Lynette Bishop Snell

Four days, two airplanes and one head cold later, the prodigal author has returned to the comforting flock of her supportive family.  Her homecoming was greeted with wails and jubilant cries.

Well, actually, as I was walking in the door, my son annoyed my daughter who then hauled off and punched my son.  The ensuing wails coincided with my entrance and all I heard was “She hit me!”  “He said shut up!”  and they both went directly to their rooms, presumably to lick their wounds.

Welcome home, mom. 

For a brief moment, I was tempted to turn tail and rush back to the airport.  Surely the long security lines and overworked TSA Agents were preferable to screaming children.  But the loving arms of my wonderful husband enveloped me and he said, “I’M glad you’re home.  I missed you.”

Of course he missed me.  Who wouldn’t miss The Mom when piercing cries were still showering down from above?

But soon, the wails subsided and the errant children came and sheepishly said sweet things like, “Mom, I’m glad you’re home. My brother is mean.”  Visions of joyful reunions and happy homecomings continued to pop and burst in my mind, like bubbles out of a bubble maker.  At least the dog had not left my side and was following me around, tongue hanging out, matching my every step.  He at least was grateful for my return.  He had no ulterior motives other than to lick my face and shower me with bad doggie breath. 

But what, you say, about the conference?

In a word, fantastic.  I not only learned vast amounts of ways to improve my craft, but I also got to spend the whole weekend with my dear friend and critique partner, Rita.  We had a great time together and enjoyed the chance to meet lots of people.  If I had taken my camera, you would see exactly who we hobnobbed with, but since I didn’t, alas, you will have to take my word for it.

I also had 2 separate editors/publishing houses request a proposal for my WIP (work in progress):  The Bridal Party Series.  I am frantically working to finish the manuscript so I can frantically work to create a proposal.  Then I must find someone who is published and willing (for a fee, of course) to review the proposal and clean it up, make it tight, and put a pretty bow on it, with a piece of chocolate, for apparently the way to an editor’s heart is through chocolate (although I’m still not sure why, exactly).

In the meantime, the children have finally stopped punishing me for being gone and have given me the (belated) joyful reunion I so longed for, complete with multiple hugs and kisses and “I missed you so much” comments.  My husband has cooked dinner every night since I’ve been home.  Need I say more?

A resounding, collective sigh of relief has settled over this house.  She’s back, they all say with smiles as they drift off to sleep.  And she looks them over, lovingly and tenderly before dragging herself off like a slave to the computer. 

She’s back, indeed.