Sunday is editing day...

...and I'm working on a particularly gnarly manuscript right now. Can't disclose title or author, and soon the Gordian knot will be cut through, but it's a hard slog while I'm at it.

The aim of course is that no one see the blood and tears on every page. And please God, no one will.

My sister called today from my parents' house and told me that my mother had unearthed a letter from Ireland, c. 1951. The letter is actually a little hard to read because there are tears smearing the ink on the pages. So moved was my mom's cousin that she actually wept while she wrote. (And the content of the letter? A recap of my mother's trip to Clare when she was a lass.) The Irish -- what a gift for narrative.