Doing it for the plot

The November Edition

Hi friends,

My mother’s mother, Nita, as we called her, used to say that everyone writes their own book.

She said it all the time; eyes high and twinkling, or sad, or pensive, as we sat around her dining room table, heaping the macarona bechamel she was so adept at making onto our plates.

She’d say it while we sat on her sofa, Egyptian soap operas playin…