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It was one of those days that sort of punched me in the snotbox and only occasionally let me up for air.

I'm talking about today. Tuesday. June 23rd. 2009.

Yes. Tuesday.

It's the hottest day of the year today. I woke up this morning and knew it was going to be sticky and gross. Minnesota. Land of 10,000 lakes and some of the most humid weather ever. Regardless, I work up ready to face the day with earnest, even if it was a day at work filled with meetings.

NOTE: I'm not a fan of meetings.

I did my usual walk from the parking lot to the building where my team meets once a week. Stupid move, but I sort of like to get away from the people on the shuttle bus who complain about work and it's really nice to spend some quality time with my iPod (Robotron 2.0).

By the time I got to the building about a half mile away, I was DRIPPING with sweat. Nice. Way to start the day.

From there, I had trouble staying awake in the meeting. Don't know if I'm still reeling from my crazy weekend of filming, but my eyes were heavy as all get-out. I made it though, got into my 2nd meeting and was just itching to get some work done.

So...when it was over, I walked back...through the heat and humdity.

Here's the thing, folks. I sort of don't mind that it's crazy-hot. I mean, we spend all winter (all 7 months of it) complaining that it's so stinking cold, that when it's hot, we complain about that. So, even though I might go "OH GOOD LORD" when I walk outside, I'm really thinking: At least it's not 7 feet of snow. I can do this.

I got through the rest of the day mostly unscathed. Sure, I thought another meeting of mine was happening an hour before it was actually scheduled. And yeah, I sort of punted when it came time to talk about stuff in the big-important-meeting-at-the-end-of-the-day, but I got through it.

God. I just realized how much my work life sounds like a Dilbert comic strip. Ugh. Need to do something about that.

One of the other reasons I'm not a big fan of Tuesdays is because we have manadatory drills for the fire department that I work at in my spare time. Tonight was no exception. On the way to drill, driving in one of the fire trucks, I was just minding my own business. The window was down, the conversation light and WHAM!!!

Something from outside, flew into the window and smacked me in the face. I hollered out and grabbed at my check and felt something thick and fuzzy. I didn't get a look, but I fired it out the window. It seriously was like someone wound up and punched me right in the gob. It stung like you don't want to know...

That's when it hit me . I GOT STUNG.

Now, I'm 36 years old (for another 4 months, anyway) and I've NEVER been stung by a bee before. And I'm a boy. I've done all kinds of dumb things. I've thrown rocks at beehives, I've stuck sticks into hornet's nests, you name it. Never have I been stung by anything. Until now.

I was like a kid. I told everyone in the department. "I got stung." "Seriously. Right in my face. Stung."

Even a fire chief who also serves in the Navy and was back for a week from Iraq got to hear about it.

"Mr. Troupe! It's been a long time. Good to see you."
"Good to see you, Greg. I got stung by a bee."
"Oh."

But even so, I can't bag on this Tuesday TOO much. Why is that you might ask? Well, two things, but I'm only going to talk about one.

FutureSand got picked by the judges to appear in the 'Best of 2009' show on Thursday night!!! Yes!!! Only 20 minutes before the bee stung me in my face, I got the news from Jason. We're in the top 15 (out of 90-something!) and we'll see how we do against some heavy hitters!!!

So, while Tuesdays generally suck. This one? Not so bad.

y mostly

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Hi. I'm not dead. I swear. I've just been sooo wrapped up in writing Goodhalo II that I sort of put the ol' bloggity blog on the back-burner.

You forgive me, right?

No? I'll send a refund.

Here are 10 quick...and I mean QUICK things that have happened and will likely discuss in further detail coming up. Yeah...consider this like a sneak preview of crap to come.

(in no order of importance, y'all)

1. I dropped out of the Great Mustache Growing Contest of 2008. Actually about 5 days ago. Ah....I feel like a meeee-lion dollars.

2. Bunk bed. As in, Travis (age 3.5) now has one.

3. Rage Against the Machine, Ben Folds, Tegan & Sara. As in, I get to go see those three shows (seperately) in the next month.

4. Olympics? Can end anytime, okay thanks.

5. Flight of the Conchords? Best show I've seen on DVD in a long time.

6. I get to write 3 more books that'll get published next year.

7. I won an advanced copy of the Courtney Summers book Cracked Up to Be. Remember how she totally won the haiku contest and won a copy of MY book? Crazy serendipity, yo.

8. The quest for agent-hood has begun! One full is out there, still...waiting. Can you see why I'm writing the sequel now? And the third one next summer?

