Global warmingtangential

April 29, 2007

A lovely spring dawn, windows flung open, birds chirping, sky clear. I sit at the desk, bound and determined. Chapter 12 stares balefully at me. Behind it, an incomplete style sheet, and beyond that a stack of paper, the artwork, one figure, numerous tables, and several sharpened red pencils. When all that is done, the review of the edits. A lovely spring day, sigh ...

By way of putting off the inevitable, I turn to the funnies and lo and behold— my father (1915–2006) ... protesting again ....