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DID YOU THINK I'd fallen off a cliff?

Perhaps you imagined that I'd boldly emblazoned my biceps with "Live to ride, ride to live" and tattoos of dragons and butterflies (tastefully done, of course), punched a few piercings in crazy and unexpected parts of my anatomy, and run off with a group of bikers?

Did you ponder the possibility that I'd been summoned to Washington by Obama, with the idea that I could offer him special council on maintaining the country? (After all, I've had so much experience maintaining; where do you suppose I spent all afternoon today, anyhow? Uh-huh, right over there at Fair View, lugging a pair of clippers and a trowel around the grounds; meeting the man who'll install two new replacement windows for me, as well as repair a closet door that's off it's track; showing apartment 59 to Bob, who drives a white Toyota MR2 Spyder, works second shift, and claims he likes thing quiet. )

Hmm, those scenarios never crossed your mind? Likely, then, you decided that the task occupying many of my waking hours, and keeping me too busy to blog, was an editing job--poring over sentence structure, punctuation, and plot lines on a manuscript destined for the NY Times bestseller list.

However did you know?!*



*Details, you say? You want details?! I suppose I'll have to tell you, then--it's not my book manuscript at which I've been scratching away. This is the work of a good friend, already a published author, who must have suspected that with all the reading experience I've had since learning that C-A-T spells out the word for a feline creature and "See Puff go. Go, cat, go!" has a certain exciting ring to it, I should be qualified for this job of manuscript inspection.

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