Scott snags his first college acceptance

Many interesting events occurred today, but the most important of them, to me, was that Scott was accepted to the one university to which he applied early action. (That means that the school accepted him early but he is not obligated to attend it.) That college was one of his top choices, so he now locked down an option he quite likes. As is typical of students at his high school, he's applying to quite a few colleges, so the process is far from over, but it's still nice to have an acceptance early.

I am so very proud of him.

More tomorrow on some of the other stuff.

It may not sound good

but a sandwich with fried bologna, bleu cheese, roast beef, muenster cheese, and ham is a tasty concoction indeed, particularly after you heat it up in a panini maker.

I'm just sayin'.

No one else seemed to appreciate my magnificent creation, but when are artists, even sandwich artists, truly appreciated in their lifetimes?

Yeah, it was make-your-own-sandwiches night here as we indulged in the annual viewing of the unrated cut of Bad Santa.

Writer line of the day

As I've mentioned before, I'm a big fan of the fine books from Subterranean Press. If you're not already buying books from them, I strongly encourage you to check them out. Bill Schafer, who runs the show there, is also a swell guy, another reason to buy from them.

Yesterday, I received from them a copy of Hellcats and Honeygirls, a book I ordered the moment I heard about it. This lovely hardback collects all three of the short mystery novels that Lawrence Block and Donald Westlake published under pseudonyms. I greatly admire the work of both of these writers, so I can't wait to read their collaborations.

Block provided an introduction to the collection, and in it I found a line, from Westlake, that hit home with me. I suspect it will with many, if not all, writers. Here's the excerpt that contains the line, with it in bold.

When Don agreed to have Hard Case Crime reissue some of his early books--crime novels, I should point out, which had nothing to apologize for--a mutual friend asked him why he thought this was a good idea. The money didn't amount to much, after all, and the work was not as good as what he'd produced since then, and--

"The difference between being in print and out of print," Don told him, "is the same as the difference between being alive and being dead."

I'm sure some writers would disagree and claim not to feel that way.

I suspect they'd be lying.

30 years ago

John Lennon was murdered. He was only 40 years old. I was 25. It still bugs me.

So listen to this song, which still matters. It really does.

I've seen the final cover art for The Wild Side

and it is gorgeous and hot and perfect for the book. No, I can't show it to you yet--I can only tease you--but as soon as I can, I will.

Well done, Dan Dos Santos!

On the road again: Las Vegas, day 4

Almost all of last night went to a fabulous dinner at Robuchon, one of America's few Michelin three-star restaurants and a bastion of French cuisine in the U.S. We opted, of course, for the largest menu, the sixteen-course Menu Degustation, and then we added a seventeenth course, a selection from the spectacular cheese trolley. One of the treats of this restaurant is its amazing bread cart, which offers over a dozen types of bread that they bake daily. We sampled entirely too many of them.

The result was a delicious meal in which we hit the food wall; we ran out of room and waddled out of the place like over-stuffed penguins.

After entirely too little sleep--the meal took nearly five hours--I arose at a time I frequently go to sleep, showered, and headed for the airport. The flights have been on time, however, and I'm in first class and enjoying bandwidth, so I cannot complain at all.

I'm posting now because I'll go straight from the airport to Scott's concert and from there to the usual whirlwind of settling in work at home.

Another trip to Las Vegas has passed without poker; I really must fix that!

On the road again: Las Vegas, day 3

I should probably be embarrassed that I'm in Las Vegas and doing little more than whiling away the day resting, but I'm not; I need the rest.

I should confess that I am also doing some research for the special project I'm not willing to announce yet. That is taking some time. More on it in a few months.

Tonight's dinner promises to be quite lovely, a meal at Robuchon, but I'll report on it tomorrow.

Back to the small tasks and resting.