Christmas here was fun. The typical bustle we generate. Kids to-ing and fro-ing. Cats. The rest of us. I sat around gabbing with everybody, tapping away at the memoir while a ham drizzled with bourbon glaze baked in the oven. Which was also fun. I'm up to 85 pages or so now.
The whole process is interesting. Notes on pages, explanations of process. Like the Whiting, it's nothing I ever expected.