29 October 2023

21 years ago I had a tumor yanked out from the underside of my brain via my sinuses. Yes, it was painful. I spent the 3 days following surgery on morphine, then Percoset, and they sent me home with a prescription for Vicodin, and stressed that I needed to fill it.

So, fill it I did, with the Spouse Thingy's help because I couldn't stand there long enough to hand it over to the pharmacy tech. When it was ready, they handed me two huge bottles--300 tablets. Of Vicodin.


When we got home, I wanted to go to bed, and I wanted Percoset. I don't know why, I just did, and we had two tablets left over from something else. I took one, napped, took another before bedtime, and after that managed it on Tylenol.

I never took any of the Vicodin, and we carted those pills around for YEARS.

Thing is, no one blinked at the amount I had been prescribed. It's just what they did back then. Controls weren't as tight; if your surgery had been painful enough, you took home a chitload of pills.

But, you can imagine what might have happened if I had taken them all, even as directed.

Floating around online, I'm seeing *a lot* of blame heaped on Matthew Perry for his own death. "Well, yeah, what did he expect?" "Drugs will do that to you." "No sympathy, he was a druggie."

I'm going out on a limb and presuming most of those people are too young to remember how his addictions began. And it started with surgery and post-op Vicodin. He got on it, and struggled to get off of it.

It was not a personal failing. He took the meds he was prescribed, and the meds got their hooks into him. It could happen to anyone...and back then it did, more often that it does now, I think.

They sent us home with insane amounts of pain relief. That was a kindness, right? Don't make the patient suffer, make sure they have relief at home.

What never seemed to come with those meds was a tapering plan.

Yes, he wound up horribly addicted, was in and out of rehab more than 20 times, but he tried. And he owned it. And the most likely scenario of his death is that after playing Pickleball for a couple hours, he went home, got in the hot tub for a soak when he was already overheated, and those years of struggle caught up with him. He likely had a heart attack, or even just passed out and drowned.

Don't blame him.

What happened to him was something no one deserved.

I keep thinking of those 300 tablets of Vicodin, and, damn...there but for the grace... y'know?


22 September 2023

 Last weekend, I decided it was time to stop "bedtime" and let the little monsters have run of the house at night. No lie, I really expected it was going to be horrible for a couple of weeks and I would get zero sleep, but they surprised me.

First night was confusing for them, I'm sure. At "bedtime," when I went into their room to put out fresh food and clean the litter box, CJ tried to herd Ozzy into the room. It took a heartbeat after I turned the light out for them to realize I'd left the gate open. Ozzy bolted down the hall like I'm freeeeeee! I'm freeeee! and I'm not sure what CJ did, but less than two minutes after I was in bed he was on top of me, purring away. He wiggled, crammed himself int my throat, and finally went to sleep.

For about 15 minutes.

It was a pattern all night long. Go do Cat Things for a bit, then come back and molest my armpits, drool on me (and in my armpits), mush my flesh with his tiny little death blades, then run off only to return.

I heard nothing from Ozzy. I slept in snatches, and at about 4:45 in the morning I heard a tiny, squeak meow. It wasn't CJ; he was busy drooling into my armpit. So I went to investigate and Ozzy was on top of the tallest bookcases, and I think she'd been there all night.

At the time she had just learned to get to UP but wasn't that good at finding DOWN. I flipped a light on, told her it was safe, and she found a way down.

Night two started off with as much kitten noise as you can imagine, both of them running around the bedroom like their little asterisks were on fire--and I discovered that CJ's coveted toy mousie with a rattle in it sounds a lot like plastic being chewed on at night--but after that CJ jumped on the bed to sleep with me, and Ozzy went off to do Ozzy things.

Sleep was not undisturbed because he kept getting up and coming back, but he slept in long stretches, which  meant I could, too.

And after was not a big deal. CJ has made me his bed and declared it her territory (he will not let Ozzy on the bed at night) and they're not making a ton of noise. Monday night the Spouse Thingy was home so there was a lot of excitement about his CPAP machine and how the sheets fluttered when his Bed Jet was on, but they let me sleep.

Bedtime is now for me, not them. They notice when I grab a drink and my phone and head to the back of the house and follow me, waiting patiently while I brush my teeth. Then it's Fresh Food Time, and they eat without worrying that gate will close, and after that Ozzy helps scoop the box, chasing the scoop as it moves through the litter, and they'll stay in the room after I turn the light out. No worries about being trapped.

