So yesterday I didn’t sit down to actually work until around 5 or 6 p.m.
Because… A friend asked if she could camp in the Funny Farm’s spare bedroom during a transitional period in her life. Her DH landed a very fine job in the Bay Area and has already launched himself there. She, meanwhile, has a teaching contract that she’s loath to walk out on — because she’d like to get academic work in California, she’d like not to burn any bridges — and she’s in the middle of her first semester of a master’s program in her profession.
We propose, therefore, that she’ll stay at my house for a month or two while enjoying the thrills of a commuter marriage (hooboy! lucky kids…). I’m pleased about this idea: it’ll be nice to have some company for a change, and it’s also nice to be able to do something for someone else. For a change.
She’s moving in on Thursday, so before than I need to shovel out the unholy mess that is my dwelling. Number one: the piles and piles of unused clothing in that bedroom’s closet!!!!
In the normal course of events, that closet would hold winter clothes and dressy stuff, and the one in my bedroom would hold summer clothes. Events, however, have been far from normal.
After the deboobifcation surgeries, I tried on all my tops and dresses and put the ones that definitely we re still wearable in my bedroom closet. A bunch of shirts and knit tops were too uncomfortable against the still-healing wounds to wear. Plus I still had some size 10 and size 12 jeans, which I figured I’d better not get rid of because I’d need them if I got fat again — which indeed has come to pass since the accursed gut surgery.
So I took all the uncomfortable clothes that I thought I might be able to wear in the future and hung them in the spare bedroom closet, with a PostIt note reminding me to try them on in May, when I expected to be more or less functional again.
In May I did go through those, try them on, and retrieve the ones worth wearing in the summer heat. A whole bunch of long-sleeved knit tops, sweaters, vests, and jackets remained in the storage closet.
So yesterday, by way of emptying out the closet for my friend, I went through all those, folded everything truly wintery and stored them in a suitcase, and moved stuff that I might be able to wear now that it’s cooling down a little bit into the bedroom closet.
The closet is now chuckablock full… Read “I have got TOO MUCH STUFF!
Really, I need to get rid of it. Because I rarely throw anything away, clothing items drift up like snow or sand dunes or dog hair… But you know, every time I shovel stuff out, within about two or three months I’m searching all over the house for it and I really need it and then I’m upset because I can’t find it and then I’m even more upset when I remember I gave it to the Goodwill! So on top of my innate laziness, I tend to be kind of conservative about getting rid of stuff I paid to have.
I did, however, haul a big pile out to the car to try to peddle at My Sister’s Closet when I’m near there next Thursday morning.
Interestingly, at least half of that came from My Sister’s Closet!
We’ll see if they’ll take the stuff back. 😀
While I’m at the Closet, I’m going to drop by their home furnishing store and see if, by any chance, they have a decent set of stainless flatware at a decent price.
One never knows. Miracles do happen. If (as I expect), they don’t, then I’ll drive straight up Scottsdale Road to the Sur La Table at Kierland Commons and pick up a plain, manageable set there.
But y’know…when it’s just me, that’s fine. (Well…it’s not fine, but it’s eminently survivable.) However, when there are two people trying to use the kitchen…no. I think it would be asking altogether too much to expect another person to keep the silver and the cheapo stainless (a Chinese knock-off of my Christofle pattern) separate and to remember not to put the silver in the washer. There’s a limit. So, I’m going to pack away the Christofle and get another set of stainless flatware, which will provide plenty of utensils (because I cook a lot and only run the washer every couple of days, I’ll often run through the entire supply of forks or spoons, just on my own!).
If I like the new stuff, then I’ll just keep it and never have to wash another fork by hand. But if I pine for the Christofle, I’ll break it back out after my friend goes west to join her husband and use whichever stainless set I prefer for cooking and knocking around.
Anyway, even though I had to work until 1 a.m. to catch up with publishing stuff left undone, I felt very pleased. A lot of shoveling-out got done. The spare closet is pretty much empty (except for a few hanging linens), so she’ll have plenty of room to stash her stuff. Next: shovel out the bathroom so she can find room to park her make-up. Then we’ll be good!
🙂
Wait! I forgot to show you this. How do you like this cover I designed last night?
Heee! Hafta to ask you: how about that! I think I’m getting pretty good at this. In fact, I may have missed my calling: I should’ve been a graphic designer.
