Yesterday, I wrote about 1,500 words on "The Peddler's Tale, or Isobel's Revenge." If I push, I may actually be able to finish it today. Which would be good. Then I'm supposed to try and expand "Daughter Dear Desmodus," written in September 2011, into a longer story. I'm not sure it's something I can do, but I've promised to try.
Last night, an enormous dinner of roast turkey (baked with apples, walnuts, mushrooms, and celery) and etc., plus pecan pie and far more sorts of sweets than are healthy. We had Dogfish Head's Midas Touch ale, brewed with barley, honey, Muscat grapes, and saffron. I only had about a third of a bottle, I think, having become such a lightweight as regards alcohol. But it was very good. After dinner, we watched How the Grinch Stole Christmas (1966) and Horton Hears a Who (1970), followed by our annual and traditional and indispensable viewing of Badder Santa (2003). We didn't get to bed until almost four ayem, which was bad even for us.
Now, I have to try and wake up.