Apologies to Lit Buffs

Sorry if you thought this was a blog about Steinbeck. My wife and I do happen to like all things Steinbeck, and her much more than me, but I just chose the title cause I like it and this is a journey, maybe not as cool as his was, and there's no dog.

Here, I'll channel him for those of you that came here expecting Steinbeck: Woke up this morning late. I fear this project will never get finished. I doubt at times I have it in me. As I was telling Shelly, I have the beginning and I have the end. But that middle part bedevils me, like a hobo on a freight train, and I'm the railroad dick pursuing him. People just are no damn good, and my teammates don't seem to be even people. I don't know what they are. At least if they were dogs, I could sell them to a Korean butcher. But I can't and am therefore chained, like a gang member in for petty crime, to them for 9 more weeks. Ok, was that good enough for ya?