9. Crazy EMT call a couple weeks back. Cra-zy. It has to do with Dairy Queen, my psychic abilities(?) and bicycles.

10. We find out what kind of kid we're having (hopefully) a week from Friday. You know...like if it's gonna be a boy or a girl?

There. So when I come back, I'll have all kinds of crap to rap at you about. It'll be like old time again. You just wait.

You. Just. Wait.

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So, I'm a bit of a nerd. That really doesn't come as much of a surprise to anyone at this point, does it? No? Good. Let's continue.

I was quietly, happily working on edits for Draft 3 of GOODHALO when the ol' pager went off. Turns out some poor soul wanted to check off of our mortal coil, didn't fare so well in the attempt and we were called out to save the day.

Day? Saved.

When I got back from the fire station, I thought about just shutting down the works and calling it a night, but I typically have a hard time getting to sleep after a fire or EMS call. It's like the adrenalin or something still is running around inside me, going:

Hey...is there more action? Are we gonna drive fast again, TKT? Huh? Huh? Can we? Should we?

So, I decided instead to plug away at the book a bit longer. As I was working on it, I realized a few things:

One of my main characters shares the name of a police officer/paramedic on the Woodbury Police Department. COMPLETELY coincidental, I think. My character's first name (who is one of my favorites in the book) is this guy's last name. It's funny because I said the guy's name before we headed to the hospital and it didn't dawn on me until I was home that I'd done that. Don't care. I'm keeping the name. It's too perfect IMHO.

Secondly, I've been thinking a lot about the second GOODHALO book that I'm hoping to work on soon...like in the next few months. I think that's a good thing. It's getting me to make subtle changes to Book 1 to make Book 2 that much more...robust?

Is that the word?
I don't know.

I like the word robust, so yeah...

Anyway, I sort of already know how Book 2 is going to go, at least the skeleton of it, but to make myself even geekier/nerdier/a bigger dork, I went ahead and made myself a 'teaser' sort of poster for the new book and I gotta tell you...I am STOKED to get working on this thing.

Seeing the font, my title and the little picture I added made me get all tingly inside and I was again reminded of how much damn fun I have writing my goofy books. It was like a little inner pep talk and affirmation all rolled up into a simple little mini poster thing-a-ma-jig.

Can I share the poster? Unfortunately, I can't. The title and the picture I use sort of gives away the big 'reveal' at the end of Book 1 and that's just not a good idea.

But trust me when I say to thee...

It's gonna rock.

*end self indulgent post*

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You know, I really, really wanted to do one post a day from Monday thru Friday, but I came up short one post. But, if you're paying attention, you'll notice I cheated. I rolled back the clock since this happened on Friday night. You dig?

Presenting... (what I'm sure won't be a regular feature since I have the attention span of a gnat)

First off, a little background: When I'm not writing for kids all across this great land of ours, I'm a firefighter and an EMT. Maybe you've heard of our kind. We squirt water on hot stuff, and put band-aids and such on those who have owies. Yeah, those guys (and gals!).

Since we occasionally like to spend time celebrating the goofy 2nd career most of us have chosen, there's need to go out and party up and recount all the adventures we've had over the past year. Typically we call those things Appreciation Dinners. During them, there's dinner and also some appreciation.

With me so far?

Okay. While I'd love to tell you this is the time of the year for Woodbury Fire's annual appreciation dinner, it isn't. Nope. A neighboring town was having one and they needed some of the fine, upstanding firefighter/EMTs from Woodbury to watch their town (a.k.a. stand-by) while they poured copious amounts of liquor-y drinks down their respective hatches.

This is where 5 other guys and myself come in.

Here's the thing about doing a stand-by for another station: It's easy. I'm talking, sitting around at their fire station, figuring out what we'll eat (on their dime) and messing around for a good 8-10 hours easy. In past stand-bys, I've brought my Xbox and hooked it up to their digital projector so I could play Burnout Revenge on a seven foot wide space on the wall.

Yes. This is the good life you hear about sometimes on E! Entertainment Television.

I sign up for them whenever I can. It's really a good excuse to just hang out with a couple of the other jokers and do your thing. I decided to be a deluxe nerd this time around and work on GOODHALO. (Hey! The thing isn't going to edit itself).

On the way to the station where we were needed, I chitted and chatted with my co-pilot in the grass-rig.

TKT: You know, I hate to jinx it, but for as many times as I've done a stand-by for LSCV, I've never had a call. It's sweet. Almost like free money.

Chris: Me neither. It's just a good excuse to eat some steak.

