I have a bunch of interviews to do for work today, and I have to finish proofreading this drug court book we did, and since it is such home-doable work I have once again remained in the glorious confines of Glendale, Queens. This morning Tink and I went to the mall and had tea and worked on our books for a couple of hours. Now that I have a list of scenes to do for this revision it is all going very smoothly; I have a bunch of stuff to add to the fairytale part of the book and it is shocking to me how easily I can write that stuff, which may speak to my level of sanity as well as my general and enviable state of glamourous enchantment. Anyway, I cooked lunch again for Tink and me and today I made wheat penne with broccoli/portabello mushroom/tomato/pork loin/garlic in basil tomato sauce, with a side salad of greens, cherry tomatoes, blueberries, avocado, and balsamic viniagrette. As I am already on the topic of my excessively amazing culinary skills I thought I should also mention how last week for the very first time I asked the man at the fish counter at the Food Emporium on 49th Street what fish was lovely and fresh that day. He stepped out from behind the counter and lovingly picked up a gleaming piece of turbot fillet, and said it had just come in that day and was beautiful and delicate and mild. I said, Is that what you recommend? And he looked at me like he was a priest about to bless me, and said, "Yes." And then he wrapped it for me as if it were a gift and then that night I cooked half of it for dinner along with some vegetables and I must say it was delectable, melt in your mouth kinda good. I don't know why I didn't befriend the fishman long ago. Now I am going to interview the man who is spearheading New York's prison reentry initiative. The end.