Asked to envision Ernest Hemingway, many people picture the great American author knocking back Daiquiris at the El Floridita Bar in Havana, marlin fishing off Key West, or perhaps stalking the Serengeti for a trophy lion. It’s difficult to imagine him, well, “working.”

The truth is, Hemingway worked very hard. And he was undeniably consistent. The regulars at Sloppy Joes remembered the Mojitos and the laughs and the sunsets, but they didn’t see him get up every morning and hit the typewriter (yes the manual kind where you had to punch the keys with your fingers) and pound out a 1000 words a day. “I start in at seven in the morning,” Hemingway said of his routine. “And I always quit when I'm going good, so that I'll be able to pick right up again the next day."

The key is he did that nearly every day, week after week, for 30 years. Is this easy to do? No way. It’s easier to sleep in the next morning, maybe try some ‘hair of the dog,’ or put it off another day. That’s what most people would do. But most people don’t produce 7 novels, 60 short stories and nab a Nobel Prize and a Pulitzer before retiring to the Happy Hunting Grounds in the sky.

This disciplined schedule allowed Hemingway the afternoons and evenings to indulge in his favorite pursuits such as fishing (or wooing a new wife). But even then, Hemingway was always working. Once, while out on his boat, Pilar, Hemingway spied a weathered, elderly man in a small boat dwarfed by the enormity of the Gulfstream. This image became the idea for the famed novella, “The Old Man and the Sea.” At the bar Hemingway also worked; taking in the conversations, the tales, and the mannerisms of the colorful characters he encountered and working them into his stories bright and early the next morning. And it was the thought and effort he put into these stories that got them read and made him a success.

Maybe Hemingway drank too much, or fished too much, or walked down the aisle a few too many times, but he never let his vices or personal pursuits compromise his work. He pulled off this trick by having a daily game plan and sticking to it.

Oh, and he also liked to type standing up.

Leprechauns are sneaky, mischievous rascals, you just can't trust 'em. Especially on St. Patrick's Day.  So there is no other choice but to set traps for them. The good thing is, should you catch one of these shamrock-loving faeries, you can interrogate him and force him to reveal the location of his pot o' gold.

This trap was constructed out of a large coffee can. Note the friendly, green, inviting decor, sure to put even the wariest leprechaun at ease. Also the ladder--made of sticks--has an earthy, handcrafted feel to it. It resembles something they might use in their natural environment. The top of the can is covered by green construction paper and baited with a phony gold coin. (Don't use "Lucky Charms" cereal as bait, leprechauns take offense at that and will immediately be on their guard.)

All the wee fellow need do is climb up the ladder and attempt to steal the coin, then his plump belly will cause the paper cover to give way and plunge the orange-bearded sprite into the bottom of the can. There the hapless leprechaun will remain captive until he reveals the location of his gold. With the price of gold these days, though, expect the little miser to hold out for a while. Good luck!

 Watching the Olympics I’m struck by how many silver medalists dispIay sadness, frustration, and even anger at getting silver. We saw Yevgeny Plushenko’s visible frustration on the podium, and the U.S. women’s hockey team in tears as they consoled one another for their “loss.” For athletes of some countries, anything less than gold can actually mean negative repercussions for the athlete’s family.

In The Paradox of Choice: Why More is Less Barry Schwartz researched the psychology of satisfaction and regret, and points out that Olympic bronze medalists are typically happier than silver medalists with the latter often experiencing life-long remorse.  “If only I had done this, if I hadn’t done that.”

I asked Paul Kingsman, a professional speaker and Olympic bronze medalist about this and he agreed. “Whereas the bronze medalist has the appreciation of avoiding loss, the silver medalist tends to focus on what they feel they lost by not being one place better,” Kingsman says. “The closeness of the downside is more significant to the bronze medalist and tends to outweigh the potential thoughts of 'woulda, coulda shoulda' that the silver medalist might be feeling.” 

Kingsman talks about how he trained as a competitive swimmer not to beat others, but to win by competing against himself. “We took the view that the objective was to swim two minutes; I had no guarantee that two minutes would be fast enough to win,” Kingsman says. “But I hit my time and on the day, it was good enough for a medal.” As it turned out, he nabbed that medal by only four one-hundredths of a second! 

As we wrap up watching the Olympics it's a good time to think about what we want to excel in. But as we do it's important to note that winning--be it gold, silver, or bronze--involves factors that are often out of our control. Teddy Roosevelt said that what really counts is to be in the arena. Only then do you have a chance at winning anything.

Alas, snowman, your time is so short! You are fast returning from whence you came. Thank you for helping put some Eckhart Tolle in perspective--about truly living in "the now."

I found this roadside stand on Cape Cod's Route 6. It was located in Eastham on the site of a former gas station. A sign with an arrow marked the exit, "Fresh Turnips."

There's a bin filled with the fat, freshly dug root vegetables. Beside it is a table with an unmanned electronic scale beneath a plastic protective cover. An instruction sheet advises visitors to weigh the turnips and to drop the calculated payment into the mailbox-like cash box.

I selected four fat turnips and dropped $11.00 to cover the $10.40 displayed by the scale. The turnips turned out to be a delicious addition to an already Pilgrim-inspired Thanksgiving feast!

The Berlin Wall fell 20 years ago today. It brings back memories from when I was there as a young exchange student in 1984. Berlin is a great city and to encounter a wall slicing it in two was startling to behold.  Streets and trolley tracks ran right up to it and stopped.

The Soviet-run East Berlin in particular was an intimidating place to visit; the famous warning sign, “You Are Leaving the American Sector;” The gray-uniformed guards with full authorization to shoot to kill; the nearly-empty government-run restaurants and stores; the ever-present propaganda posters; the walls and buildings still pockmarked by bullet holes from the waning days of World War II.

At the time we visited it didn’t seem possible that five years later jubilant crowds would break through this barrier to reunite a city and a nation. Though I did manage one little act of protest by prying out a small piece of the concrete wall as a souvenir. I still have it on my desk.

"...One night a mysterious light appears in the topmost window of the old house. You decide to investigate...and you never return." So opened the fantastic LP from the 70's, Disney's Chilling, Thrilling Sounds of the Haunted House. As a kid I played that record repeatedly, particularly around this time of year. Featuring, "The Very Long Fuse," "The Unsafe Bridge," and "Shipwreck," the record was a compilation of classic sound effects and spooky tales told in the second person. It’s been out of print for years, but apparently now available on iTunes. A true Halloween classic!

Caught the first night of the The Great Jack O'Lantern Blaze, a walking tour through 5,500 pumpkins arranged in an array of cool, spooky Halloween scenes set to creepy music. And set--of all places--in Sleepy Hollow, NY. Halloween is officially kicked off.

The flag flies at half-staff at Coast Guard Beach as the remnants of Hurricane Danny take a shot at Cape Cod.