It is 7:53 pm. I just walked outside into 103 degrees. But more than that, it is deafening out there. You, over there, with your sea breezes and lapping waves–and all you can hear is that lulling. And you, there by the creek, the sound of light rain on all those leafy trees. You outside looking up at the evening sky and hearing…not much. Well, you should come here to experience this Phoenix-in-July thing–Phoenix when everyone leaves but the cicadas.
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I could go on and on about my super-secret little project that is no longer secret (and wasn’t really so little after all). I wrote a book last fall. I did that largely in my tree fort, on a laptop. And I think, I mean I truly believe, that it rocks. It isn’t quite done. I mean–