Leslie Langtry - Army of One

GOOD MORNING, MR. PHELPS...Your assignment, should you choose to accept it, is;
I’m going to be adding a fun new page to my website, Langtry’s Larcenist Lines. I thought it would be lots of fun to let you, my adoring fans, suggest a scene from Scuse Me While I Kill This Guy from a secondary character’s point of view. Was there something you thought I should have added, a scene you felt I didn’t elaborate on enough, something you’re dying to know? Suggest it! To make it even more fun I’m going to let you decide which secondary characters tells the scene. Who’s voice would you like to hear? Romi’s, Carolina’s, Uncle Lou or Grandma Mary? You decide!

Here’s how this will work:
Email your suggestion to: AuthorLeslieLangtry@gmail.com. Include the scene you would like and the secondary character you would like to tell the scene. Both the scene and the character must be from my first book, ‘Scuse Me While I Kill This Guy. You have two weeks to send in your suggestion. On June 18 we’ll provide a list of the suggestions and let everyone vote for their favorite. Voting will last two weeks, until June 30.

WE NOW RETURN YOU TO YOUR REGULARLY SCHEDULED BLOG...

For some people, turning 40 means stepping back, reflecting on your life, relaxing, taking time to stop and smell the roses.

Apparently, I didn't get the memo. You can't see it because mud dries lighter than it is when originally rolled in and the bruises haven't begun to turn the colors of a tequila sunrise, but I had a rough day yesterday. Hell, I've had a rough month. Now, when I say rough, I don't mean it in a bad way. I mean rough as in rugged.

In the last two weeks alone, I've learned how to swamp a canoe and rescue those who've been swamped; camped for a weekend, thrown 20 girls down a zipline in the forrest; fired a black powder musket and yesterday I ran an obstacle course that would've made a Marine proud.

When Leslie turns 40, she apparently means cram all the activity she hasn't done in 40 years into one month. Some people buy a Mustang convertible for their mid-life crisis. Apparently, I try to kill myself.

Still, if offers me some perspective. Yesterday was Ropes Course training day at Girl Scout camp and I managed to clear an 8ft. high wall, make it through a tire suspended 3 feet over the ground without touching said tire, swung on a rope across an imaginary canyon, tightrope-walk a thin metal cable in hiking boots - all done in the rain and mud.

And I couldn't be prouder.

This may be because my alfredo-clogged arteries didn't rise up and smite me with a heart attack, or because when I was 20 I didn't even do these things.

Someone told me last weekend that in a family, if the mother is into outdoors activities, the girls are 80% likely to love the outdoors as well. But if only the father is an outdoorsman, girls in the family are only 20% likely to be active outdoors. In my family, both parents thought "roughing it" was staying at a hotel with an outdoor pool. So, I didn't do stuff like that.

Obviously, this is my mid-life rebellion. And I couldn't be happier. I look at it as a sort of sadistic spa treatment. After all, the work-out is like a hardcore Swedish massage and all that mud is probably good for my skin. Right?

In retrospect, I probably should've paced myself. Doing all of the above in less than a month is pretty exhausting. On the other hand, by some miracle worthy of any religion, I survived. Surely that's worth something. Isn't it?

"The Assassin"