What I was afraid would be a couple weeks of torture was basically a non-event.

Ngl, lol, I might be a little disappointed that they didn't go bat crap crazy for a while. I think I was hoping for a ton of funny cat stories, but all I got was armpit drool.


16 September 2023


Yesterday Ozzy discovered the uppermost UP. She's since spent a lot of time up there, walking across the top of the tall bookcases, to the TARDIS, then back, where apparently she has decided to take down the curtains.

I don't disagree with her on this; we've talked about taking them down since CJ climbed them. They're old, snagged repeatedly (Buddah), and we never close them so they might as well come down.

But man...she is all over the place now.

I used to have things there. No more. And I really should move the stuff on the shelf under it because that Dalek is not replaceable and I suspect she doesn't care.

This is the no-no side of the kitchen. They're allowed on the counter on the other side but not this one because hot things happen here...but we know better, hence the heavy wood cover on the stovetop. Today's struggle is keeping her away from the Crock Pot. I should just let her get close enough to feel the warmth seeping from it, but she's still baby and I'm not ready for that lesson.

Though given that she knocked over my other computer--I am still not ready to go see how bad the damage is--maybe I should.

(No, I will not.)

When we brought the kitties home we were pretty sure she would be the troublemaker of the two...damn, were we ever right.


5 September 2023

 We have become Those People. 

The people who buy the cats a stroller and take them for walks around the neighborhood, lapping the small park, talking to them the whole time to assure them that everything is fine and ISN'T THIS FUN???

Every now and then one of them responds, usually CJ, and he sounds small and confused despite being large and quite centered for a 5.5 month old.

I keep telling them they might as well get used to it and learn to enjoy it, because if they don't I'm getting them a puppy. I want someone to walk, dammit.


They've actually been very good about it, but we're not taking them far or for long yet. I was afraid this would freak them out, but in general they're very curious and are looking at everything around them, not curling up trying to hide.

And tonight, they saw their first dog. Ozzy was impressed. CJ just wanted to to home LOL


Five days in, and I've knocked out 50ish miles for the Great Cycle Challenge

If I can keep up the pace, I'll definitely up my mileage goal; chances are I'll need a rest day here and there, so we'll see, but I have high hopes.

I set my fundraising goal at $2500 and am in the $1400 ballpark right now. I'll get there. Donations can be made directly at my rider page, and I also have a Facebook Fundraiser going, which is connected to the GCC page. 

Since I can't do the long walks anymore, this one has become pretty important to me. And I believe in sweat equity, so I will get the miles in one way or another.


If we can get our asterisks in gear before the heat ramps up tomorrow, the Spouse Thingy is going to ride with me. This means a break stop and Starbucks, where I have discovered frappucinos with a creme base, so no coffee...I am going to drink every calorie I burn riding, aren't I...?

BTW, I learned how to change my name in the Bux app so I no longer have to hear my actual name called out. Haven't gotten a single snarky comment or look since I did. It's stupid, but it's a relief.


28 August 2023

Back in January, I wrenched my back. Badly. Pile on top of that my day to day back pain, and I could barely move. Like, just getting out of a chair was agonizing and I often needed help because halfway up was about all I could manage.

That also meant I could not ride, not at all. Or take walks. Or really...anything.

But then came a new doc and some new meds, and I can move. It still hurts but not OMG KILL ME hurts. But I can't really swing my leg over my road bike and even my step-through ebikes are problematic, so I haven't been riding, other than a couple of false starts, at all.

Thing is, I signed up for the Great Cycle Challenge and it starts on September first. I need to get on a bike. And this one sneaked up on my radar, a Trek Verve 3 lowstep. It's lower than a typical step-through, and on a test-sit at a bike shop (not my usual shop, which did not have it in stock) I was able to easily get my leg through and sit on it. It's comfortable. IT'S PURPLE, which might be the most important thing.

So the Spouse Thingy called my favorite shop and asked if they would take a bike in on trade, and yes, they will. So we took my least favorite bike over, they offered more than I thought I could get, and I placed an order for the Verve. It should get here this week...and then I can start slowly pumping out miles for the GCC.

This year I only pledged 200 miles, mostly because I am not sure how this will go. But if I hit that early, I'll add miles and with some luck I can reach the same 300 I've done the last 3 years. That only seems fair to my donors. 


