I'm finishing up the second read-through of my forthcoming memoir, Cover Me. It's a strange experience, this compressed re-living of large chunks of one's life after having had a break from this book for a few months. This one is easier to proof than Opa Nobody, but I'm am surprised as I was last time by how much anxiety this causes. Feels like being 9 months pregnant, hoping it's good, hoping I haven't been too finicky with my semi-colons. :)