This book is part of the Travelers frame story that will go on sale through November and possibly into December. We have two sets of stories for the holidays: Travelers probably is best for December, because it’s premised on a bunch of airline passengers becalmed overnight in an airport. The other, Family, is focused on Thanksgiving: the stories of brothers, sisters, and hangers-on making the annual trek home to Mama’s house for the big family reunion around Thanksgiving dinner.
So: watch for these stories, all of which are upbeat and fun and probably tell stories that resonate with your own life. Onward!
Do you ever have days where EVERYTHING YOU TOUCH goes ker-sproinnnggggggggg!And explodes in your hands? All over you?????
Okay, about 90 percent of this is because of my own carelessness. No question, I make a lot of extra work for myself by overlooking a LOT of stupid little mistakes. But DAY-um! There’s just too much of this stuff…and some of it — at least today’s some of it — is not of my concocting.
So I start at 5:30 a.m., as usual, figuring to toss off a short job and then feed the dogs and myself before getting on with the REAL work of the day, which is to plow through at least 50 pages of Most Honored Client’s current iteration of his magnum opus.
First, though, the latest Camptown Races masterpiece is on the schedule: post to Amazon. This is a nuisancey little job that can take half an hour or more, and because it’s a pesty thing to do, I’d like to get it off my plate first, before moving on with my day.
TWO HOURS LATER…finally I clicked “Publish” on the damn thing.
Problem the first: When I upload the cover art, I see that the font color selected for the title and author name is too dim to pop out against the mostly black and dark aqua background.
This is really a very cool, extremely strange and dark Halloween story, and I WANT THOSE COVERLINES TO BE EFFING ORANGE DAMN IT!
None of the oranges in my program’s standard color palette are bright enough, weirdly, to stand out against the dark background. So now I decide to create a shade of orange or red-orange or something that will work.
Three tries later, it’s clear that nothing in the red to orange range is gonna cut the proverbial mustard.
Understand, ONE try can take 8 or ten minutes. Or more, depending on how bad Cox’s “high-speed” (har har!) connection happens to be at any given moment. It takes for-freaking-EVER for a TIFF file to load to Amazon. Not as EVER as an entire MS, but EVER ENOUGH.
Finally I decide to change the font color to yellow. But the standard yellow in my palette is not gonna make it. Too grating. So once again, I have to fiddle around and fiddle around and FIDDLE around to develop a shade of yellow that doesn’t make my teeth grind.
(And I’ve broken another crown, BTW, with the tooth-grinding. Good morning to you, too.)
This looks much better. Create TIFF. Upload. Watch Amazon grind away and grind away. View result. Realize the blue “glow” effect is absolutely positively not gonna make it.
Back into the guts of the program. Adjust glow to the newly invented bright orange; transparency (against a black background!) 50 percent. Change color of font line to black. Re-upload. APPROVE! Create new full-size JPEG, create new low-res JPEG, create new thumbnail.
How do you like it, by the way? Is this creepy or is this not creepy? That horse standing in the water is a kelpie, a type of Celtic demon. Be scared. Be VERY scared!
Click on the image for a view of the REAL THING.
Upload edited, templated manuscript. Download the .mobi file into Amazon’s Kindle reader.
This process being one that takes forever, I finally get up and feed the dogs, who have gone back to bed.
Problem the next: Amazon detects a half-dozen “spelling errors.” These all appear to be Scottish dialect spellings in the Robert Burns verse I put in the front matter. Just as I click “ignore all,” I spot ONE real typo: Scottish is set lower-case somewhere in the MS.
Yes. Well. But that particular line is the book’s subtitle, which is set all caps, so no one would know whether you typed “Scottish” or “scottish.” However, knowing Amazon, I figure I’d better fix it. They can penalize you if they think you’ve got misspelled words in your MS: apparently part of the upload process is having one of their abused, terrorized wage slaves check the copy before it goes live.
Fix one character, reload. Go brush my teeth while this takes place.
Download the new .mobi file into Amazon’s Kindle reader. Go wash my face while this grinds and grinds and grinds away.
Back to proofing the .mobi file: In said front matter, half of the little definition of what a keltie is appears in italic! WTF? The name of the source, a website, is set italic, but the blurb itself is set roman. I can NOT figure out why a half-dozen words in the blurb appear as italic.
