We are our both organ grinder and monkey, a humble and noble position. It beats frustration. I drove this morning to Vroman's Books in Pasadena, then Skylight in Los Feliz, then to Book Soup in West Hollywood, signed about sixty books, not more. Sixty.
After the signing I stopped at a cafe and I had two poached eggs with dry rye toast and sliced tomatoes and then came home.
I'm not watching the Super Bowl today. I don't want that much noise, don't want to think about the skill of the commercials, don't want to be impressed by them, don't want to join in the celebration or condemnation of Lady Gaga's half-time show. I peeled carrots.