Thanks everyone for the prayers & well-wishes – the three year old got a great report from her doctor and came through the procedure beautifully. We’re home, safe and sound and slightly exhausted, but happy. I’ll get to bloghopping later on so I can catch up with everyone, and then I need to write. Because, you know, page 140 and all.

But first, a few brief observations from our trip.

To the woman sitting in front of the three year old on the trip from New York to Cincinnati: I understand that, to most people, bringing a child on a plane is the equivalent of bringing the devil’s spawn onto a plane. And I understand that, I really, really do, because I am one of those people who will say, please don’t seat me near any kids, even if I’m with my own kid. Which is why I could never teach on the elementary level (and bless all of you who do – but give me hormonal middle and high school kids every time.) Anyway – please note that the three year old kicked the back of your seat for maybe thirty seconds before the husband and I noticed it. And we immediately held the three year old’s legs so she could no longer kick. But I don’t think there was a need for you to yell out, Oh, this is going to be fun, and to answer your husband with, well, now it’s down to intermittent kicking, when both of you clearly turned around and saw us holding said child’s legs and you clearly heard us say to one another that, as soon as the plane took off, we’d unstrap the seat and turn it so she could no longer kick the seat. I’m terribly sorry that I didn’t think to unstrap her seat during take-off for your comfort.

But, when you got up to go to the bathroom, and I saw that you were pregnant, I just shook my head. So did the husband, because we were thinking, good luck to you, sister. Because, you know, the karma thing and all.

To the surfer dude who sat next to the husband on the trip home: I wish I could’ve sat next to you, since you were using both my favorite yellow-sized writing pad and my favorite pen and you pretty much wrote non-stop from the second you got on the plane until we landed. It looked like a screen play, and we so could’ve talked writing, dude. Or surfing, which would’ve come in like, totally handy for me.

And Jaq will be happy to know that I finally read Play Dead. I’d started it, but it creeped me out and I couldn’t bring myself to pick it up again. But Jaq was right – I loved it. I’ve loved all three of the Anne Fraiser books I’ve read, but I’m finding that the key is not to read any author’s books right in a row no matter how much I love the author.

Steph T.