Yes, it's Friday. F-R-I to the D-A-Y.

    Today I took the day off from the paper and focused on my poor, abused novel. But before that, I decided it was time to get my hefty arse back into the gym. I went 45 minutes on the eliptical trainer, getting my heart rate up to 85 percent of its max for my age. I wish Lina were here, because I'd ask her if it's a good thing or a bad thing that I can do that for an extended time without feeling out of breath.

    I used to be a long-distance runner. I was serious about my mileage and my time, clocking off 10 to 13 miles a day. Then I had kids and fell off a mountain and became a profession sitter. As in Sit In Chairs All Day — one of my Indian names. But still when I work out for long periods like that, I often reach a point where I'm just not feeling tired, not feeling out of breath. Yes, I'm sweating and holding a conversation without panting a bit isn't possible. But I don't feel out of breath or tired. I feel like I could just keep going and going like the Energizer Bunny. It felt strange to see my heartrate up at 168 and to feel... fine. I didn't do any boxing, though. Next time I put the gloves on, it's going to probably kill me.

    Then I went grocery shopping and stocked up on organic everything. Yum.

    Then I came home to confront Marc and Sophie...

    I've been twiddling with the primary sex scene for maybe three weeks now, and I think I'm finally done with that. Now I need to put the afterburners on and jet through the remaining 10 or so chapters of this novel. I'm going part time for the rest of the month at the paper and taking the last week of March off, so that will help.

    I wanted to respond to everyone's posts from yesterday out here.

    Leiha, I couldn't agree more. The fact that the boyfriend was living with them proved the mom probably needed to be more strict than she was. We don't know the details, of course, but I had the exact same thought. To think this woman gave birth to one of her alleged killers and fed and sheltered the other... Raw deal, that.

    Can you imagine giving birth to a child not knowing that the kid would grow up to take your life?

    Rosie, I've done a lot of whistleblower investigations. Well, I guess, really only four or five. But that's a fair number. One lasted for a year. People I interviewed had their homes broken into, got threatening phone calls and faced intimidation. I got open death threats. Then they threatened my kids. I ran part of the story and dropped the rest because I couldn't face the threat to my kids (which they proved they could undertake... won't say more).

    Another lasted five months. That led to the National Journalism Awards and was probably the most brutal public battle I've ever fought. The team that handled that investigation is what I call the Dream Team and included my friend Terje, whom I insulted in a previous post, for his lack of enthusiasm for my non-birthday.

    Another involved a cement plant. That lasted probably three months and involved some minor threats and a bit of sneaking around, er. This is public, right? Ahem. But we're still reporting on the plant, which just got slammed with its highest-ever fine for more than 72,000 air pollution violations. EGADS!

    The investigative part of my job is why my agent thought I should try writing romantic suspense. I truly thought journalism was the most boring thing anyone could ever read about, and I still think it's pretty damn dull until someone pulls a gun or you land a big story. But then most people don't have any familiarity with journalism as a profession. Who knows?

    Joanie, kindergarten would scare me. That's a lot of small kiddos in one space. The noise alone would probably put me into the psych ward. I think people who can teach and work with small children deserve medals.

    Debbie, you make me laugh. "Super P.C."? Not at all. I really hope you're right about getting the job done — it's going to be hard to find the cracks in to this one, though the whistleblower is doing all they can to help make that happen.

    Charina, so wonderful to see you here!!!

    OK, dinner's done. Time to feed my kid. He's a bit droopy today. SAT test tomorrow morning early, and he's not happy about it.

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