After some particularly poor planning left me eating a random protein bar for breakfast and about twelve almonds for lunch, I immediately, upon checking into my hotel, ranged out and lucked onto . . . I think it was Hill Country Chicken? Which is my kind of place: pump your own ketchup, Doobie Brothers on the speakers, fried chicken in a bag. After which:

Then the next morning, after breakfast with my agent BJ Robbins (cool place, great agent), after having my badge sneaked aroun…

is the author of 23 or 25 or so books, +300 stories, some comic books, and all this stuff here. He lives in Boulder, Colorado, and has a few broken-down old trucks, one PhD, and way too many boots