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Vol. 43 No. Insanity

Another year has passed – it’s OBX time yet again after more years than I can count. When asked where OBX is and what the letters stand for, this is it: Outer Banks. Some dude a long time ago added the X because it sounded cool. It’s used everywhere today.

The OBX is primarily tons of rental properties on a barrier island, a long skinny of piece of land. Remember Kitty Hawk where the Wright Bros managed to lift off a sort of plane off the sand for the first time for a full 12 seconds in 1903? Not to mention Ocracoke where they moved the second oldest lighthouse in the U.S. inland in 1999 so it wouldn’t be dashed apart by the ocean. Guess what? Blackbeard is supposedly buried there, headless after a battle.

At one point (above the town of Duck, no, I kid you not, great little spot), you have the ocean on one side and Albemarle Bay on the other, the road maybe twelve feet wide, if that. I’ll get out next week and get an exact measurement this year.

43 relativos here this year in three houses, the big house (where everyone gathers in the evening for dinner, well, and throughout the day as well) is right on the beach, the other houses within easy walking distance, each with a swimming pool of their own if they don’t want to sprawl out and burn to a crisp on the gorgeous white sand beach. The water, as you would expect, is on the nippy side, ah, when you grit your teeth and simply dive into an oncoming wave, you freeze, then it’s fabulous. There are dolphins, but I’ve never had one come close enough to share jokes with.

As usual, there are 13 birthdays celebrated, each adult/teenager/little kid chooses the cake of their choice (let’s hear it for double, triple, quadruple, death-by chocolate), happy birthday is sung and there are, naturally, presents after dinner, but it’s become a contest to see who can get the recipient the funniest, cruelest, craziest card.

Let’s talk about food. There’s an endless buffet, each family group responsible for one dinner. Anyone who doesn’t gain weight this upcoming week simply isn’t normal. And I ask myself, why can’t food that’s totally delicious be good for you as well? Is this punishment for the apple in the Garden of Eden? It’s harsh.

Two new toddlers to add to the list – there’ll be a baby race again this year. All are hopeful the toddlers will get the point and head out toward his and her mother, yelling encouragement to them. Last year, they were babies and just sat there, looking around, bewildered, then one turned around and crawled into the kitchen – probably on the hunt for something fried.

Mini advert: Below is a link for a sweepstakes, ten copies of FLASHPOINT (signed by moi of course) – so do enter RIGHT NOW. Also, I hope you’ve pre-ordered FLASHPOINT and encouraged your neighbor, your co-worker, your pet sitter, your lover, your yoga teacher to pre-order as well. This will certainly gain you points, but not, I fear, for the hereafter, no pull there, alas.

Everyone, it’s June, it’s gorgeous out, it’s time to sing and dance and kick up your heels. Don’t forget to run into the woods skyclad, of course, maybe with flip flops, and celebrate the Summer Solstice with a fine song sung in Celtic.

Announcement: FLASHPOINT – July 2nd – This is the last thriller in my FBI series. Don’t want to miss this one, it’s going out with a bang, literally and figuratively.


Happy June,