The secret life of authors

I'm sure some of you wonder what an author like me does when no one is looking. Well, no one is looking today . . . .

At 7AM, my son, Cubby, engaged me in stiff battle for a ride to school. "You're not busy," he yells! "You're just lazy!"

At 7.05, the battle ended with the arrival of the bus, and Cubby's departure.

They are forecasting a blizzard later today. Will it happen, or it is just a weatherman's dream? I figure I'll get ready just in case. As other Aspergians know, one the best things about winter is the opportunity it presents to use machinery to manage the snow.

I drove to work and helped Sal put the snow blower on the little tractor. Sal and I love to blow snow, and we have a real kick-ass-and-take-names machine with which to do it. When we do our sidewalk we can throw snow clean onto the front porches on the other side of Page Boulevard.

We tested the blower, and then washed the machine, filled it with fuel, and waxed it. The snow just slides right off a well-waxed tractor.

Then I met with Adam and Paul, our Land Rover crew. We looked at the Defender projects, spread all over the Rover shop. Paul is putting a new motor in an antique Rover, a vehicle that turned 24 the year Adam was born.

After that, I crawled under my rock to ponder the story of creativity, perspective, line drawing and painting. A possible addition to my book, or something for a future book. I consider the looming deadline for my next Rover News magazine article.

Then I went to lunch, where I read The Audacity of Hope while eating my sandwich and then switched to the The Omnivore's Dilemma as I consumed my cookie and second ice tea.

Later, I went home and got the big tractor greased and fueled and ready to clear the street where I live. What would life be like without large complex machines . . . . I shudder to imagine.

That is today's glimpse into the secret life of authors.


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