Return of the Ants

A few years ago, I was having a problem with ants coming up from nests in the ground and trying to get into individual apartments' windows and the roof of the building. After calling the management company for our home owners association and not getting much help out of them, I decided to see what I could accomplish on my own.
The ants' strategy was obvious--once they got into the roof, they could go into any apartment they wished with impunity. If that happened, the only way to eradicate them then would be to tent the building, which no one wants to do.
In backtracking the ants to see where they were coming from, I discovered that these ants didn't like the water--as every time it rained, they'd have to come up out of their nest to stay somewhere else until the water dissipated. This ultimately proved their eventual undoing, until their reemergence a few days ago.
Around the time that the roof was being repaired from the two hurricanes in 2005, I began to notice the ants more and more. Whenever I would see them, I would get my liquid insect killer and spray until they were all dead. Also, whenever I found a hole in the building that they were using, I would plug it up with clear caulk.
Finally I called the exterminating company that does our lawn once a month and explained the problem to them. The person I talked to there asked me what the ants looked like and I described them and he allowed that there were poisons they could set out for them and that they would try this.
Meanwhile I was still spraying and plugging whenever I saw them, until one day on the stairs landing half way up I noticed a few of them on the edge of the field rocks facade that adorns our building. This was just after a lot of rain. After I started spraying, I noticed one rock was pushed away from the concrete about an eighth of an inch. Just to be safe, I shot some spray in there and suddenly hundreds of ants began pouring out of their hiding place. After I finished, I hadn't seen hide nor hair of the ants since, until last week when I discovered they were back, swarming over an almost-empty small plastic bottle of light corn syrup.
I knew they'd be back, that it was just a matter of time. They've been here much longer than we have and they'll be here long after we're gone.
It has cooled off considerably by now--presently I have the windows open, although I may have to close them later and turn the central air back on. Today is the end of hurricane season, and we got lucky once again--every time I saw a system starting to form on the National Hurricane Center's satellite map, they would caution, "Upper level winds winds not conducive for further development," so it sounds like the wind shear saved us this year, which I gather is from the jet stream. If we could do the same thing every year, we'd have hurricane season beat.
Haven't been to the beach in a while. Did some cooking yesterday as I'm now out of chili and the tomatoes this time of year didn't look good at all, so I went with chicken stew. Last night was the first night in a while I haven't made the Parmesan steak fries that I didn't realize how addicted I had become to them. But now I have 38 quarts of my white stew which again is mostly potatoes and carrots, safely stowed in my two refrigerators, so that should last me a while.
Still waiting to hear back on the book. Still waiting for UPS to call on the temporary package handler position I applied and interviewed for--although I'm pretty sure they won't call until they get busy, and that's dependent on how much people around here Christmas-shop on the internet. Still editing the first and second books in the meantime. The saga continues.

The Beach

Dateline: Beautiful Palm Beach Gardens in sunny South Florida. Subject: The beach. Reality: It's crummy today outside. All overcast and no sun--maybe even some rain later. Not a good day for the beach. Normally this would mean for me walking at the nearby mall, as in The Gardens Mall, but I'm still holding out hope for tomorrow at the beach. And this is Labor Day weekend--all three days--traditionally the last big blowout of the summer. Now that summer's soon to be officially over, maybe I can get an e-mail back from a literary agent that I've queried about my book. But only if they're interested. In the old days, you'd spend however much on postage and get at least a rejection slip back for your trouble. Now you don't even get that.
Allow me to clarify--during the summer and the holidays, the publishing world grinds to a halt--or so I've been told. School's out and people scatter hither and yon, to the four winds as it were, until the fall. This is how it's been explained to me. That is why I have been using this time to edit the book and the sequel. I am still doing that, however now things have gotten to the point where I am not finding any mistakes, simply better word choices. Polishing, which is just as important as the creating, only not nearly as much fun or rewarding.
But back to the beach. Where I go is called Singer Island, which is not really an island but a peninsula, but it looks like an island when you drive to it and that sounds better, so anyway. It was named for the same family that founded the Singer Sewing Machine Company but what actual connection they have to this place eludes me.
I have been going for sixteen years now. When I first started, after finishing my first book in 1993, I could walk on the beach for one hour and twenty minutes. Now I walk from Ocean Reef Park up past the Juno Pier, back to my car for a light fruit lunch, and down to the inlet and back again to the park. This takes me anywhere from seven to over eight hours, depending on how many breaks I take and whether or not I run and for how long.
As I mentioned previously, I also now have a camera and take along my tripod. The tripod is only three pounds but for that long, it starts getting heavy after a while. However, certain shots are just about impossible without it, so it has become a necessary evil.
I go to the beach to get some sun, to chill out and have some quiet time. I also do it for the exercise and to give me some time away from the computer to go over the book, certain scenes that I like and some that I don't. Sometimes I get ideas there, and sometimes I don't, as occasionally I do socialize, as I did with Klara. Sometimes I talk to the girls from the turtle place who scoot up and down the beach on their ATVs, some of whom are more interesting than others, but that is another story. Sometimes I take pictures when something strikes my fancy, as with the baby sea turtles. But mostly what I go to do is observe other people having fun.
Contrary to what anyone may have seen on television or at the movies, fiction is all characterization. Any fool can do plot, and many fools have. If I sound harsh, then I suppose I am. Everyone works in his or her own way and this is how I work.
Also my first agent kept telling me that if the book does get picked up, the way things are nowadays, the publisher wasn't going to do anything and I was going to have to do everything to promote the book, including personal appearances. So I started thinking on my own, well, if I'm going to be seeing people in public and talking about the book, maybe it would be a good idea to get into shape while I can. That was ten years ago. Now the means have become an end in themselves, as along the way I've gotten addicted to exercise and how good it feels. Also I've learned how to cook so that I what I eat is healthy.
I walk on the beach three times a week, weather permitting--Saturday, Sunday and Wednesday. I like this schedule. I hope I can keep it.