I don't care for roast beef.  Chuck, etc.  I'm just not a meat eater.  But I cook it occasionally for everyone else.  I eat the gravy.  And you can't make decent gravy without cooking the roast.  Everyone else loves it and it's easy to do.

I'm through doing hard stuff.  For the first time in my life I made mashed potatoes without peeling them.  I'm never going to peel potatoes again.  They were wonderful.

My publisher is driving me nuts.  She can't seem to get her act together.  She keeps running to New York, etc. to publishers conventions.   Library conventions.  High school conventions.  Military conventions.  I called her yesterday and told her she was the ditziest person I had ever met.

Luckily she agreed with me.  But said that the conventions were where she promotes my book.  We'll see.  She still doesn't have a cover.  Or a blurb for the back of the cover.

I was supposed to have advance copies in May.  That didn't happen.  As Ken would say, "Their alligator mouth is ahead of their humming bird butt."   Oh, well.  It is what it is.

But it is frustrating.  The entire process has been horrible.  Getting a publisher is just a first step.  And I'm not complaining because everybody at the writer's convention last week were talking about how many rejection slips they got before they got an agent, much less a publisher.

I didn't get an agent.  And I've never been rejected by a publisher.  Praise God. I understand from the other writers that I a really blessed.  True, I didn't have to go through that process, but this ditziness is killing me.