Ever just want to punch the Good Humor man in the face as he trolls the neighborhood hawking his frozen sugar coated wares to children? Come on, admit it. You’ve considered what it would be like to sock that middle aged man right in the nose and then ask him for an ice cream sandwich and an orange flavored push up.

Every year I like the ice cream man a little less. A few more years of this and my loathing earns its merit badge and graduates to outright hatred.

The ice cream man drives too slow for starters. Way too slow. Secondly he does this while littering that awful Kabuki meets classical music all over the street. Lastly, he’s selling young children a very dangerous drug; refined sugar. Why he’s nothing more than a drug pusher who slithers into the neighborhood, gets his money and then slithers away.

It’s time to send the ice cream pusher packing. When he comes down your street, lock your children inside. Do not heed his call for the promise of frozen treats. Take back your neighborhood! Tell him to go peddle his poison somewhere else. Do it for yourself and for your children, but please do it now!

Some weekends are so nice Monday looks it might be a friend, not an expletive. Then it arrives and the mighty hammer of karma drops down all over again. Monday is just one rough hombre no matter how it’s served. Dress it up with garnish or garlic, butter or spice, it will still taste like sour milk.

True some Mondays are better than others. They’re like kittens instead of hungry lions. Like beef jerky instead of gazpacho with anchovies. Some Mondays I don’t even want a complete change of blood so as to vent the toxins.

But at this moment after two days of perfect weather the possibility of Monday is anathema. It’s a joke right? Monday is not going to happen next week at all. Yes, that’s it. The week shall start with Tuesday.

Think of the economy of it. If we extricate Monday, the weekend shall arrive one day earlier! And that’s great for productivity Mr. or Mrs. Boss man. Trust me.

I’m ready for a my weekly nap, which I missed yesterday since we went on a hike of doom. The purpose of the hike of doom is to get fresh air and exercise, and make it back to the car before the sun sets. Doom enters the picture when reality confronts the body with the following edict : this 4.5 hour hike must be done in 3.5 hours, because that’s all the light that’s available.

Now the wife is off at an orchard picking some kind of weird and possibly satanic fruit with a friend from high school. Meanwhile in a move to combat today’s less temperate weather, Oedipus has burrowed underneath the comforter. I’m not sure where the wife’s cat is, but it’s probably wedged itself in a shoe rack in the closet.

So that’s a clear sign I need a nap.

In more exciting news work continues on Velocity. I beat the first 50 pages ( out of 220 ) into submission. It was a rough task, but I wanted to make sure the first 50 pages rock. We’re getting there…

If it gets any nicer outside the only sane course of action shall be to take the day off. At 73 degrees, with clear visibility and a slight breeze, the weather verges on the cusp of perfection.

But checking predictions for Monday reveals that the weather can get better! A whole lot better in fact. Forecasts for Monday call for temperatures in 80’s. Monday might be the day where I forget how much I look forward to spring, because it will stop being something that is on the way next week or next month. Spring will just be. Boy, reading that last sentence makes me think Buddhapuss is rubbing off on me.

Taking a day off might be fun, but there’s a self imposed deadline looming. The race to finish a rough draft of Velocity by mid May is on and every writing day counts.

As for the Ridge Runner, there’s an agent looking at it. We shall see.