"This would be so much nicer if she would just shave her legs already..."

I'm their favorite bed, apparently

...and clearly they love each other...

Ozzy and CJ are growing like weeds (he's cat-sized already, cripes), they're super active, and tons of fun. They're still being put into their bedroom at night because they get into everything, but we're just about ready to move the gate to the hallway entry so they can have more space to roam at night...which means they will have access to me allllll night long.

That's fine. I didn't want to sleep, anyway.


13 August 2023

I plopped down in my recliner last night to pound out a post about the cats, because they amuse the snot out of me and are cute as hell. But, I checked my email before I did, and after that, I just did not feel like it.

There was email from my editor's address, and I clicked on it without reading the subject header. I wish I had, so I could brace myself.

It was from her grandson, Brian. He interviewed me about Not About the Cookies when he was in 8th grade and she'd made him promise to be the one to contact me when it was "time."

Yesterday, it was time. Tracy tripped in the kitchen, hit her head, and was likely gone before she hit the floor. And honestly, that was probably how she wanted to go. Quickly, no prolonged illness, nothing like the drawn out passing of her son, Eric.

I will miss her.

She retired from publishing in the early 2000s and began editing for me in 2003. I knew upfront she was more a fan of the stories than perfect grammar and syntax (and it shows in a few of my books) but she extended an offer--let me be 2nd reader, after Mike, and I'll edit--and she definitely had suggestions that improved my work.

Because she was retired from the NY scene, she only worked with a few writers, never more than 4, and I was honored to be someone she never turned down.

She liked the Charybdis series, but she loved Wick. I'm not sure there would be as many books if she hadn't pestered for the next one as soon as one went to print. Hyrum became her favorite, and in her email Brian said, "She also said that if you ever decided to end the series, Vicat needs a major sendoff. I think she saw a little of herself in Vicat."

I can see that. Vicat refused promotions because she was in a place where she was needed, helping newbies get their footing. When she finally agreed to a change in jobs, it was first to annoy the snot out of the Emperor while protecting him, and then to protect his toddler.

Tracy's retirement life centered around helping newby and some established writers get just a bit more out of themselves. She helped us all get firmer footing and then encouraged us to fly.

Her life was long, she lived to 86, and it was happy; I think she was content with what she'd created out of life, and would kick my ass if I mourned.

But dammit, Battleax, I am going to miss you.


11 July 2023

 Odds n Endz #624,899.9536

I've been working on a manuscript, and because it's been so long since the start of the series, I needed to go back and read them again.

Kinda wish I hadn't, because it's left me with a conundrum and a problem to figure out.

I got to The Space Between Whens, and realized with horror that what went to print was not the final draft. The file used was likely the first draft. A really bad, passive-voice-laden, words-missing, first draft hellscape.

I'm pretty sure I know how it happened, and also know it's not my fault, but still...thousands and thousands of copies of that book are out there, and it's the wrong freaking draft.

I don't know if Amazon will allow a corrected upload.

I do know I'm having a Come-To-Jesus discussion with the responsible party soon.


Back in February our long-time doctor retired with very little notice. As in...none. We received a letter in the mail stating he was no longer seeing patients, and we needed to pick a new one.

Ok, fine. I get it. Last time I saw him he seemed as if he was done, and after the last few years, who can blame him? He was pushing 70, so sure, I get it. But we basically had to choose another without any real knowledge of the available doctors. Going through the list and their bios online, I picked a much younger doc who, unless she changes practices, should still be working long after we're dead.

Next appointment with her wasn't until June. That was all right, unless we got sick. I did wrench my back, badly, but if it had gotten any worse they would have just given me an appointment with a random doc, whoever had an available appointment. So, no harm, no foul.

We finally met with her--a requirement, she wants to meet all her new patients--and the 15-20 minute appointment I thought we were getting turned out to be a 90 minute thing, and she went over everything.

Long story short, she listened. Like, really listened. And for the first time I have a real answer about my back pain--spinal stenosis, not just arthritis--and a new medication to control the pain. I can't take NSAIDs any more, so no Ibuprofen or Naproxyn, and thought I just had to suffer. It's an off-label use of Cymbalta, and over time should play with the serotonin and other fun things in my brain to provide relief.

She also gave the Spouse Thingy the same thing to deal with arthritic knees.

