just over his head and scrape the paint off the top of a 2029 Volvo M970.
Yea, I know it's not much, but it's not about quantity, but quality.
On other fronts, there have been exactly 3 headaches in the last 4 headaches, so it appears that the combination of weight loss, medication, and exercise is paying off for me. I am currently working out five to six days a week a minimum of 80 minutes a day, biking an hour of that on a stationary cycle and preparing for a 5K that is scheduled for Saturday, June 5. There will be a blog about that afterwards. . . God willing.
As of this morning, my weight was 188.7 pounds, so I have officially lost 29.8 pounds after being down to a recent low of 187.6 earlier this week (and which I will be back to by 5/31, if not lower).
I welcome your feedback on this or any of my other blogs. Please use the comments button below or shoot me an e-mail at firstname.lastname@example.org.
Until we meet again, remember, two wrongs don't make a right, but three rights make a left.