I screw around and SCREW around with this, racking up another couple of interminable uploads and downloads.
Finally I give up, scroll down the page, retype the copy, and retype the source, leaving it roman. Delete the corrupt passage. Pull up space pull up space pull up space.
Upload and download again. Pour another cup of coffee, open the back door and sic the dog on the new accursed cat that’s come over the wall, anti-cat barrier be damned. Takes almost as long to roust the puppy out of the sack as it does to re-download the .mobi file.
Return to proofing copy. The new passage I’ve typed spells “also” as “alos.” Alas.
Fix, upload, download.
And so on to infinity. Of course I find a few other errors. By the time this process is finished, it’s 7:30 in the morning! I haven’t had anything to eat. I haven’t walked the dogs. I haven’t come anywhere NEAR starting the project I’m supposed to be spending the entire day on.
A boxed set of the first six Fire-Rider stories is slated to go live on Wednesday. I haven’t updated the table of contents on a PC.
Yeah. Clever Amazon’s clever Word-to-MOBI converter cannot read the links in a TofC created on or even touched by a Mac computer. Don’t ask.
I send the MS to Tina. In the requisite 20 seconds, she returns it with the TofC updated on one of her terminals.
Now I need to enter new lines to break this thing up into the books it anthologizes. This, I hope and pray, will not fuck up in conversion (you may be sure the “hope” part is pretty forlorn). Ten minutes later I get down to the end of the thing and realize ONE CHAPTER in the last section lacks its numeral. Entering it in the TofC doesn’t work. AND the title of that book, which is supposedly formatted in a style undetectable to the ToC function, appears in the goddamn TofC as a chapter.
So I have to reformat the book title and fix the chapter title. And send it BACK to Tina to format on her PC. But not before deleting all the work I’ve interpolated into the TofC field, so as not to bollix it up on her end.
After all this screwing around, I see I haven’t assigned an ISBN to the damn thing. This requires ANOTHER ten or fifteen minutes of dorking-around time.
Right this very minute, I drop scribbling the present post (which I started as a device to vent and maybe allay some of the frustration factor) and head over to Bowker to get an ISBN.
Do you suppose I’ve written a stupid “description” for Bowker? Hell no. So now I have to write that, which you may be sure I don’t feel like doing to such an intense degree that I come up blank. I decide to wing it.
I upload the wrong cover image for the boxed set. Where’s the one Gary did? I search all over Digital Creation for the designer’s excellent rendition. Finally find it. Re-upload the cover image. Upload the PDF; watch the computer grind away and grind away. Jump through the remaining hoop after hoop after hoop after hoop. This consumes a good 15 minutes, maybe twenty.
BTW, you must get the first boxed set. It’s an incredible bargain: SIX FIRE-RIDER BOOKS FOR THE PRICE OF ONE!
Reviews of the serial installments are trending quite well. It is NOT p0rn0graphic and is, as a matter of fact and in my not-very-humble opinion, a truly terrific book. It will go live on Wednesday, probably around 6 p.m. Pacific time.
Just as Bowker finishes killing fifteen minutes of my time, the pool pump kicks on.
Yesterday, while my friend Carol and I were at a concert, a huge monsoonish storm came up. I don’t know how much water was dumped, but…whatEVER. Because I was across town, I wasn’t here to shut the pump off by way of preventing it from sucking up bushels of flying debris. When I got home along about 5 p.m., it was making a weird noise. The pump pot was gorged. I ran outside and shut the system down, figuring first thing in the morning I’d clean out the pump pot basket.
Yeah, well… First thing this morning, I was working. And the second thing. And the third thing. And the fourth…and so on to infuckingfinity!
I swear aloud, LEAP up, and FLY to the pool equipment. Shut down the gasping system and discombulate it. So much crap has been sucked up it has burst the plastic basket. That’ll be another 15 bucks I can’t afford.
Satan, the former owner of the Funny Farm, was an inveterate Happy Handyman. As you may know, the work of handyman hobbyists is usually suspect.
One of Satan’s projects was installation of a 12 x 5 metal storage shed on the east side of the house. Instead of pouring a concrete foundation, he laid down paving blocks, upon which he set his structure. The floor of this fine building is — wait for it! — oh yes! PLYWOOD!
Yeah.
The Sonoran Desert crawls with termites.
