When I was getting up this morning, Rhonda went in to get John, and I heard him say "Happy Birthday to Hanna". Ha. He remembers the excitement of yesterday.

Hanna had a good day yesterday. She crammed cake into her mouth. Got some neat presents. Got to talk to Grandpa and Grandma on the phone.

John got a little antsy with all the attention focused on Hanna. He decided he'd remind us that he was still there, so was knocking Hanna's new tea set around, hopping around, etc...

Last night after the kids were in bed, I got three pages done to start Chapter 2 of The Circle. Writing is a funny thing. When you read a good book, the reading just flows, and it's easy to miss how much work went into creating that book. Writing is very much a craft, which is a scary word for me, because I'm not real craftsy. I wouldn't be any good at pottery or needlework or painting, etc... so I don't think of myself as a craftsman. Yet, good writing is more than just throwing words on a page, there is an art to it, and that's what makes it hard.