Jamie Wakefield

Holy crap, connection overload! I’m going to have to learn how to be more snarky, condescending and just plain mean. I just have too many friends! I do my best to keep up with emails, especially important ones that need a response right away, but every now and then I let things slide. I had a couple I needed to answer this morning and decided I would catch up on a bunch from the past I should have answered. It’s ninety minutes later and I have just hit “select all” then “delete.” I just can’t do it! I have too many friends and Facebook has made it even worse. Which is why Twitter continues to baffle me - who has the time? I don’t have the ability to keep up with meaningful emails much less type or read a random thought every twenty minutes. With an internet connection there are already constant distractions or websites I meant to check on in the middle of writing - like right now, I just remembered I wanted to look up where the phrase “hell bent for leather” came from. There was a guy

I will be playing Secret Force this Saturday in Madrid. I am very excited.

We watched “How to Train Your Dragon” last night. It has a rating of 98% on Rotten Tomatoes, one of the highest I have ever seen. The animation is spectacular, the storyline interesting and as the end approaches you have that feeling of “What the hell are they going to do now?” This is a good thing. The last fifteen minutes of the movie needs work. The “What the hell they did do now” didn’t make sense on any number of levels. I won’t spoil the movie for you since it just came out on video but I give it a 7.5 out of 10. It’s very kid friendly; it’s worth the rental, but certainly not worth 98% on RT. America’s Next Top Model (ANTM) has become a show we enjoy almost as much as Top Chef. Like any good competition reality show, the main cast is excellent; the host is stunning, funny, kind and wise. You grow to love and hate certain competitors as the weeks progress. It has inspired spin-offs as well as being broadcast in a hundred and fifty countries. There is a Canada’s Next Top Model, an

The Dog of Thunder continues to act like he’s lived here all his life. Our apartment is now covered in fur. Wendy got a contract. I continue to edit my next book. This week we plan on going to Magic stores and finding out what tournaments they have so I can play some physical Magic. The scale has finally relinquished its iron grip on my post-American weight and is slowly sinking back to normal levels. A few days ago we walked up to this café next to the Temple de Debod (thank you whoever anonymously corrected me on the name, I am assuming Kinga?) with the Dog of Thunder in tow. (So many names for this dog: Beast, Hound, Stinker, Stinker Pinker, Dog of Thunder, Little Doggie Wetfoot, Perrito Salchicha, etc.) Making the adjustment back to Spanish food is always a revelation. So clean, so simple, so fresh. We had raw salmon on a thin, three inch piece of toast with a drizzling teaspoon of sauce on top. Our second dish was another piece of toast with pieces of tuna, roasted red pepper and