I'm writing a novel

It's called Imagine, Arizona. It's my first attempt at a YA novel. (I'm not giving up picture books yet, just trying to expand my repertoire.) The story is about a Utopian community purposely "frozen in time" in 1980, before John Lennon died.

There's a chapter in which one of the characters meets the Beatles in India in 1968. While doing research I came across photos of the ashram (meditation camp) where the Beatles stayed with the maharishi. It was abandoned in the 1990s.

More details on the novel later. For now, here's a current shot of the bungalow where the Beatles stayed:

Here's a photo of John and Paul at the same location in 1968 superimposed over the newer photo:

If you know my obsessive personality, you will know that my chapter set in 1968 will be so historically accurate that Paul McCartney would scratch his head and say, "I don't remember meeting that bloke, but everything else is exactly right, so it must have really happened."

Our new thing is Marvelous Mrs. Maisel

We watch it together, and I'm constantly hitting pause so that I can figure out where they are. Thankfully Jo is a patient woman.

Tonight we trekked down to the Village to see the real-life locales.

First up, the Music Inn on West 4th Street. This is where Midge shopped for comedy albums.

It looks exactly the same in 2019. 

Next, the site of the original Gaslight Cafe, 116 Macdougal. In real life it was a "poetry cafe" that also hosted folk music acts and comedians. In the TV show it's where Midge gets her start in stand-up.

The old entrance is still there, but it's now a bar.

The interior is much smaller than depicted in the TV show.

It's nice to live in NYC. And have an adventurous spouse.

Ethan is sort of an adult

So I have no more children under the age of 18.

That's okay. We can make more.

And our new puppy, Whiskey, is kind of like a new baby.

We have not gotten a good night's sleep yet.

And there are lots of messes to clean up.

Bailey is rolling with it pretty well.

In other news, we had a little snow, Sam came home for a weekend, and I desperately need to finish a couple of manuscripts. Life goes on, and I'm happy to be here.