What does Agatha Christie, the Hutu of the DRC and Weebles of the female persuasion have in common?
While binging on Christie novels trying to soak up her style and grace, I’m researching the Congo Wars in search of a literary hook.
Meanwhile, my Weeble girl voice (a high-pitched, thoroughly annoying thing) is perpetually on call for unexpected visits from my first grade nephew, a Scorsese in the making.
Yes, this is currently my life.
How beautifully odd an existence I’ve found.