The title for this afternoon post is derived from my current mood and state of mind. I kicked off the day at 6:00 AM with the writing of captions for the Route 66 Historic Atlas after breakfast, tied my butt to the chair until about 3:00 with a only a quick break for dinner, got a bit of exercise, and then, my dearest friend fixed a delicious taco salad for supper.
The captions are now written for the California and Arizona segment. This doesn’t bode well for my plan to have a bit of adventure on New Years Day as completion of this project is a priority.
As the New Years Day adventure is a tradition for my dearest friend and I, a compromise will have to be arranged. Perhaps I can write for five hours and then we can get in a desert picnic.
This atlas has proven to be even more difficult than the Route 66 Encyclopedia and that was grueling. In all honesty the weariness and frustration with what seems to be a never ending project are more the result of trying to write three books in eighteen months than the atlas itself.
Still, I am quite excited about the book and the planned debut at Cuba Fest in Cuba, Missouri next October. I derive tremendous satisfaction from being able to make a contribution to the Route 66 community and its preservation.
I am also eagerly anticipating adventures and opportunities in 2014, especially those that involve a chance to visit with old friends or that involve a road trip. The first of these take place on January 6 when I will speak at an Arizona Explorers luncheon.
In comparing calendars it appears as though my talks about obscure Route 66 history are growing in popularity. Even though I am seldom short of words and seem to have a gift for telling folks where to go, this is a rather recent development.
Speaking in public was something I avoided like a bag of rattlesnakes or an all vegan buffet. Now, however, I am doing it on a regular basis and find the opportunity to share stories with an interactive audience to be most enjoyable.
This sort of worries me. What other potentially enjoyable endeavors have I been avoiding? Does this mean I might learn to enjoy tofu or sprouts?
Then there is the little matter of submitting another book outline and proposal as per a publishers request. This one will be a return to my roots as it is to be a short overview of the literal war for dominance of the taxi industry in cities such as Chicago and New York during the 1920s.
As a hint of just how bad it was, consider this. Morris Markin, the founder of Checker, had his home firebombed. In New York City, a taxi driver was run off the road, drug from his cab, beaten senseless with a brick, and his customer was forcibly installed in the attackers cab.
Now, however, its time for a bit of relaxation in the form of some hard cider and a movie shared with my dearest friend.