We all have a cradle-to-the-grave journey to make and, in between, what do you do? There's got to be something hereafter. Robert Duval

It’s my dad’s birthday today. In deference to my aunt and uncle’s math, he’s either 53 or my aunt’s younger brother who is now older than her. My cousins are still in their late twenties and I’m still nine. (I can pass for fourteen, not nine.) So happy birthday to Dad, even though I know he doesn’t read the blog.

On a completely different note, I wrote eight pages yesterday. Sweet bliss! Few things in life feel as good as words pouring effortlessly from your fingertips. And I’m not dried up today, just easing into a Saturday. I think that feels even better. I’ve been stuck editing the first book for so long that actually writing, making things up from nothing, flexes a different muscle. And the research, at this point, is enjoyable as well. I love animals, and since Taylor has so many animal guides, I get to do a lot of research on animals.

I’ve been reading The Tenant of Wildfell Hall by Anne Bronte and just finished Laurell K. Hamilton’s Kiss of Shadows. Both are great books in their own way. I love how the Bronte sisters are working within this proper framework but their stories, especially Tenant and Wuthering Heights, are so improper. There’s premarital sex, spousal abuse, all these things that weren’t talked about. I love it. And LKH always makes me want to go and write.

Again, on another note, I made some kickass lamb chops last night, marinated in a sauvignon blanc with garlic and rosemary. Then I grilled them and served them up dill and onion bread, steamed broccoli, and grilled asparagus, deglazed with more wine. It kicked ass. Now I gotta think up something as kickass for Dad’s birthday dinners, tonight and on Sunday with Gram. (Heavy sigh.) Good thing I enjoy cooking. I’m not always good at it, but I love doing it.