This is not the cabin where I will be murdered by sex cannibals.This is just a picture of a cabin by a lake that I found on Wikimedia Commons. However, it does look an awful lot LIKE the actual cabin where I will be murdered by sex cannibals. More on that in a minute.
First, I want to say that you guys are the best. THE BEST. That’s just a true fact of science.
Let me clarify, on the skunk thing. I am not SAD. I am not drooping. I am ridiculously blessed. My ears are still up and I am very…interested. Interested in the narrative.
But yeah, as lot of you pointed out, my kids are becoming fully realized adult humans, and they own a lot of the stories that are happening in my family now.
Also, I think my voice has changed because—well, I am in the second half. Things change in the second half. One key change is, people start dying. Not “shockingly dying way too young,” not dying in tragic accidents as anomalies and aberrations, but just dying in their due course. Dying as a regular part of The Big What Happens.
In the first half, it was all rushing about meadows, making babies, building careers, accumulating goods. It was a good part. This half is all about launching things, releasing things. This is a different part, but all the parts are good.
The main thing making me sad today is that I am going to die in a lakeside cabin, probably by Tuesday, which will make this a VERY short second half.
Lydia Netzer and I are going on writing retreat, and I chose a VERY VERY small, very very WELL RESEARCHED Alabama town.
I wanted to go to a place that had a population of less than 3,000, but more than a dozen churches. A real, small Alabama town, not near city center, not secretly a suburb. The small town south has changed from when I was growing up in the 80’s and 90’s. Back then, the “real” Possett felt like it was still in 1965. I just need to get the smell of it back in my nose for this book I am writing. I wonder mainly about what the internet has done. What parts will now be like 2014, homogenized, regular American, and what parts are Old South? There are some wonderful parts to the old south, and some absolutely horrifying parts. What’s still alive? I am going to find out.
I did a BUTT TON of research. I started with about twenty towns and narrowed down and narrowed down, and finally CHOSE one, picked a nearby rental and PAID for it. Non-refundable.
Then yesterday I stumbled across a MIND BOGGLING statistic, buried on an obscure website. This particular town? THE ONE I CHOSE? Has one of the highest PERCENTAGES of REGISTERED SEX OFFENDERS IN THE WORLD. The ratio is crazy. Practically every other person we see is BOUND to be a sex offender. And as Lydia pointed out—THOSE ARE JUST THE REGISTERED ONES. So.
My CHEERFUL theory is that there is a peaceful gentle hippie-dippie nudist colony nearby and a nudist-hating judge is in a war with them—kind of like FOOTLOOSE with wieners instead of dancing. My LESS CHEERFUL theory is that Lydia and I are going to a place populated wholly by murderous sex cannibals who specialize in The Dismemberment and Cooking of Ladies of a Certain Age.
I’ll let you know how it turns out, assuming I am not baked into some kind of Saucy 50 Shades of Casserole.