John Dankosky's voice on my morning radio still sounds like home. This morning's offering is on 18th-century houses in New England. Fascinating stuff.
My current downtime reading is A year in the life of William Shakespeare, 1599 by James Shapiro (how do I love thee, LibraryThing? let me count the ways) which is excellent. Both in general, and for my nefarious purposes. Full of tidbits and useful telling details, which I will be raiding from heavily when I do the rewrite of Ink & Pen (TNFKATSM*) so yanno, don't even bother trying to catch me out, because I'm telling you up front.
Shapiro likes trivia. And of course the trivia of daily life is exactly what I need, because it's the sort of thing that makes a setting come alive (the resistance of a quill to the pen knife like paring a fingernail, the grit in a loaf of sugar, the way your hose bunch at the bend of your ankle). I am so very happy to have found this book.
Meanwhile, the cat is up and is walking across me mrting for breakfast. (I get up at seven, which seems luxury after years working in construction offices and at the media mines. Madame rises at a civilized hour.) Mrrt! Mrrt!
So I will do that, and make more coffee, and shower. And then I have to suck it up and write 1500 words by three, so I can get to the gym before traffic gets bad.
*The Novel Formerly Known As The Stratford Man.