Every morning here begins with tea, a biscuit, and a few chapters of a credible book on becoming a better writer. At least, that's how all of my mornings start.
But today I have officially been here for three weeks. Hard to believe, really. So much has happened, but every day just zips by and I feel like I've only been here for a couple of days. Twelve weeks seemed like a really long time to me before I came here, but it's going to be gone before I know it.
Yesterday I made an elaborate dinner using the totally random ingredients in the kitchen. At first I was at a loss as to what to do with potatoes, a can of tuna, three slices of white bread, and a can of peas, but after some improvising, dinner consisted of tuna pasta salad, Texas toast, sauteed potatoes with herbes de provence, and peanut butter cookies. It was a good meal, actually, and today I ate the leftover pasta salad for lunch while standing in the kitchen doorway, looking at the sky and wondering if it was going to rain.
Later on, I sat outside with a glass of wine and my laptop, determined to meet the day's writing quota. This week's word count is: 4238. Still didn't meet my goal of 7,000, but it's an improvement over last week, and there is still significant progress being made. It was a really nice evening, watching the sun go down behind a stone wall while pondering what to write next.
Edith's sister came over with her Indian exchange student later. We mostly watched LMFAO music videos together and ate biscotti. Another good day filled with quiet, everyday magic.
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