It’s hard to believe that one week ago exactly I was biking through Central Park, stopping to pop into the Met, and not sweating even a single bit. That was a lifetime ago. It was a beautiful 4 days. I still have more to say about it. I know I say this a lot. But now I have a planner. One that I actually enjoy writing in. I am so on top of life right now. And it’s been two days! ha. So, I guess there’s still a little time before I prove the concept. I have written the word “Blog” on 3 days for next week. Don’t hold your breath, but do write down in your own planner, “Check Missy’s Blog.”
Today I biked in a very different world from Central Park and enjoyed it about 66% as much. It wasn’t QUITE as pretty as a blooming 65 degree canopied sidewalk and it wasn’t QUITE as cool. But it was nice. And it afforded me the time to write the book that has been in my head for about 60 days now. Will I write it? I don’t know. But I see the beginning, middle, and end and I have never been able to do that before. Where is Keri when I need her. Oh, yes. Mississippi. And there are phones, so I guess it will be okay.
Here is the first couple of paragraphs. I don’t plan on sharing it piece by piece. But I feel like sharing this.
Target Audience: probably 12 year olds. So if you hate it…and you aren’t 12….don’t tell me.
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I live 25 feet from a Rottweiler that bleeds constantly from the mouth. Well, it may not actually be blood. But when he shows up in my dreams at 2 a.m., there is always blood. I am never quite sure if it is his or mine, but it’s enough to make me want to never leave my driveway.
I almost didn’t.
Days rolled into weeks before I got up the courage to pedal past the Death Hound. Little did I know he was only the first of my obstacles. I would see 16 more just like him before I even broke a sweat.
It became a part of my daily routine; part of what I did and who I was.
It was summer. And pedaling and sweating was my new normal.
This is my story.
I am the Watcher.
Snappshots.com 
sounds like the “sin eater” in a book i am reading!
oh dear. I wish I was as courageous as a 12 year old when it comes to dogs. If I read your book will I have to pack a gun to brave my way to the mailbox?
Okay, a creepy beginning. Lots of anxiety and foreshadowing of doom, but because I’m used to you being *funny* and I have a hunch you saw a lot of dog-walkers in NYC, my gut tells me this is a great story about a kid’s summer job watching other people’s pets while they are on vacation. Does he wish he had a dog, but his parents won’t let him? Is he saving his money for something, and he doesn’t really like dogs, but it’s the only job he can get as a 12-year-old? Get busy, Missy, and write more! 😉