A Terrorist's Worst Enemy

A friend e-mailed me a very interesting article about a former Israeli secret agent named Juval Aviv. Normally I would not waste your time (or mine for that matter) on Internet gossip, but after Mr. Aviv predicted several terrorist attacks correctly, I believe his credibility is grounds for reading the article. He is now working as a security consultant for the U.S. Congress.

After reading the piece, I came away with the conviction that we are crazy if we think our government can protect us against terrorists. Take charge of you and your loved ones' security. Don't wait for the government to play the reactionary game. Be proactive with the safety of your children, grandchildren and loved ones. Aware Americans are the terrorists' worst enemy, not ineffective government security!

Click on the link below and make your own conclusions….

I’m just saying,

Mittster

Advice from an Israeli Agent

Front-Page Story

Our Camp Verde newspaper, The Bugle, did a front-page article last Wednesday titled The Storytellers, and low and behold there was a picture of my book and me on the front and second page along with two other self-published authors. I think the three of us now rank as local celebs.

It seems every month that passes my hard work to promote Evil in the Mirror and Day Stalker, plus continuing to write The Phoenix Code (which will complete the trilogy), gets me a little closer to being a best-selling author. Of course that is my goal and dream, but making some money at it would be nice too.

Anyone who reads my blogs knows how I preach to newbie writers about never giving up on their passion to create the perfect novel and become known to the world. Sometimes I have to look in the mirror and pinch myself so that I can believe just how far I have come in less than two years. Have I ever been discouraged? Sure, but I never lost faith in my abilities and the quality of my work. I write a mean murder mystery; and if you don't toot your own horn, who will?

I can tell you this much; living in a small community really helps. When I write early in the morning, Camp Verde is quiet as a mouse. It doesn't get any better than that when a writer needs to concentrate. I wish every community in Arizona were like this town. "The Mittster, his wife, four dogs and a parrot live in the perfect place."

I'm just saying....

Growing Old is Mandatory

"Life should NOT be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in an attractive body with skin like a baby’s butt, but rather to skid in sideways, smiling and laughing the whole way, body thoroughly used up, totally worn out and screaming, "WOO HOO, what a ride!"

My road to becoming an author spans decades, with most of those years in the construction industry. Two years ago, I decided to take my writing abilities seriously and create a novel. At first, I thought about writing science fiction, but intuition dictated murder mysteries. Thus, Evil in the Mirror and Day Stalker were born.

How about identical twins killing off hippies in Tucson, Arizona? After all, I am an identical twin and we were born in Tucson. Since I had firsthand knowledge of twins, location and murder had been presented in the news media since before I was born, research would be a snap. I found writing both books invigorating, exciting and intoxicating. While my passion for construction had waned, my new passion for writing far surpassed anything I had experienced in the past.

While my body may have been beat up from construction and living the dirt bag carpenter life with large quantities of booze and nightlife, my mind stayed sharp and inquisitive. Thank God I never got involved with hard drugs or I wouldn’t have a mind to whip into shape for authoring.

You see, when I skid into the grave, I want to have used up my mind along with my body. What good is an unused brain? I plan to keep writing until that last moment of life. In fact, someone is going to have to pry my fingers off my laptop!

Write on,

Mittster

The Third Day

Just thought I would let you know that I made it through the second day of my part-time construction job, and I am now back writing my third murder mystery, The Phoenix Code.

It seems I will be taking a little more time writing the book for obvious reasons. Not to worry though, this too shall pass and I will be good as new until the next round of being a plumber's helper.

What the hell was I thinking?

Write on,

Mittster

Day Two

You would think after yesterday I would sink into retirement oblivion never to be seen by the eyes of younger construction workers ever again. Holy crap, the first two hours of pulling toilets and sinks out of a timeshare renovation were excruciating. Every muscle in my body hurt and all the bruises from lying under bathroom cabinets unhooking plumbing lines looked like I was hit by a train. You don’t even want to know about carrying toilets down two flights of stairs with the seats banging against my forearms that now look like freshly ground hamburger.

The amazing part was that, after the first two hours, I started feeling better and decided not to jump off the balcony in frustration. By lunch time, I was chatting with my co-workers and eating baloney sandwiches with relish. Age came up in the conversation, and one worker proudly announced he was sixty-four and undoubtedly the oldest guy on the crew. “No so fast,” I exclaimed. “You are now the second oldest guy on the crew!” I fear my announcement deflated him greatly. Is it my fault I don’t look sixty-eight?

We finished the job early and headed to the shop. I was proud to have made it my first day without having a heart attack or getting hurt. After unloading tools at the shop, I was anxious to get home and take a hot shower. My wife nursed me and told me how proud she was of her hard-working man. Her real concern was why I had not called her during the day. She said she wasn’t worried, but I could tell she was. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that if I had called, I would have begged her to let me come home because I couldn’t handle physical work anymore. Had that happened, neither one of us would have been proud….

I’m just saying,

Mittster

Off To Work I Go

Well, today is the day I go back to work in construction. I was laid off February of 2009 and it has taken me this long to find a job again. Although be it part-time, I am thankful for the opportunity to prove that older than dirt folks can still work.

OK, even though I am not back in supervision, being a plumber's helper isn't that bad. Besides, I learned long ago that the trick to being a plumber was to know that liquid goes downhill and don't lick your fingers! Who knows, maybe this will turn out to be full time and I can be a real plumber.

If the last two years have taught me anything, it's that unemployment does suck, but buys food for the table, and being a successful author is a very tough nut to crack. I'm not giving up, but while I am writing my third murder mystery, part-time work will help pay the bills.

I am one of the lucky ones. Construction is still DOA and many, many people are out of work. I hope the economy recovers soon and everyone who wants to work will have jobs. It’s the American way!

I’m just saying,

Mittster

Snow on Them Thar Hills

Our last day in Quartzsite, Arizona, dawned with bright, warm sunshine. The doves and quail waited impatiently for their morning seed as I hurried to the shed for their food. Today (Friday) would be hot enough for short sleeve shirts, and I was looking forward to spending some time with friends before heading home Saturday morning.

Sandy and I spent some of the day shopping for upcoming birthdays and then we ate leftover pizza from Silly Al's and scrumptious cream cheese and olive dip I had made the day before. I also managed to dig a fire pit and build some simple benches out of scrap logs. After the benches were complete, we sat and talked with our friends Lynne and Maurie in the glorious warm sun. The plan was to build a fire our last night in Quartzsite, but, as usual, I fell asleep before dark while watching Seinfeld. No problem, Lynne and Maurie will enjoy a fire during their stay.

Saturday's sunrise again was warm and inviting. Wouldn't you just know the weather would be perfect when it's time to head home! Oh, well, we had a great time and even though we hated to leave, we said goodbye to our friends and headed north for Camp Verde.

The trip was uneventful until we reached Copper Canyon on Interstate 17. "What the hell is that white stuff on the side of the mountain?" I asked my wife. "It's snow, you idiot," she responded. As we reached the summit and headed down into the Verde Valley, snow could be seen on all the surrounding mountains and especially on the San Francisco Peaks. Even though the sun was bright, the air was cold, and it was obvious that while we were away the weather must have been very nasty indeed.

While wearing coats and gloves to unload the truck, Sandy and I were shivering while day-dreaming of the warm lower desert. After all the work of unloading was finished, we settled in our king size bed with our dogs and watched football. I looked at my wonderful wife thinking, It doesn't get any better than this. I was reminded once again that there is no place like home.

I'm just saying,

Mittster