Aaron Lee Yeager

I am a dedicated and devoted housewife, who just happens to be a guy.

I come from a family of ballet dancers. (I know, right?) My parents actually met dancing at Ballet West together. So, the first few years of my life were spent backstage at productions like CATS, Dreamgirls, and A Chorus Line, where I developed a lifelong aversion to stage makeup. My parents even appeared in a few movies and TV shows, like Girls Just Wanna have fun, and the Tracy Ullman show, but that is about as much name-dropping as I can currently muster. I spent two years living in Argentina as a missionary, where I became addicted to mayonnaise, and developed a crippling fear of small dogs. In college I studied aviation, and was well on my way to becoming a commercial airline pilot when I suddenly developed a rare illness that left me with severe heart damage. Bed-ridden for about a year, I began writing, as it was one of the few things I could do. I spent the next decade writing books and taking care of my kids while my wife worked, waiting for that letter to come in the mail which never came. (Should have written about sparkly vampires instead) When my son Stephen passed away in July of 2012, I decided that I was going to dedicate my first book to him, and I wasn't going to wait for anyone's permission to be published anymore. I was going to do it myself.

I am not one of those Ivory Tower Authors. Cold, and distant, with snooty brass buttons, and a pompous red sash, wearing a cape shaped like a fancy degree, and a saber made of pretense. (Sounds like a good antagonist, though, doesn't it?) No, I'm the kind of author who likes to sit down on a tree stump with the fans and share a good plate of chow after a hard days work, swapping stories and jokes around a good roaring fire.

My children have given me many hand-drawn awards which I proudly display on my refrigerator. I also have somehow managed to hang onto a basketball participation trophy I got when I was, like, nine years old. The funny thing is I don't even like basketball, but it makes for a good keepsake of my youth.

I've always been a tall guy, but I don't really think of myself as being tall. I think of myself as being average height, and it is just normal for other people to be down around me at elbow level. For some reason people think it is socially acceptable to ask me to help them reach things when I am at the grocery store. "Excuse me, sir, but you are very tall, can you grab that thing for me on the top shelf?" It happens at least twice a month. I always feel like saying "You realize I don't work here, don't you?" but I never do. If it seems strange that it bugs me, just think of the reverse situation: "Excuse me, ma'am, you are very short, could you reach that box for me on the bottom shelf?" See what I mean? Not so cool now, huh?