Sometimes when I get discouraged at how slowly my writing career is plodding along, how far I sometimes feel from my goal of growing up to essentially be that kid from Almost Famous, I need to remind myself that I’m already a long way from where I was last summer.  Once you’ve been asked to dispose of a tick that a customer plucked from her swollen calf, you’ve got nowhere to go but up.

Or, you know, out the window of your apartment in the hopes you’ll land in front of an oncoming UPS truck.

But mainly up.