Started a new editing project today, which is okay by me. I've been writing so much that I'm starting to feel like a giant, oversensitive bruise. Too much feeling. Too much trying to put feeling into words. So today I'm cheerfully hacking at someone else's prose, a task that is far easier and less transcendent than writing my own words but that still keeps me in the word zone. And in a little while I'm going to go clean the chicken house, a nasty wet job that will kick me into the world instead of letting me wander around inside my head. Which will also be okay.

Dinner tonight: Minestrone because my older son thinks it is divine. And brownies because my younger son gets cranky if too many days go by without homemade dessert. You might call this the dark side of refusing to buy Girl Scout cookies.