I'm in Chicago.
I arrived this morning, which feels like about three mornings ago.
I would like to write about my school and library visits this afternoon.
And I would like to write about the warm and gushy way Greg shared my poem today at Gottabook.
(Warm and gushy)
And I would really, really like to tell you about being here in this city and space with my agents and about 20 of my agent mates, talking about books and schools and blogs and editors and, oh, chocolate and yoga and stuff.
But I'll have to wait and share some of that over the weekend.
Right now I just want to say that today is my husband's 46th birthday.
He is currently in between feeling "bad" and feeling "worse" thanks to the curse of dividing cells and the wonders of modern medicine. But nonetheless, he is at home celebrating his birthday by taking Small One to gymnastics and helping Tall One learn a mariachi tune on her violin and just being the all-around good guy that he is.
All the things I'd like to say about him right now would sound a little sappy and sentimental and starry-eyed.
So, instead, here's his birthday haiku.
And thanks, Honey, for everything....
You leave breathing room,
space for birds to sing, and fly.
So of course they do.