My father, who liked to make French omelets the traditional, old-fashioned way, had a saying: "sometimes you get an omelet, sometimes you get a mess of eggs." Happens that way here, too. This morning's essay is a fail. I've been writing half the day, but it's just a mess of eggs. Can't be salvaged. Occasionally I'm amazed at how good I can be, but right now I'm amazed at how bad I can be.
There are those times when retreat is the better part of valor. I'm going to go watch a football game now. (With Stanford's triple-overtime win against USC last night and the spectacular Game Six of the World Series—they should make a movie out of that—this has been a great week in sports.) Regular programming on TOP will resume tomorrow.
Meanwhile, early warning: our next Print Offer will commence next Thursday, and run through the following Monday. It's a minor sale, by a minor photographer, and I will be constitutionally incapable of talking him up much. But I hope you'll come by and take a look.
And thanks a lot for all those nice comments yesterday!
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Original contents copyright 2011 by Michael C. Johnston and/or the bylined author. All Rights Reserved.