There used to be reporters at my newspaper who had a little box of commas above their keyboard with a hole in one corner where they spilled all over the copy.

I'm sure the retail sector is pleased by this.

And the beard. Without the beard, he's just another incel with a book on Amazon.

I think I have all those in a box in my attic.

I finally put my camper into the garage on Saturday, after leaving it parked in the backyard since August. There are a number of projects I've put off because "If I'm going to do something, I should take care of that trailer." A series of 10-minutes tasks later, it's in there, summer is really over.

Some of his best friends own airlines.

I am so glad that I've moved into self-publishing and don't have to worry about editors rejecting my books.

Now I get to see them rejected directly by thousands of readers who see my ads but choose not to buy.

As soon as you're up to it, get another cat. That's what we did. He passed the rigorous interview process and in one week, he caught 22 mice that Mr. Kitty hadn't been able to take care of.

Makes sense to me (except for tesselated). But then, I wrote a novel about a giant spinning hypercube that appears in the asteroid belt (to be released next year).

Last week, she barked for the second time in six years. Every few months, she levels up and gains a new skill.

Looks a lot like my dog, who also helps me with my stories, but on walks around our pleasant city block. Her name is Molly and she's a rescue dog from Arkansas who only came to life when we brought her to the beach in Maine and she realized she was a SEA DOG!

"Do you like to write?"

No ... I like to jump up and dance around the room when suddenly I look at the page and say "Wow -- I didn't see that coming!"

My great-grandfather was a teenager during the Civil War.