Rev. Erudite Redneck, B.S., B.S., M.A., M.Div.

OK, I admit it. I don't actually work for a living. I write about people who work for a living, and I edit stories about people who work for a living, and I assign and guide stories about people who work for a living.

But today I feel like I worked.

Red-pen proofed 40 pages of a book, 2 1/2 hours this morning, on a freelance editing deal that just fell plumb out of the sky. It'll amount to about a $500 deal, for about 12 hours of work, I think. Not bad. But it was work!

Went to work-work in time for a stressful hourlong meeting. Then answered phone messages. Then had my computer on just long enough to bang out a 20-minute story (that'd be 20 minutes). Turned that puppy off, slapped down the lid on the laptop, stuffed it in my briefcase, grabbed a video camera and hauled ass out of work back to the house, where I'd forgotten and left my still camera: 10 miles north to the house, then 15 miles south to downtown OKC, through construction zones both ways.

Got to the thing I was going to just in time; whipped out the video camera, shot some b-roll, did an interview, shot some close-ups. Used the still camera some. Then whupped out the notebook and watched a 90-minute presentation. Left 5 minutes early.

Drove 15 miles home and stumbled through the house, by way of a bottle of Cuervo and some fixings and my humidor, and into the back yard, where I read quite a bit on a book I'm reviewing (one of those in the sidebar to the left), and then just now plodded back into the house out of the heat (hitting 100 here this week) and turned on the Texas Rangers game and fixed another highball margarita, and came here to update the world.

Long-ass day. But the good kind of long-ass.

Store-bought pulled pork beckons.

--ER

(P.S. "Saving Grace," on last night, just keeps gettin' gooder and gooder. They're gonna keep getting into the Murrah Building bombing until this series becomes one that people never forget.)