Another moving experience

Every time we think we've settled into some sort of serene groove, Life bumps the turntable.

Yes, we've moved again. We hope this is the last time for a long while, but who knows?

We bought this house by accident. We weren't really looking for a place to buy, but a "For Sale" sign appeared in the yard of a fixer-upper in our neighborhood, and we couldn't resist

The past two months have been a whirlwind of paperwork and moving and workmen and cardboard and noise

and sawdust and paint. I've acted as general contractor, madly writing checks to get the house whipped into shape. We're almost there. A few small repairs remain, but the boxes are unpacked and the painting's finished and we've got new blinds and steps and rugs and refrigerator in place.

The house is adobe-colored stucco like many Albuquerque homes, but we've dressed up the porch with sage-green paint and white trim. Our son Seth did the painting, and he soon will launch into a major landscaping project. But that's being designed and supervised by my wife Kelly, so I can hang up my general contractor hat for a while.

Now I'm doing revisions on DUKE CITY DESPERADO, third in the thriller series I'm writing as Max Austin. The first in the trilogy of crime novels, DUKE CITY SPLIT, comes out April 8 from Alibi/Random

House. The second, DUKE CITY HIT, will be a December publication. Both will be e-books. DUKE CITY SPLIT, which is available for preorder now, is the tale of two bank robbers who hit it big, only to have all the other crooks in town come after the loot. The first review on Goodreads says it's "a thrill on every page."

If all that's not busy enough, I'm also teaching my weekly "Become a Better Writer" class in the Honors College at the University of New Mexico. I've got a full class of 17 very bright undergraduates, and we're having a lot of fun so far.

We've only been in the new house for a couple of weeks, and we're hoping things slow down now so we can enjoy it and get accustomed to living here. Get into a new routine. You know, find a groove . . .