I just finished reading The Body Under The Ice. I planned on working the last one-hundred pages of the edits over both days this weekend, but I couldn't put it down. The last fifty suck you in. It is like reading an episode of Murder She Wrote. I hope to be half as prolific as Dave one day.

Friday night Sam and I went to dinner. We eat pizza and Green Lantern. One of our usual haunts. I've been eating out too much. It is beginning to show round my waistline. Sam told me how Alexis is obsessing over getting a life insurance policy. She wants to leave something for her nineteen-year-old son. She has a set sum in mind, two-hundred thousand dollars, but only wants to pay a little for it. 

The stumbling block Alexis has run into is her medical history. She goes to a shading doctor, who prescribes whatever she wants-- Aderall, muscle relaxes, etc. I don't know why she thinks she will die prematurely. If she does, it will be from abusing these drugs and alcohol. Nor do I understand why she feels the need to provide her son with that kind of money. At nineteen, he is failing high school, doesn't drive or work, and has little ambition to do anything be play video games-- and yes, he is already obese. 

I have my opinions concerning what her son actually needs. Sam would agree, but Alexis wouldn't want to hear them, so we keep them to ourselves. Although I will say, he doesn't have a healthy home environment that values hard work. He is just another example of this lost boy generation. Good times make for weak men. The Pendulum has swung too far in the opposite direction. I hope to see it correct to a neutral position before I die.