Two weeks in Spain. Mostly fabulous in spite of getting lost at least once a day, a trip to the hospital in a Basque village, the lack of restroom toilet paper, hand soap and in one horrid instance even a toilet seat. My advice? Take the third exit off the roundabout, learn to drive really fast and do not pour your txakoli from three feet in the air into a water glass.
Over coffee and the newspaper this morning I found an old colleague. It nearly made me spit said coffee across the room. Long story short: a rep from a now defunct local printer went off the deep end, robbed a bank and got committed to the state mental hospital. Yesterday, he escaped. There’s more to it than that, of course. How do you go from an athlete with a full-ride scholarship to Stanford to a homeless, pain-killer addicted bank robber? Requires further thought.
Happy 4th of July, all.
My debut novel, Retired to Death, is working its way through the Smashwords process. Tomorrow should be the magic day to upload to Amazon. I love that 800-pound gorilla bookseller. It will be a few weeks before other formats like Apple, Barnes and Noble, etc. are available due to a delay in the ISBN number process.