The day after a book releases is always weird for me. It’s kind of like….okay, now what?. Well, in this case I go to the Dreaded Tax Appointment. It’s not all bad, though, because 1) it should close out the tax process for me, which started in December and 2) it’ll keep me from going nuts waiting for reviews and checking to see if anybody’s blogged about the book.

I’m also title hunting. The working title for Gallagher’s story has been FUBAR…AFC2. There isn’t a font out there that could make that attractive on a book cover. (It means F—ked Up Beyond All Recognition…And F—king Cold, Too). With the previous titles of 72 Hours and On the Edge, and the upcoming print combo titled The Devlin Group: Adrenaline, it’s pretty clear I don’t have a theme going. Like “Lover” or “In Death”. Too late now. I’ve got On Ice rolling around in my head, but it seems rather abrupt, so I’m still pondering. It’s a fun thing to brainstorm while adding receipts for the umpteenth time.

So this morning the short kid and I were idling away minutes in the Dunkin Donuts drive-thru. He and I are both noisy people—we’re always singing or humming, much to the aggravation of the husband and the tall kid. Anyway, he had been humming the song from “Need for Speed: Hot Pursuit 2”, and then he changed to calling cadence…

I don’t know, but I’ve been told…

If I’d been drinking or eating, I would have choked, but as it was, I just held my breath. The only version I could remember at the moment involved the less-than-warm temperature of an Eskimo lady’s genitalia. During the fifteen years of living with a (former) Marine, I’ve heard several, and none of them were appropriate for a 6-year-old to sing to his mother, if you know what I mean.

…someone here is getting old.

The Applebee’s birthday chant. :doh: Resume breathing.

Okay, I’m done babbling. I should at least brush my hair—not that I’ll get a tax credit for it—and gather up some books for our little dependant to read while he waits. And waits…and waits. I see a Happy Meal in his future.