The only downside...there are side effects. A lot of side effects that could take 8 weeks to resolve.


And I've had a lot of them. Nausea (which is already abating), lightheadedness, some tummy issues, but the biggest one is sleepiness.

Not just the yawns. This is like SLEEPINESS on a major scale. I have taken more naps in the last two weeks than I have in the last two decades. When I'm awake, I'm sleepy. My eyelids feel like they weigh ten pounds each. I fall asleep sitting up. The only thing I'm not doing is drooling. I have felt punch-drunk most of the time and I'm surprised I haven't fallen asleep while standing.

But it's working. I'm not worth much right now, and probably won't be for a few more weeks, but it's working.


The biggest thing going on here:

These two came home on June 26th, and have kept us super busy since. They're a whole bunch of go go go, and everything is new to them, and they've made this a very happy place again.

They also spend a lot of time doing this. Usually on me. Which works, since I can snooze while they do.

I had expected them to be several kinds of freaked out when we let them out of their carriers the first time (in the safety of their own room) but it took less than ten minutes before they were crawling all over us. It was like...hey, we get it, this is home and you belong to us, and we're going to make sure you know it. Also, we like climbing your legs whether you have pants on or not.

This was day one. And they've gotten even more affectionate since then. His name is Captain Jack (called CJ) and her name is Osgood (called Ozzy) and I don't think we could have chosen a better pair than these two.

Remind me of that when they totally destroy the furniture, which they seem determined to do.

(No I don't really care. We knew they would, and when they understand what not to do and where they should scratch instead, we can replace anything they're really ripped up. They just haven't learned yet.)

Ngl, I still miss Max and Buddah, but I already love these two like crazy. They were meant to be.





23 June 2023


It would have been nice if the kitties had been able to come home with us the day we adopted them, but I understand why not (they needed to be neutered, and you just can't trust people to bring them back to get it done...) And the delay is giving us time to better prepare for them.

Many years ago, we turned the spare room into Max's room. There was a sofa and love seat because he was an old man and needed (and deserved) the comfort, but not much else because he didn't need anything else.

After he died, I desperately needed that room to be anything other than Max's room. I needed to walk past it and not automatically look to see if he was sleeping there. So we hauled the furniture out and gave it to a kid just starting out on his own, put my bike in there, and decided it would be a Pain Cave.

But then we discovered Animal Crossing, we liked to play at the same time, so the bike came out and two TVs and two chairs went in.

That was awesome, and we used the room every day fora couple of years. But once the decision was made--it's time for new furry friends--I wanted it to become a cat room again. So we rearranged the house; my office went into the space where the Peleton lived (and still does...I can share) and the gaming room (LOL if you can call ACNH "gaming"...though I also play a bit of Mario Kart, quite badly) went where my office was, and...voila, space for a cat room.

So the day after we adopted them, we hit up PetsMart and spent way more than we should have. And with the time we wait for them, we were able to set up their space...I think the only other thing not there is a tall gate that was supposed to be here yesterday, but thanks for the delay, Amazon. I want the gate so they can chill but not have the bedroom door closed.

They're coming home the same day they've had surgery, so I'm pretty sure they'll need the downtime.

But who knows? I haven't had kittens for 17 years, and never a pair of them at the same time. 

When we got Buddah, Max was just shy of 4 years old. Buddah spent a lot of time in the Boy's bedroom because he was clearly sick and we needed to keep him away from Max (y'all might remember how well that worked out) but I don't remember if we otherwise restricted his run of the apartment for a while. And this house is considerably larger than that apartment was, with nooks and crannies to hide in, so I'm still not sure how much freedom they should have right off the bat.

But...this week is giving us time to go room to room, looking for hazards. Last night we blocked off access to the back of the washer and dryer (because a litter box will go in the laundry room, so closing it off is not really an option) and we finally hung up some pictures that have been leaning against a wall for far too long...we really didn't want them turning into scratching posts.

Over a decade ago, the Spouse Thingy built this super tall scratching post for Buddah, one that the long kitty could stretch out on. We kept it because it was in great shape, but when he pulled it out of storage, he note the top had cracked. So he has time to  fix that now.

They now have toys, two climbing trees, beds, food...everything two kittens need and a lot they really don't. And with any luck, this weekend I can find all the electrical cords they might discover and gnaw upon, and get those wrapped. And Amazon damn well better deliver that gate because I do not want to close the door on them while they recover.

