i just want to say that i'm on draft 2.5 of the dissertation chapter i started last time we went to norway. this morning i was on draft 2.3 so somewhere there's progress--even if it means that i actually cut three pages and rearranged sections so that you could read it without wanting to put forks in your eyes. and really i think this happened because i heard owen downstairs asking my mom to read sections from for whom the bell tolls. i confess to not having actually read it yet--which is why it's downstairs on the coffee table as part of my new intrigue with hemingway or rather expat writers and their posthumous memoirs--but i heard nana reading something about snow. owen said "read the next poem!". so maybe that's the real progress, right? or maybe it means my son will finish my dissertation for me when he reaches eight.