I love how my husband knows me. We were sitting in the living room, recovering from a long day at work, and I said, “I think you’re going to need to take me to upstate New York  this summer to research my next novel.”

“Nooooooo,” he said, “Why are those people taking you there?”

This should tell you two things about my husband: He believes crossing the Mississippi River takes him too far east. And, he accepts the reality of the characters in my head.

I don’t know if he merely humors me in this or if he actually believes it. But he understands that I found Nora in New York. I can’t move her. I have to visit her in the little cottage she rents for the summer if I want to tell her story.

He has grown accustomed to extra people in our lives when I’m writing a book. He knows they live with me and may pop into a conversation at any given time. He accepts the distraction of my dual universe and even asks good questions about their lives, their motives, and the probability of their surviving the editorial cuts.

This may not be what the Biblical writer had in mind when he said a man should live with his wife with understanding. I only know it works.

I’m signing off now. I have to Google Cottage Rentals in Upstate New York.