Everything in my yard is blooming. The former owners (or possibly the former former owners) planted hydrangeas on the north side of the house and lilies on the east side, irises on the south, and gardenias along the fence. The gardenias are just coming into full bloom and the scent is heavenly. I snipped a couple of blooms the other day and brought them into my kitchen, just for the scent.

Actually, except for a couple of weeks out of the year, I despise all of the lilies planted around the house, because they don't bloom for very long, and the rest of the time it's just this ugly green stuff that is damn near impossible to get rid of. (Try digging up bulbs that have been there for several years!) However I do like the hydrangeas and the gardenias--and it's a good thing a former owner planted them because I have zero artistic ability when it comes to what kinds of plants to put where to make a yard pretty. I can mow grass. That's about the extent of my landscaping ability.

About five and a half weeks until the contest. But really only about three and a half weeks to prepare since I leave for England on June 11. (By the way, Kat, you need to email me! I lost your email when my computer crashed!!)

I think I'm at the point now physique-wise where I won't be embarrassed to get on that stage in a bikini. All of the cardio and dieting has been paying off--in fact, at my last assessment, I was told that in the previous two weeks I'd managed to lose 4.5 pounds of fat and gain 3 pounds of muscle. I'll be getting some pictures taken around the beginning of June, so yes, I will post "the final product."

On the other hand, I'm beginning to panic slightly over my routine. I thought that I was going to have a choreographer to help me put it together, but then he called and apologetically backed out on me, stating that he had too many prior committments. Luckily one of the other women in my gym who is entering the bodybuilding portion of the contest is also a dancer, and has offered to get with me this weekend and help me put some moves together. I have some basic ideas, but I'm simply no choreographer. (Goes back to that basic lack of artistic ability!)

Unfortunately Kelly (bodybuilder and sometime training partner and motivator) is having to drop out of competitions this summer due to other family commitments. I know it was a hard decision for her, because she's worked awfully hard this past year, and was looking terrific, but contest preparation is terribly time-consuming (assume a minimum of three hours a day training in the last 6-8 weeks before a contest) and difficult to do when the rest of the family isn't willing to take up some of the slack. I'm pretty lucky in that regard, I guess. I have no kids, no husband, no one to demand my time. So, other than my work schedule, I can do pretty much what I want when I want.

Yeah, I continue to have zero social life, but heck, I don't have time for one right now! It was kinda funny, last time I got my bodyfat assessment: One of the trainers, Dave, was doing my pinches (caliper testing), and remarking on how much fat I'd lost since I first started coming to them. Then he commented that my mate must surely be pleased at my new hard-body figure. "I don't have a mate," I told him. He just shook his head. "You will if you keep this up!" he replied. Ah, one can dream.

I'm also in school this week, to learn how to become an FTO (Field Training Officer.) This is one boooooooring school! Kinda hard to believe, though, that I've been doing this cop thing long enough to be tapped as a trainer. Admittedly, one is generally required to have at least two years experience before becoming an FTO (and I have slightly over a year and a half), but I guess I've shown that I'm not a complete fuck-up and kinda know what I'm doing. (I also got picked over several other members of my team who do have at least two years experience--so it's a bit of an ego boost.)

I'm fairly used to dead bodies by now. I've seen quite a number of them, and even the gory ones don't give me too much trouble. This past weekend I got called to a suicide where a young man (20) decided to put a pistol to his temple and pull the trigger. Temple shots are a lot less messy then in-the-mouth shots; when you stick a gun in your mouth and pull the trigger, it not only blows out the back of your head (if it's a halfway decent caliber) but it also makes your eyes bug out and often blows your teeth out. (I handled one of those last summer.) Temple shots are somewhat neater, but this one wasn't found for a couple of hours, and so there was a fair amount of blood and brain matter that had leaked out onto the floor, and there was a certain degree of splatter from the shot, some as much as six feet away.

I don't have a problem looking at a body like that. It becomes kinda plastic to me. Yep, that's a bit of brain, and watch where you're stepping because I think that's part of his eye.

But it was his dad who'd found him--and at first dad didn't realize what had happened... thought his son had just slipped and hit his head, and that's why there was all the blood. Until dad saw the gun on the floor.

I can handle looking at brain matter, but it took a lot of control for me to talk to the dad. He was so shaken I couldn't even get his name out of him. I ended up running the tag on the vehicle in the driveway just to get his information.

The dead are easy. They're plastic. The living are hard. They're still real.