As I write this on a sunny Monday morning, a herd of teenagers are a few feet away. They've taken over my kitchen. Pots clattering, egg shells flung across the counter and Gummy Bears underfoot--the last time I checked, they'd grabbed the chocolate chips and were tossing them into the pancake batter. Yesterday 100-plus people arrived for Marlie's grad party; the kids in the kitchen are the pals who decided to spend the night in the basement.
Tomorrow evening I have a critique meeting with Mary Ann and Ellen. There's a stack of pages on my desk awaiting one last edit. My inbox is full. I picked Barry up from the airport last night--he worked a Wellness show in Chicago--and he's dead to the world in my bedroom. How he's managing to sleep through the chaos is a mystery.
To all of them, I send heartfelt cheer and a hearty thumbs up. I'd also send a pot of coffee but it won't transmit through cyberspace.