Home again, Home again, Jiggity-jig.
My brain is fried, I'm exhausted, and recovery isn't something that's going to happen any time soon. And then there's the unpacking. And the laundry. And the homework. Ugh.
While I was off hiking through the soggy woods of West Tennessee (and scrambling over fallen trees from the recent tornadoes and losing the path and having to find my way back to the cabin with nary a bread crumb in sight) my darling husband was at home washing sheets and cleaning vomit from the carpet. It seems that our little Commander-in-Chief decided that a weekend without mommy was the perfect time to work up a really excellent stomach virus. I applaud that decision. Poor Seven. Poor Dan.
But we both fared better than poor Kathryn Lye, the Harlequin editor who was supposed to flying in from Toronto to spend the weekend with us and hear our pitches. First she was diverted to Scranton (which just sounds like something dirty), then they stuck her on a bus for a long ride back to JFK, which had NO FLIGHTS leaving. The poor darling was stuck in NYC with no luggage. She never made it to our retreat and is probably sitting in snowy Canada cursing all things Tennessean.
But, we had a wonderful time with 3-time RITA finalist Tanya Michaels/Michna. She and I enjoyed some particularly rabid fan girl crushing on Jenny Crusie and Susan Elizabeth Phillips and I talked too much and embarrassed myself. What else is new?
More later when I get back into the mommy groove again. I had way too much fun being with grown-ups all weekend.
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