A family of these little munchers has found the shed and is eating its way across the floor. They’ve also invaded the shelves on the brick-and-board storage I built outside the shed — so those have to be taken apart and the boards tossed, somewhere far away from the house.
Saturday, I called my pet exterminator.
His wife called this morning to explain what they propose to do. No, they can’t use their (stinky!) organic (maybe not quite SO poisonous to humans and dogs?) product on termites. They have to use a standard termite product. For the same price, she said, they’d trench and apply prophylactic treatment to the entire house. They do not understand what this will entail, and I fail to enlighten her.
Price to treat the Funny Farm with a toxic product that is almost guaranteed to make me and the dogs sick? EIGHT HUNDRED DOLLAH!
I can’t very well not do it. Once they get into your house, if a home inspector spots damage you can NOT sell your house without expensively treating it, and by “expensive” we do not mean a mere $800.
This reduces me to tears. I have no idea how I am going to come up with $800, now that I’ve quit my teaching job so as to free up time to work on the publishing endeavor.
Another client sends work that she thinks I’m going to do forthwith. Alas, it will have to wait until I finish reading Magnificently Paying Client’s project, which has to be done by Friday. I don’t even open her email: it’s now another message marked “unread” and flagged with a little red flag.
I need to pay my writers. Simultaneously, I should create another spreadsheet for WonderAccountant to display checks and deposits for the S-corp, as we are having to do with my personal account thanks to the kind ministrations of Intuit.
So I get into my checkbook register, another target of my haste and carelessness. Transcribe entries for checks and deposits going back to last April. Now I realize a $300 check I wrote to one of the authors has never cleared. I’m not sure how much I still owe her, since things were a little muzzy before this.
I get in touch with her and inquire about the missing check. She’s never received it, and by the way, the Copyeditor’s Desk owes her $700.
That’s exactly what I figured, but not for the reasons I thought. Oh well.
Now it dawns on me that the missing $300 check was written and mailed on the same day as a check I wrote to another writer, who also reported that it never arrived on his end.
This means the post office has lost two checks.
I drove these checks up to the post office specifically so I could drop them into THEIR box, so they would not be stolen out of my mailbox. Thank you SO much, dear USPS.
Neither check has cleared. So I decide not to shoulder the hefty stop-payment fee to head off any fraud. In fact, if someone succeeds in fraudulently cashing the checks, the credit union will eat it anyway, since they should’ve noticed that Clorox or some such was applied to the “pay to the order of” line. I write a new check to Writer 1 and send out two other checks to a couple of other contributors. These I place in the unsecured mailbox out front, since there clearly is NO EFFING POINT IN MAKING MY WAY THROUGH A MIASMA OF ROAD CONSTRUCTION TO TAKE THESE THINGS DIRECT TO THE POST OFFICE.
It’s now 12:36. I’ve had one banana and a handful of pecans to eat today. Plus three cups of cowboy-strength coffee (it’s ready when a spoon will stand up in pot).
Every single thing I’ve touched or so much as looked at today has devolved into some kind of fuck-up. I am hungry (whaddaya bet the grill is out of propane?) and I want a bourbon and water and that is exactly what I am going to have.
So here at the Funny Farm, the proprietor continues to put in 12- to 14-hour days. Got a meeting in another two hours, which means no time to write this post AND get any significant other work done. WTF…I’m writing. Dammit, I get a chance to have a cup of coffee and rest for a few minutes.
Yesterday FaM subscribers received an email warning…uhm, advising you all that I soon will be emanating a kind of business newsletter from the Camptown Ladies site, holding forth more about the adventure of starting a new publishing enterprise than about the Racy Books themselves.
A rose, a candle, and an extraordinary man… Or is he a man?
Speaking of the which, I see I’ve failed to mention our latest shenanigan, The Ouija Lover. Actually, this randy little number is one of my favorite books. The characters come to life quickly and are pretty entertaining — they get more so in the second book of the series, The Taming of Bonnie. The conceit — the “concept” in Hollywoodese — is really bizarre. So that went online yesterday, available for your browsing pleasure at this very moment.
The Ouija Lover is one of several spooky-themed stories that we’re publishing in honor of Halloween and La Dia de los Muertos. Only one of them, Kelpie (scheduled for publication next week), is really very dark.
