A promo poster for the Commons contemporary fantasy book series.

Pretty happy with this promo poster-type thing for my contemporary fantasy novel series.

Well played, sir.

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She's so beautiful now
She doesn't wear her shoes!

I'm flying tomorrow. We prepaid for our seats. There will be no mercy shown.

Quote post with something good that lasted longer than the Confederacy (1861-1865).

My dog, Peppy (1974–1988).

Better Than Ezra is the ZaSu Pitts of Magnus Pykes.

But what about all the teen moms who will never know the joys of motherhood way before they're prepared for it?

The DeFranco Family was the Monroe Ficus of Anne Ramseys.

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I think the four-armed Lady Liberty has Uncle Sam's legs. And does that navy ballcap on the left say "Petunia"?

By that standard, we also need to hear from longtime E Street drummer Ernest "Boom" Carter and longtime violinist Suki Lahav.

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That’s my favorite part of the whole thing. An entire administration summed up in one graphic.

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Story of my life, I tell ya.

Stumbled into it today.

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Done.

The Journeyman (The Commons Book 1) The Journeyman (The Commons Book 1) - Kindle edition by Peck, Michael Alan. Download it once and read it on your Kindle device, PC, phones or tablets. Use features like bookmarks, note taking and highlighting while reading The Journeyman (The Commons Book 1).

"Paul Reid died in the snow at seventeen. The day of his death, he told a lie—and for the rest of his life, he wondered if that was what killed him."

I'm told I don't self-promote enough, but I just became a Booksky author, so here's the first book in my Commons contemporary fantasy series.

And you definitely need to monitor it the first time out, as oven times vary.

My go-to:

Foil-lined baking sheet on the center rack of a cold oven. Turn oven on to 400°F. Walk away.

Come back in 17 to 20 minutes. As soon as the bacon is golden brown, it's done. (You can leave it in a bit more to crisp it up, but pay attention, as it goes from "almost" to burned in no time.)

I've known so many of these types. They're utterly confounded by art.

A friend of mine who was a Wall Streeter for decades has said more times than I can count that you don't have to be smart to make money.

(And I'm sorry for your difficulties with your own mom.)

Thank you. She was a narcissist to boot, so that was a large part of it as well.

It's a therapy cliché, I guess, but as they say: it's not what you do that counts—it's what you do with what's been done to you.

Again, the two of you deserve a lot of credit for working through it.

So we beat on...

I give you a lot of credit for recognizing the change you needed to make and then making it. That's rare. Most big, loud, extroverts just get bigger and louder when they don't get the result they want.

My mom did.

And when she died, I hadn't seen her in five years.

Good for you for avoiding that.

That's a wonderful piece you wrote. Thank you.

My dad, my brother, and me in front of Apollo 11—1969.

Our fathers lit this fire in us. This is my dad, my brother, and me in front of Apollo 11, a couple of weeks before liftoff. (Dad was there working on Biosatellite 3.)

We choose to go to the moon. Indeed.

It still makes me tear up. And we all need to rediscover that collective lump in our throats.

And what's the standard? I was raised in a kosher household and had a bar mitzvah, but I married a non-Jew, eat my own weight in pork rinds weekly, and haven't been to synagogue in decades. I can say "dog," "cat," "desk," and "pencil" in Hebrew. So how Jewish am I, according to their official scale?

My one take that nobody wants to hear? Pound for pound, San Francisco's the best restaurant town. All the others have their brilliance, of course, but from low-end burritos to fine dining, S.F. wins.

If nothing else, the access to fresh ingredients is hard to beat.