So you will have noticed a silence from me for a few days. That's because I was off camping with the family. We went to Lake Whitney State Park, met up with some friends and the cousins. Six adults, nine kids, three boats, and a large lake full of fish.
Here's a picture I took last night:
The first night we about got blown away by the wind and soaked by the rain, but we survived. A roaring campfire kept us warm the second night.
As you can imagine, a huge amount of fun.
But I didn't post about it in advance because, well, I didn't want someone burgling my house. Is that silly? Paranoid? I mean, in this day and age it can't be that hard to find out where I live. Sure, I have a ferocious dog guarding the place, but even so.
I wonder whether it's my job that makes me extra cautious that way. Not a bad thing, I suppose.
And talking of the job influencing my thoughts, we were sitting lakeside just this morning when a yellow fixed-wing plane flew low over the water towards us, heading for the state park's small airstrip. The kids stopped skipping stones and craned their necks to stare. It was a cool sight, the blue sky, pretty water, and the small aircraft wobbling in the air towards a landing.
As the kids ooh-ed and aah-ed, I muttered to myself:
"Drug runner, I expect."
At least I was able to laugh at myself. It gave me an idea, too, for the beginning of my new book.