Interestingly, most of the Camptown Races stories are fairly light and upbeat. That, apparently, is the overall mood of my writers. The occasional heavy or dark piece is an intriguing exception. I think that’s because these stories are very fun to write and (we hope) fun to read. We’re all getting a hoot out of creating racy stories!
Meanwhile, life goes on. In altogether different realms … I wish to sic one of our fictional spooks on the dunderheads who came up with “high-efficiency” home appliances. There’s another bizarre conceit: the idea that a piece of equipment that takes twice as long to do the job and does it badly (so the job often has to be done over again) magically saves electricity and water. Where do people dream these ideas up?
The present target of my ire is (again) the expensive Bosch dishwasher that I installed to replace the deceased (allegedly less marvelously “efficient”) model. This is the one that won’t get your dishes clean unless you run it on the “Sanitize” cycle, thereby engaging an internal heater that boosts the water’s heat enough to wash off the dirt without benefit of functional detergent. The cycle that takes two hours and forty-one minutes of electric power to wash a load of dishes that would take you about 15 minutes and no electric power (assuming you have a gas water heater) to wash by hand.
Now, I happen to own a set of Christofle silverware that the ex- and I bought back when we were flush and dumb. After we split, I took the silver with me. And I thought at the time, I am gonna use this silver and not save it for a special occasion, BECAUSE special occasions never come and I love this stuff.
So for the past 18 or 20 years, I’ve used the Christofle every day, with every meal. Early on, I found a set of stainless that knocks off Christofle’s design (no longer available: patent infringement?), which I use for cooking. And early on, I learned that if you keep the stainless separate from the silver, you can run the silverware through the dishwasher with no harm.
Well. So it went until I acquired the current “efficient” Bosch. After I figured out that the only way to get the contraption to work was to run it on the sani-cycle every time, I found that suddenly the silver was tarnishing and needed to be repolished every time I turned around. (Normally I’d polish the silver maybe once every six months or a year — if you’re using it all the time, it doesn’t tarnish unless you leave it sitting in lemon juice or some such.)
WTF? Why was I suddenly having to polish the silver every two weeks?
Finally I figured out that it must have something to do with the heat in the washer’s sanitize cycle. If you want the dishes clean, you can’t put the silverware in there.
And that means that if I want to use my silver, I have to wash every piece by hand after every meal!!!!
Thank you, dear environmentally correct hucksters, for taking us back to the 1950s in one more aspect of our lives.
Now, in general I’m none too fond of housework. But of all the housework chores, I hate washing dishes by hand with the deepest passion. It’s one thing to have to wash the laundry by hand once every week or two. But another thing altogether to have to wash eating utensils by hand two or three times a day.
It’s such a nuisance, in fact, that I’m thinking about packing up the silver, hiding it from the burglars somewhere or giving it to my son, and just going over to Pottery Barn or Crate & Barrel and buying a set of decent stainless.
The Christofle knock-off stainless is cheap and light-weight. The real stuff, the silver, has a nice heft to it, which adds to the pleasure of a nice meal. A better set of stainless would have that quality, and it also would go in the dishwasher. Voilà: one annoyance gone. Sort of.
Crate & Barrel has some very attractive 18/10 designs. They’re not cheap, but they’re not horribly expensive. I just resent having to put away something I’ve made part of my daily life and that I enjoy using. Nor do I want to spend money on something like this because of some stupid “improvement” that’s utterly unnecessary, ineffective, and unfair.
Suspicions confirmed: Twitter and Facebook are time-sucking wastes of your marketing energy.
Here’s a fellow that I stumbled upon at (where else?) Twitter: a gent named Derek Haines, who not only mounts endless social media and other types of campaigns to market his bookoids, but who largely advises against the same.
To stuff his message into a nutshell, he says that the sole purpose of Twitter, Facebook, Google+, and waypoints is to drive readers to your blogs.
Flogging your books on Twitter, as so many people do, may or may not be a waste of time (his opinion is mixed; I’d suggest it is a waste of time, but only from a subjective viewpoint: my brain filters out anything that looks like an ad). Post your content and your message not on Twitter but on your blogsite. Then at the bleatfests, post cogent “hooks” of reasonably entertaining or useful messages with links to your site.
Furthermore, Haines suggests that Google+ is far more effective than Twitter as a way to build visibility, because Google puts (correctly designed) Google+ bleats in its search rankings. Apparently it does not do that with all the other social bleating.
