January 3, 2005
A computer disaster today. Robert Ray tells me the hard drive with both books on it is toast and while he can save most of the Crown book, much of the CGII book is gone, mainly the tons of scans and layouts Gus and I worked on for the past three months. There are a couple of options, including sending the hard drive back to the manufacturer to see if they can salvage anything, so I'm not panicking, yet. And besides, I've been here before. As Emily Litella used to say, "It's always something." Especially when it comes to computers and offspring.

Speaking of which, I'm bugged at my daughter. She's a little snot. And you know what she'll say if she reads this? "Gee, I wonder where I got that?" And, she would be correct. She acts just like her mother.

We got socked with another wet storm and this time I got caught out in it. Dave Daiss, RG, Bob Brink and I met Mary and Jim Brown and Bob Willis at Rawhide at two to go over booth positions for Western Writers of America and True West at this year's Festival of the West. We walked the street looking at the locations and I didn't bring a jacket. And the rain really started coming down. Just had a sweatshirt on (where’s my mama when I need her: "Better take a jacket with you son."). We went over to Jalepeno's for a late lunch. Had the tortilla soup and decaf coffee to warm up. Never did (there's nothing like a wet sweatshirt to make you feel all soggy, all the time). Mary and Jim picked up the tab.

Got back to the office at three. No good news on the hard drive status. Finished a scratchboard of Mattie Earp with her "John" asleep, snoring with his mouth wide open, on the bed behind her. A half-empty bottle of laudanum sits before her as she ponders her fate without the husband who abandoned her.

Had a massage at four from Christie. Owed her for two times ($105, biz account). Came home and took a long, hot shower. Warmed me up. Kathy came home at about six, Cooked salmon, had a Caesar salad. Talked about our snotty daughter. Kathy claims she's acting just like her dad.

"The humorous man recognizes that absolute purity, absolute justice, absolute logic and perfection are beyond human achievement and that men have been able to live happily for thousands of years in a state of genial frailty."
—Brooks Atkinson