We had decided to follow our GPS rather than using one of those old-fashioned devices known as a "map," and that resulted in a rather roundabout route to Archbold, made worse by our collective hunger (we hadn't anticipated the border issue, and had decided to wait for lunch till crossing), and needing to find a bathroom, and the driver (me) making a series of wrong turns (husband says, "Go left"; driver turns right). I consider myself generally calm, as is my gentle husband, but suspect, based on Saturday's evidence, that we are not destined to win the Amazing Race.
The hotel was a lovely oasis, with a beautiful swimming pool. We slept remarkably well, seven in one room. And on the way home, just across the Canadian border, we ate lunch at a Viet-Thai restaurant that we came upon completely serendipitously.
Today is my writing day, and it's short, and I'm Monday-morning-brained. But I've had a piece of good news, professionally: I've earned a small grant toward this book. It shouldn't matter so much, but does make the work feel that much more purposeful. The project is about half-finished, and then will need some sturdy rewriting and editing at the opening chapters/stories. These are BIG stories, much longer and more intricate than I'm used to writing. Yet I want them also to feel as clean and cut-to-the-bone as possible. So that nothing remains but that which matters to the story. Nothing like life, really, yet hopefully illuminating thereof.