Yeah, don’t even talk to me about the quantity of jam on this here toast. Â In the amount of time it took me to broker this compromise breakfast, I could have planted a strawberry seed, nurtured the plant to blossoming and producing ripe strawberries, picked ’em, and then cooked ’em
Kidding!  April Fools’! Never was, ever! Much to the consternation of my parents, and maybe even one or two would-be (guy) sweeties in high school, whose identities were only revealed to me years later by my sister, to whom they confessed their love-lorneness.  Who knew. And before we go, I
Buckling to the popular demand of two (count ’em: 2!) readers, I’m posting the notes I used in my talk on campus yesterday about why and how I write. I extemporized a lot, so some of what’s below didn’t get across. Plus more slipped in. But this is the jist.