home. sort of.
Home, sweet home. I had breakfast with my movie agent, who assured me all sorts of things were on the brink of happening, then joined up again with Peerless Ken the escort, who took me to sign at three or four places on the way to Mysteries to Die For in Thousand Oaks. Of course, by the time we ended at 2:00, the holiday traffic had begun, and we got to the airport a shade after the one hour arrival. Security was slow, and when I got to the gate I discovered it wasn’t a gate but a shuttle, and only winsome angst and exquisite politeness got the shuttle out of the bay and the driver calling ahead to let them know I was on my way.
Traffic home was blessedly light, I came in the door and made myself a triple-scrambled egg on toast (water only since a waffle at 9:00) then greeted daughter, husband, cat, and mother, in that order.
And tomorrow I have to leave at 6:30 in the morning to do a five minute live television spot in San Francisco–at nine on KRON channel 4, for any of you who are up at that hour.
But after that, I have two days off, to sit and stare at the walls.
Thanks for keeping me company on this mad dash across the countryside, I trust I’ve made some of you reconsider the pull of a writing career?