Backward book release
Ain’t out yet. Still under construction. Poor Ms. Fredlet, had the misfortune of calling in at the wrong time.
Comments got me thinking, and thinking is something I’m not very good at. But as I ready the first edition for a run at the press, I recalled a conversation with my father, Pa Wetzel.
We talked about hooks. I have another idea for a book, one I’ve been toying with in draft format. Perfect as the companion piece to this one. Only, the romance text is getting launched first. In backwards motion. Well, heck, that stuff’s been ready for this flurry of activity for over a year now. Might as well launch it.
To borrow a cliché, “run it up the flagpole and see who salutes.”
“Yeah Kramer, we’re hoping you’ll be the ‘creepy old man’ at the conference.”
I’m creepy enough, huh?
Keep those entertaining e-mails coming in….
Experiential
Wednesday afternoon seemed perfect for a long walk, over to the Eastern Loop of the trail. I was in a relatively good place, but I wanted to insure that I stayed in that good place. I kept getting jostled by e-mail requests for “one quick question” and “where did the free stuff go?”
I was out at the ballpark, by the power plant, and meandering along the trail, I stopped to watch a couple of young kids trying to play a “home run” game. One pitcher. One batter. Two other guys milling around with ball gloves.
Also made me think of childhood trauma. I hate baseball. Don’t ask. But it was refreshing to see those guys out doing summer activities.
The eastern loop, as it winds down to Pleasant Valley, then up around the south leg is pretty. Low clouds would momentarily obscure the (Leo) sun, yet, it was warm enough to almost qualify as hot. There was the slightest threat of rain, but none was forthcoming. At least, not while I was out. One cloud did dump about three big drops, but other than that, it was still a merry idyll for the afternoon.
I took pictures along the way trying to get the hang of how to focus the little camera up close. There were these white flowers, on a vine, behind the power plant, with purple hearts. None of those turned out. But it was a nice try. The joy of digital images? Erase them. No wasted film.
Also along the way, I mean, I got picture but you can’t tell, there was a young guy, fairly pale, in a john boat, fishing. His head was shaved. Except for a strip running from the front to the back. Dyed orange. (Hint: this is not a fashion statement I aim to make any time soon. But still, this is Austin.)
Late lunch in a taqueria with Mexican soaps on the tube. Delicious, cheap, “beef tips in gravy” – Carne Guisada.
Then arc back along the freeway, and I had a choice, and I took the longer route, just because I could. Worked out to a good eight miles, I’m sure. I pulled up at home, just as the clouds were starting to get serious. A few minutes later, it was that sound of rain on a metal roof. Tin roof. Aluminum. Something.