That notwithstanding, says he, what you need is not brain-banging time-sucking social media campaigns. What you need is a decent mailing list.
Dayum!
Do you have a clue to how much time this will save? I have been wasting SO goddamn much time on Twitter! Ugh, ugh, and ugh!
And you know, down at the Small Business Administration, one of the mentor/instructors remarked that for any given small business owner, an hour of one’s time is worth (hang onto your hats, folks), TWO HUNDRED AND SEVENTY-FIVE DOLLARS.
In that scenario, I’ve probably lost $78,000± over the past few weeks, diddled away on trying to make an impression in the bleatfest of social media.
So, here’s what I think to be the case, when it comes to marketing b2c: business to customer:
Get on Google+
Maintain a Twitter presence, if you must
Build one or two excellent blogs, in which you post content that someone, somewhere wants to read.
Advertise the product on those blogs as an apparent afterthought (heh!)
Use Google+ and Twitter to direct people to your blogsites.
Once they’re at the site, provide them with useful information or entertainment.
Have ads for the product available at the website
Provide mailing list sign-ups for readers, and send worthwhile content to those who agree to subscribe.
If what you’re selling b2c is books, build a platform at Amazon Author and Goodreads…and what? Yes: use them to direct people to your blogsites.
Duh!
This is SO much less work, SO much less tedium, and SO much easier than dorking with Twitter and FB four or five or six times a day…it defies belief.
It is after 10 p.m. I have devoted the requisite 3 hours to marketing, 3 hours to editing, 3 hours to writing, and then some, then some, and then some. And so, my friends, to bed. Watch this site for more and better content!
A-n-n-d… Over at Camptown Races Press, we’re giving away a free advance copy of Janet and the Djinn to anyone who signs up for our newsletter. It’s a whimsical story of a sad lady whose Craig’s List adventure plays right into October’s spooky Halloween mood. Very fun. If you like your erotic romance spiced with magical realism, you’ll love this story!
Time to get up and start working right now. If you wonder what’s been up the past couple of days, check out The Writing Life at Writers Plain & Simple. Whew!
TODAY our first Racy Book for Racy Readers gets “published” at Amazon. It probably won’t be available until later in the day or tomorrow. Will let you know with a link when it’s online.
We now have four, possibly five writers working for Camptown Races Press. We have enough copy to post eight books (possibly nine) this month and that many again next month. And we’ll be working toward meeting our goal of ten a month between now and next March, when we either start to make a profit or go broke.
😀
I just picked up three editorial projects that will stave off brokitude another month or so, plus enough money came in from the blog to cover the corporation’s September bills.
We shall soon see, then, if it’s true that erotica sells, and sells in enough quantity to support its scribblers.
Yesterday I met with a social media specialist. She likes The Girls’ Twitter page (@RacyLadies) but wasn’t so crazy about their blogsite, which we had to admit was pretty lame. (That would be why we were meeting with a social media specialist!) She had a few great suggestions, most of which will have to be implemented by our web guru, Grayson. In the interim — until he can get around to making some of her ideas happen — I adjusted the banner to echo the elements she liked on the Twitter presence. Just those small changes make a difference. But I hope Grayson will be able to improve it significantly, given the advice we received yesterday.
Funny about Money has been neglected — as has most of the rest of my life — while I struggle with the enormous workload. Starting a business is a project that sucks all the time out of a room. Incredible!
I’ve decided to break the day into four three-hour chunks: three hours on editing, three hours on social media marketing, three hours on preparing copy for press, three hours on everything else. We’ll see if that works better than the usual listing.
Lists, as usual, work for me. But there’s so damn MUCH to have to get done every day that I still find myself feeling pretty frantic. You know…that “life is totally out of control” feeling?
Ugh, I hate that sensation!
Anyway, I haven’t forgotten about Funny’s readers!
And for your delectation: it’s still not too late to get an advance copy of Billy and the Biker, since it will be half a day or more before the book goes live at Amazon. Come on over to The Ladies’ website, sign up for their newsletter, and we’ll send you a copy in .mobi and PDF forms! The link to sign up is at the VERY tip-top of the page — a little hard to see just now. That’s one of the things we have to fix. But if you can’t find it, just leave a comment to that post, and we’ll sign you up and send you a copy.
