Thanksgiving 2024

Hey, we did this thing again, and it went pretty well. The food was good, the cousins were cool, my aunt gave me a waffle maker, and nothing got broken or burned.

The worst thing that could be said about this year's holiday was that my oldest son - who drove down to his aunt's house from Rochester - spent it at the same dinner table as my arch enemy. We know this because she bombed FaceTime while Mike was on with his mother, and his soul left his body. Sadly, nobody accidentally knocked her down the stairs. Maybe for Christmas. 

At our house, everyone pitched in, and the smaller-than-the-cat turkey was pretty amazing. We used to buy for size, but I just don't like leftover turkey, it reminds me of the cadavers in the morgue I studied in art school. This one was more like a giant chicken. I brined it for about 6 hours, and WHOA. Worth it. Buy ten-pound birds, folks.

After everyone was gone, I was down in the studio, painting and typing and laying on my couch. I got a turntable stand instead of a book shelf for storing all the notebooks I cockroached from my mother's house, and the vinyl display racks are perfect for drying paintings. 

Got a new vase for my birthday, and started another floral painting. 

And in between, I've been transcribing. I'm already up to 12,000 words, not even halfway through the first notebook. The average novel is 100,000 words, so if her rough drafts are coming in around half that, it'll be easy fleshing it out into a book. Really enjoying the process.

Feeling kind of happy.