They've also received their first gifts! Three super premium kitty crack bananas from Auntie Michelle and Baby Diva Olivia. I imagine they'll just be kick toys at first, until they're old enough for nip to affect them...these are perfect for kicking and clawing and gnawing upon.

I think we're 95% ready for their arrival.

Now if we could just agree on names...


20 June 2023

That today would have been Max's 22nd birthday was not on my mind when I woke up this morning. Mostly what I thought when I rolled over and opened my eyes was "Oh, gawd, it's not even 7 am," and then "Finally, I can pick up my bike today."

One of my e-bikes has been in the shop for 5 weeks; the pedal assist just kind of didn't work, and given how pricey these bikes are, I really wanted it to work (and it's too freaking heavy to ride me, I racked up 40 miles on it and it was like dragging a ton with me.) It took Pedego (manufacturer) to that long to come up with a fix for it, but they did, so an hor before the shop opened we headed up there (because it's an hour away) to pick it up.

I wanted to go early so we would have enough time to drop the bike off and then head back in the same direction, because today was the day we decided it was time.

We're ready for cats.

It also felt like it HAD to be today.

While I drove, Spouse Thingy looked at their website and found a whole bunch of possibilities, and even though I was firmly NO TUXEDOS he spotted a pair. 13 weeks old, surrendered at the same time, one black and white like Max was, and one gray and white.

He looked at others, but kept coming back to those two. So sure, I wanted to meet them.

The names on the papers attached to their fairly spacious and very-not-cagelike cage had them tagged as Tinker and Belle. 

Tinker (boy) is a black and white tux who kinda resembles Max at that age, but is not a duplicate.

Belle (girl) is, despite the photo, a gray and white tux...and did not like me.

I don't think she would have liked anyone. She seemed more annoyed than scared and didn't want to be held, which is fine. I wouldn't want a total stranger holding me close, either.


She did pose, though. 

I swear, she's gray LOL

But this guy...Mike held him first, and Tinker just kind of melted against him. He was quite content to be cuddled.

After I set the little girl back in the cage--because that's where she wanted to be and I believe in consent, which I did not have--I really looked at the little boy.

And then it hit me.

We were there to adopt 2 cats on Max's 22nd birthday. And they both resembled him, but not enough to make it a deal breaker.

Dudes, I cried. 

Right there by the cat cages, I got choked up and cried a little.

These two felt like fate. It was a done deal.

They can't come home until next week; they're scheduled for spaying and neutering on June 26th in the morning, so we can pick them up that afternoon. That gives us time to get their room sorted (yes, we took all the gaming stuff out of Max's old room, and it will be given to them) and to buy some toys and another cat tree (yes another...LOL we bought one already.)

They also need names. Neither Tinker nor Belle really float our collective boat.

When Max and Buddah died, we promised ourselves we would wait a couple years before adopting new pets. The idea was to take time to travel and do things, but COVID happened so there was no going anywhere anyway, and by the time we could it was like, eh, we kinda like staying home.

And still, I especially was not ready.

Until today.


29 May 2023

Yesterday was the 10th anniversary of my mom's death. I spent the day feeling about 90% of all the feelings; I didn't say anything on Facebook, or anywhere else, because I didn't want any sorrow-laden responses (and I still don't, so...) mostly because though I was feeling all the feels, it wasn't predominantly sadness. 

A large part of what I mused on was what the parents were up to, wherever they are. Did they mention it? Are they even aware of milestone dates and the passage of time? Does it even matter to them? I mean, they are where they are and there's no changing that, and they might not want to even if they could. Do the little slings and arrows of life and relationships still make them bristle? 

Given another year or two, could she and I have narrowed the distance that formed between us, or would we have both stayed on our own sides of a bridge burned down by a situation not of my making, but one for which she was sure I'd picked the wrong side to advocate? 

(Vagueness aside, I didn't think I was picking a side; I thought I was working to get her to give up stubbornness where stubbornness was destroying relationships.)

She was also still pretty angry about a book I'd written. But I'm okay with that.

But, yeah...felt a lot of feels yesterday.

Today would have been their anniversary, 74 years. There's zero doubt that they would have seen it, had they lived. Face it, they made it to 60 before my dad died, and at that point, you stay even if you never say another word to each other LOL

Spouse Thingy and I hit 40 years a year and a half ago; unless something happens, I have no doubt we'll hit 60.

