Me voila, and with much more regularity in the days to come
Well I'm back. Chicago seems lonlier than ever now, except that I'll be able to check LJ compulsively as I will have access to a computer pretty much any time I want it. And I have lots of things to do to keep me busy and not thinking about how nearly all of the people I love live far, far away from me. Not all. But most of them.
Managed to cry only a tiny bit while saying goodbye to Marj and Martin and Johanna today. Marj cried more. Antonin gave me two of the longest, cuddliest hugs I've ever gotten from a boy child when we left for the airport. Martin gave me the cootie catcher he made last night (which I now feel bad for getting exasperated with him about this morning--he spent about 14 of the last 24 hours going "How many? What color? You are a fish!")... the one that only has nice things written in it, and in English. Messages include: You are nice. You are really nice. You are cute. You are not stupid. You are the nicest. You are the best. You are pretty. You are the best cooker. I didn't manage to finish Voyage of the Dawn Treader with Johanna, but got her to the last half of the last chapter. Marj will finish.
Had a very productive flight home. It went fast. The minute I sat down in the airport, I opened up my notebook (thanks, cunien) and wrote. Did not stop writing until we landed, and then wrote some more in the cab. Have nearly finished the first draft of my DiH story, though it's quite possible that it sucks and is character murder and is really really cliched. And, oh, woe is me, I'm going to have to rewatch oodles of BoB to make sure I've got my facts straight and am only committing character manslaughter.
So I've got that to work on, and my trip photos to resize and organize and post, and the four quadrillion icons I came up with on the flight out to make, and movies to watch and stuff like that. So I should be able to keep pretty busy, as I said. Did not get to see Tim, which sucked heartily for several reasons, my own selfish ones not being chief among them.
Cats are weird and talky. Air conditioner sounds as if it might give up and die any moment, though it's still pumping out (in) cool air. I have no clean work clothes since--as you'll all remember I'm sure--I did not do my laundry before I left. Interesting.
Oh, I totally forgot to say that while I was camping Debbie got a letter from a super super super high profile agent (who represents, among other people, Peter Jackson and Fran Walsh) asking to see our whole manuscript, which she promptly sent him.
See? Everything's not lost.
Managed to cry only a tiny bit while saying goodbye to Marj and Martin and Johanna today. Marj cried more. Antonin gave me two of the longest, cuddliest hugs I've ever gotten from a boy child when we left for the airport. Martin gave me the cootie catcher he made last night (which I now feel bad for getting exasperated with him about this morning--he spent about 14 of the last 24 hours going "How many? What color? You are a fish!")... the one that only has nice things written in it, and in English. Messages include: You are nice. You are really nice. You are cute. You are not stupid. You are the nicest. You are the best. You are pretty. You are the best cooker. I didn't manage to finish Voyage of the Dawn Treader with Johanna, but got her to the last half of the last chapter. Marj will finish.
Had a very productive flight home. It went fast. The minute I sat down in the airport, I opened up my notebook (thanks, cunien) and wrote. Did not stop writing until we landed, and then wrote some more in the cab. Have nearly finished the first draft of my DiH story, though it's quite possible that it sucks and is character murder and is really really cliched. And, oh, woe is me, I'm going to have to rewatch oodles of BoB to make sure I've got my facts straight and am only committing character manslaughter.
So I've got that to work on, and my trip photos to resize and organize and post, and the four quadrillion icons I came up with on the flight out to make, and movies to watch and stuff like that. So I should be able to keep pretty busy, as I said. Did not get to see Tim, which sucked heartily for several reasons, my own selfish ones not being chief among them.
Cats are weird and talky. Air conditioner sounds as if it might give up and die any moment, though it's still pumping out (in) cool air. I have no clean work clothes since--as you'll all remember I'm sure--I did not do my laundry before I left. Interesting.
Oh, I totally forgot to say that while I was camping Debbie got a letter from a super super super high profile agent (who represents, among other people, Peter Jackson and Fran Walsh) asking to see our whole manuscript, which she promptly sent him.
See? Everything's not lost.