TKT: Yeah, I've never really partook of the steak meal option when you guys have cooked it up in the past. I just go the easy route and get a frozen pizza or something.

Chris: I like steak.

TKT: Hey, I like steak, too. I just don't like all the clean-up and dishes and what-have-you.

Chris: Steak. (drools)

(So, the conversation may not have gone exactly like that, but pretty close. Chris really likes steak.)

We get to the station and say hello to the captain and the other firefighters who are turning the joint over to us. No sooner are we there, the pager goes off. Seriously. 5 minutes and we're being called to a house where a drunk woman is having:

- chest pains
- anxiety
- difficulty breathing
- a conniption fit

I jinxed it, all right.

Anyway, long story short, we're gone for like an hour and a half, helping this woman out, dropping her off at the hospital, the whole deal. As we get back, Chris and I start talking about how hungry we are.

Wait a second...you didn't think this post was about firefighting and EMT stuff, did you?

Chris: I hope they didn't make those steaks already.

TKT: You know what? I think I'll have a steak tonight, too. That's it. I want to fit in with you guys tonight. My only hesitation is that I'm having steak again tomorrow night, too.

Chris: Like having steak two nights in a row is a bad thing.

TKT: Just drive, Chris.

Chris: Steak.

Back at HQ, a couple of us are sitting and watching complete garbage on TV, wasting our time in anticipation of the steak. A guy (who I'll call Ben since that's his name) comes in and the following exchange occurs:

Ben: How do you guys like your steak?

Other guys: Medium.

Ben: (points to me) You?

TKT: I like mine medium-well.

At this point, ol' Ben scratches his head and looks like I asked him the square root of squirrel.

Ben: When you say medium-well, what do you mean?

TKT: You know, just after it turns pink and is about to turn brown. That's perfect.

Ben: So, you like it when it's not pink anymore but just barely brown.

I blink twice and wonder what I'd just said. Since I don't want to be a jerk and want to eat steak with the rest of the dudes, I nod.

Ben: You and I are on the same page, then. That's exactly how I like my steak.

TKT: Fantastic, then.

I offer to help, but I'm waved away. So, I continue to watch some more garbage on VH1 with the rest of the dudes. I think it was a show about Britney Spears or something that no one has any business knowing.

Time passes and eventually ol' Ben calls for the other fellas that their steak is ready. You'd think he announced that gold doubloons were falling from the sky, they left so quick. Knowing my steak would take a moment or two longer, I continued watching the completely engrossing programming that only VH1 can offer.

After a time, my number is up.

"Thomas, your steak is ready."

At this point, I was so hungry, I'd considered eating one of the couch's pillows and washing it down with a nice remote control malt. I jogged down the hall to the kitchen and Ben was there at the counter, all proud-like.

Ben: There's your steak, Troupe.

TKT: Sweet.

Uh...not sweet.

There, sitting on a plate like something the grill crapped out, was a blackened steak. I'm not even kidding. It was like Satan himself breathed fire on the thing until it was charred beyond recognition, put it out and threw it in the furnace for eternity. The thing looked like a steak-shaped charcoal briquette.

TKT: Oh.

I looked over at Ben's steak, you know, the one that was exactly the same way that I liked my steak? Yeah. His was nice, juicy-looking, and succulent. I watched, almost in slow-motion, as his knife easily glided it's way through the meat to cut off a generous hunk of delicious cow. He popped the nugget into his eager mouth and chewed. As if taunting me, a little bit of steak juice squirted out between his teeth and landed on his poorly-ironed, blue uniform shirt.

My steak was nothing short of ruined.

Mike: Everyone happy?

The other guys held up their forks with their nicely prepared pieces o' meat on it and grunted their satisfaction. I said nothing while I cut through the blackened outer layer of my steak. Flecks of black, scalded meat fell onto my plate like negative dandruff. I took a bite.

It was like tasting a well-burnt yule log.

Like a trooper (hey, I'm aptly named) I finished the whole, rotten thing. I did my best not to wince or watch Ben eat his steak...you know, the one he prepared EXACTLY like mine? I swear he must've lost count as he pulled the steaks off the grill. I imagined my little ruined steak all alone in the grill, crusting over with char and getting all worried that he'd been forgotten.

Steak: I bet the guy that's going to eat me is sitting in there watching VH1. I just know it. Also, I'm hot.

Anyway, I learned a valuable lesson that night. Never, ever stray from your instincts when it comes to food during a stand-by. Always get the frozen pizza and cook it yourself.

Oh, and don't watch so much VH1...nothing good comes of it.

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