I have no idea what to call this

It’s 1 a.m. now and I began formatting the Joseph Piram King autobiography at 3 a.m. yesterday. It's only 48 pages but I've worked on this thing steady for four days now.

I’m a little tired.

Wes’s great-great-grandfather began his career as a butcher supplying meat to Confederate forces in Wilmington, N.C. during the Civil War. He was converted and became a Baptist preacher for a time but changed his doctrinal views to become an Advent Christian and was tried for heresy. When the Baptist Association put him out, he became an Adventist preacher. And seeing the need for a doctor to work among poor people, he studied medicine to become a physician. His wife of 59 years died shortly before their anniversary and on the eve of what would have been their 60^th wedding anniversary and while on his sickbed, he dictated his autobiography to a daughter who wrote it down in pencil in school notebooks. He dwells more on their love affair than on either preaching or medicine.

I scanned in the text from pages done on an ancient manual typewriter and the scanner refuses to recognize anyspacebetweenanywords and the spaces have to be inserted one at a time.

The thing is a bitch to format.

The highpoint of my day was lunch with my daughter Eve. We had a delightful time as she advised me about books and life. She loves my jokes – hardly choked at all.

A minor crisis this evening made me think the king autobiography had already been published, but Ginny checked the Library of Congress catalogue and discovered that the copyright on that edition was from 1898. For a few hours there, I though I’d done all this work for nothing. I was in a rage kicking my own ass over my own stupidity. I’m glad she discovered that I was wrong and all upset over nothing … as is usually the case.

Tough day, but Jesus is Lord of the tough as well as the dull.