I never thought I’d see the day I’d write so much about football. It’s weird, because I didn’t care at all for sports when I was growing up, even when I played football in high school. My interest in college and pro ball is a mutation of my late middle age. Like a mental skin-tag.
All of this is to say how appalled I am to notice this, and I will cease and desist. Until next season, that is, or something catches my attention.
Hey, but we all like food, right? My wife makes a Super Bowl spread to beat the band. Check out these jalapeño poppers:
Behold crispy green longboats filled with molten cheesy goodness, standing by to transport us to a delirium of spicy-hot caloric overindulgence. My wife wrapped these in bacon for Super Bowl XLIV, and it seemed like overkill. That’s how good these things are.
My wife and I have agreed that if the Super Bowl becomes too intolerable, we’ll repurpose the occasion as Jalapeño Poppers Sunday, keep the food, and watch a movie. It makes for a good fallback plan should the match-up in any given year prove unacceptable.
In other news, I managed to get the entire first act of my third zombie novel up before getting distracted by all this Super Bowl jazz. Cursory readings as I formatted the posts revealed the trimming I need to do, as well as the augmentation I’ll want to to write in lieu of reinforcing the starting and ending bases of my character arcs.
What does this mean? Nothing, except I gotta get back to work. One of the reasons I put the chapters up was to see what they looked like in public. Now I know. It ain’t bad, but it damn sure can be better. So that’s what we’ll do.
I have to consciously not use this trimming and augmentation as an excuse to avoid writing this chapter I’ve been dreading for over a year. It’s about to get really, really dark with The Wrong Kind of Dead’s Darkest Hour. That’s all I can say about it.
Meanwhile, cheers and thanks to all of my new Twitter friends, and especially to those of you snapping up the digital editions and even the occasional paperback of my first two books. Your very existence is inspirational—as in, I don’t want to piss you people off by slacking in the content department.
So. Let’s fast this foodbaby-bump off, and get down to business. Happy Mardi Gras. I’ll be in a state of indefinite Lent until I get this latest book finished.
All of this is to say how appalled I am to notice this, and I will cease and desist. Until next season, that is, or something catches my attention.
Hey, but we all like food, right? My wife makes a Super Bowl spread to beat the band. Check out these jalapeño poppers:
Behold crispy green longboats filled with molten cheesy goodness, standing by to transport us to a delirium of spicy-hot caloric overindulgence. My wife wrapped these in bacon for Super Bowl XLIV, and it seemed like overkill. That’s how good these things are.
My wife and I have agreed that if the Super Bowl becomes too intolerable, we’ll repurpose the occasion as Jalapeño Poppers Sunday, keep the food, and watch a movie. It makes for a good fallback plan should the match-up in any given year prove unacceptable.
 |
| Vegetarian nachos. What the hell, they work, and are darned photogenic, besides. |
In other news, I managed to get the entire first act of my third zombie novel up before getting distracted by all this Super Bowl jazz. Cursory readings as I formatted the posts revealed the trimming I need to do, as well as the augmentation I’ll want to to write in lieu of reinforcing the starting and ending bases of my character arcs.
What does this mean? Nothing, except I gotta get back to work. One of the reasons I put the chapters up was to see what they looked like in public. Now I know. It ain’t bad, but it damn sure can be better. So that’s what we’ll do.
 |
| Chicken wings and spring rolls. Oh, baby...oh puppymonkeybaby.... |
I have to consciously not use this trimming and augmentation as an excuse to avoid writing this chapter I’ve been dreading for over a year. It’s about to get really, really dark with The Wrong Kind of Dead’s Darkest Hour. That’s all I can say about it.
Meanwhile, cheers and thanks to all of my new Twitter friends, and especially to those of you snapping up the digital editions and even the occasional paperback of my first two books. Your very existence is inspirational—as in, I don’t want to piss you people off by slacking in the content department.
So. Let’s fast this foodbaby-bump off, and get down to business. Happy Mardi Gras. I’ll be in a state of indefinite Lent until I get this latest book finished.
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