A Dream Come True

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Stephen King discovered a thriller writer and recommended her. What a lucky lady, to have found a champion. Her books are only published in England, not here. One can always hope.

This and that day:

Last night I dreamed about baking bread so today I got up and made some. Tried the super-simple recipe for food processor bread. Takes about 10 minutes until you have dough, and another 45-60 minutes of rising. Then you bake. I made rolls (small) and a loaf. Tasted pretty good for lunch.

I made a pot of black bean soup, which we'll eat the bread with tonight and a small salad and some brownies. Sounds so good I want to race up to the kitchen and start eating. Bad!

This synopsis business I'm working on now ain't easy. A lot of us are having problems, not just me. Can't even imagine what I'll end up with. A good synopsis? Maybe so.

We have the cutest little red squirrel that is raiding the bird feeder, so small he climbs right into it. Thisbe flattens herself on the floor and stares at him.

I fed the cows today. They were in the corral and all of them mooed and bleated when we pulled up. They ate tons of grapefruit rinds and some stale wheat thins. The babies are all shaggy now with winter coats. No one seems to have busted a leg on the treacherous ice.

If you haven't seen "Letters from Iwo Jima," do go. As a kid I remember yelling "Bombs away over Tokyo" as I jumped out of a swing. We all did. Long after the war. It was so strange to be feeling such sympathy for the Japanese soldiers. Life is strange.

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