Through the Looking Glass

Hello.

How have you been?  It feels like it's been a week since I talked to you last.  You know, a lot can happen in a week.  I mean, not that anything DID happen to/for me last week, but there was potential.  That's all I'm saying.  Things could have happened.  Well, I guess one thing happened: I finished the book.

Ok, that's an exaggeration.  I finished the last page of the book.  I still have some editing to do.  And the cover.  But finishing the last page felt...definitive somehow.  As I've said before, finishing the book makes me nervous.  And excited.  Like leftover three star chicken curry with broccoli.

Want to see some of the last page?  Well, I'm going to show you anyway.

As the book ends, the McGreevy family is just about to start a new week:

India's parents, accustomed to waking up earlier than their daughter, have come to rouse her:

When I was a kid, my parents always had to wake me up for school.  They woke up freakishly early every day, weekends included.  I'm pretty sure I was up before them once per year: Christmas morning.  Full stop.  End of exceptions.

School started at the usual time, but we lived out of town and the bus ride took an hour or more.  Hence the waking up at an indecent hour.  It was doubly excruciating to get up in Winter because it was dark and, as is the obnoxious habit of Winter, freaking cold.  I would fumble, bleak and bleary, to put on my haute couture Hammer pants and Hypercolor shirt (which never changes color when it's 25 degrees out).  And then I would have to be serenaded by the dulcet, swingin' 70's grooves of KVNI, my mom's favorite AM radio station.  I heard "Brandy" by Looking Glass more than most 6th graders care to.  Which is some.

But I guess that's why they call it the blues.

These days I wake up (modestly) early on purpose.  It's quiet and a great time to concentrate before the frenetic energy of the day begins.  It's part of how I was able to work on "Saturday" every day and still have a job.  I suppose I should thank the long bus rides, the cold mornings, and Looking Glass for the Shao Lin-like training that made it possible.

But I'm not going to, because Looking Glass is still gawd-awful and I never grew to like them.

Ok, fine.  I secretly love Looking Glass.  There I said it.  I have always told the truth, for I am an honest man.  And Brandy does her best to UNDERSTAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAND.

Do do do do do do do do do do do do.

Cheers.