It's Tuesday, and that means vegetables.
And eggs. I'm now so awash in eggs that the only recourse is to make a poundcake. Or a quiche. Or both.
I've been editing a piece to submit tonight (at midnight, because publishing is a strange and mysterious place). The sourdough sponge is perking along, and I'm happy with the piece so far.
This morning I considered taking up the Memoir again. It's daunting, but there's a section that keeps calling me. I'm sitting with the possibility.
The application for the Assistant Editor position has been submitted. Speaking of the strange and mysterious ways of the publishing world, I have no idea when to expect a response, but the application has been marked as "in review," so that's positive (right? Right? I'm reaching here . . . . )