I have no doubt that next year, I'll remember and kinda celebrate my parents' 75th.

Milestones matter to me.

I kinda hope that the Boy will remember some of ours when we're gone, no matter what parental gristle we've left him to chew on. 

And you do leave that, no matter how awesome at the whole parenting thing you think you are. It's reason enough to forgive, even if you do find yourself pondering the what-ifs through your life. Parents and kids look at life through different lenses; they carry different baggage.

I think its worth remembering that the baggage you carry was largely packed by a 10 year old. Those things were important at the time, but might not be worth dragging through life.

And I know, it's much easier to say "let it go" than it is to do that.

Letting go is work. 

Totally worth it.

But...yeah. She's been gone 10 years. It doesn't seem nearly that long. I miss them both, a hell of a lot, and while I wouldn't go so far as to say I wish they were still here--because those last years were not kind to them--I just...wish.



28 April 2023

Holy fark, I did not realize how much dust has accumulated on this blog. It was not intentional; if you'd asked me, I would have said that it had been a month or two, max. I mean, I'm egotistically could I go that long without hopping online and whining?

Then I remembered Facebook exists, and I've probably done my fair share of whining there.

Then I also realized that I haven't done a whole lot of writing in any medium for the last few months, because I cannot get comfortable sitting long enough to allow my brain to cough up the words and then get them onto virtual paper.

Early in January--like *right after* I signed up for a new fitness program, I wrenched my back. This itself is nothing new; I have a bad back. It always hurts. There is a constant ache right at L4-S1 and has been for a couple decades. But this was new; this started in my upper back, an agonizing 2-3" spot just under my shoulder blade near the spine, and I could barely move. Taking more than a shallow breath was problematic. I had never hurt that badly, and that's measured against having a tumor yanked out from the underside of my brain through my sinuses.

The big issue? I can't take NSAIDs. So no serial Ibuprofen to knock that sucker down to something tolerable. I took a single dose to hopefully take the edge off, and that reduced the fire about 3%, and after that I didn't dare take more (kidney issues...did you know your kidneys are the thing that filters NSAIDs? I didn't, not until I was told to avoid them, and only take if ABSOLUTELY necessary.)

After a couple days of that, and a whole lot of leaning on a heating pad, my lower back decided it wanted a fair share of the attention, too, and began screaming at me.

3 months later, and I am just now to the point where I can move like a normal person, though there are some things I cannot do sit for long periods because the upward pressure irritates my lower back. I sometimes need helping standing. Getting up feels like trying to force open a rusty hinge. It's not pretty.

So what did I do? I signed up for a 100 mile virtual bike ride for April.

Because I am Teh Smart.

I can't get onto my road bike, but I was able to kick my leg up just enough to get onto a step-through, banging my toes onto the bottom bracket. Barely. It left me wishing for (and perusing online) a Low-Step frame, which still really tempts me. The miles have been sloggingly slow, but I should finish the month with 100.

And while I can't sit long enough to really write, I have managed to get some rewrites done, turned in a manuscript, grumbled at more requested rewrites, and now have a new bouncing baby book out there.

The Lost Boys of EveryWhen.

It took a long time to even start this book, because I missed my co-writer. But I still feel him whispering to me when I'm working in the Wick Universe, and once I got rolling, I really got rolling. Now the book is out there (and a lot of you, a pleasing a lot of a lot, read the beta version last year) for people to buy...yet I still haven't gotten my author copies. I dig the cover and just want to see it for real.

Hopefully today. I know a few copies were shipped and should have gotten here yesterday, so maybe today.

And hopefully, too, I can get further into the next book. I know there's one more Wick book in me, and the story has been bubbling in my head for a long time. I don't know if it will be the last one, but there are other things I would also like to write, and I am not getting any younger.

Hey, maybe I can write under my own name again!

There was discussion about that with this latest book: who's the head author? Max or K.A.? Would it matter to readers? Most of them know who Max was and who K.A. is, so if the switch was made, would if affect anything?

In the end, it came down to fairness to Max. I could not have started any of this without him. So he's the Forever Head Writer on all things Wick.

I still miss that little chit more than is probably healthy.

That's okay.

Okay, so now go buy the book. I want a new bike. One that doesn't hurt to get onto.