A Writer's Day

My life seems normal to me, but sometimes I wonder. Today--up early, read papers, and start up bean soup. The ham bone to die for, soaked beans, onions, celery carrots, herbs, chicken broth, all bean soupy ingredients. And garlic. Lots of garlic. Get the soup going and iron all the Christmas napkins, etc. Marathon ironing.

The infamous ham bone!

We run errands for the umteenth day in a row. Huge backlog of errands, still. Finally home and ready to start on the robot fish. Eeek! The CNN video of the Colombian Navy boarding the drug submarine has disappeared. I find lots of other stuff, including some very interesting details about the Cali cartel, and it turns out I have actually intuited lots of good stuff in my In Flight book. Save and print huge amounts of drug trivia and not so trivia. The novel fed the short story and now the short story is feeding the novel and I am learning all kinds of interesting facts about the cocaine trade. Just what every woman needs to know.

S.O. and Annie are taking a nap, and I'm going to sneak upstairs and watch the food channel. So far not one word written but lots of good fodder.

And the soup upstairs, looking yummier by the minute and calling my name.

Grapeshot!

Yup!