Meanwhile, Here at the House …

Gotta an indie bookstore!


Clinton, S.C., Thursday, May 29, 2014, 4:06 p.m.

The grass is cut at my mother’s house. It’s raining now, but I never felt more than a drizzle when I was turning laps on the mower. The Rangers and Twins are tied, 4-4. This morning I wrote the fifth installment of my latest short story, “High, Wild and Handsome” (, and I expect to finish it in the morning. I’m rushing to get the short story completed because I want to enter it in a contest whose deadline is Saturday. I have been neglecting the current major project, a crime novel that may be named Deadly Arrogance if I don’t come up with something I find more aesthetically pleasing.

Hey, it's good to be back home again.

Hey, it’s good to be back home again.

As my friend Jim McLaurin used to say, and undoubtedly still does, “Other than that, ain’t much happening.”

For a while there, I was moping around, suffering from the end of my grand and glorious road trip. To paraphrase Tom T. Hall, whom I usually quote, they missed me on the old side of town.

I cut the grass at my house yesterday. I went to Aldi and the CVS, had supper at Dempsey’s Pizza, and the nice lady in the Deli at Bi-Lo sliced me a pound of Cajun turkey that I smell immediately every time I open the refrigerator door.

Today’s pleasant surprise occurred when my mother visited while I was cutting her yard. She found a small piece of my primary lawn tractor – I rolled the backup out of the garage for the current lawn sequence – that fell off last summer. The chief mechanic – mainly he works at Epting Turf & Tractor – is going to be so happy. He told me last year he’d put it back on if I could find it.

This is the equivalent of coming across a missing sock that you didn’t see tumble back behind the dryer. It’s a beer in the back of the fridge. It’s a twenty in the inside pocket of the blazer, there since the last time you went to the funeral home. It never happens on bad days, and it’s a harbinger that good times are a-coming, coming.

When the summer arrives, and you begin to entertain thoughts of football, you’re going to want to read my novel, The Intangibles, which is set in the sixties and is also about the South, civil rights and desegregation. Read more about it elsewhere on this site.

About Monte

For 20 seasons, I mostly wrote about NASCAR. I'm still paying attention, but I'm spending more of my time these days writing novels and songs. I try to blog regularly on whatever happens to strike my fancy.
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