Hi, I’m just in from Phoenix. It’s almost midnight Eastern time and I’m munching on french fries because the $5 airplane snack box didn’t quite cut it for dinner tonight. Well, I’m typing now; the fries are over there even though you can’t see where ‘there’ is.
My trip was good. I had a fun visit with my friend and her family. It was so nice to see her and to get a chance to talk-talk over dinner, just the 2 of us. Strangely enough, I had a great night’s sleep in their cave-like guest room with the triplets and her son in rooms across the hall. Go figure. And bless them all, there’s a lot of love in that house, but it is busier than most (yes, even yours and mine) — I think Linda has so much Diet Mountain Dew pumping through her veins just to get through her days she’ll need a year to detox after the kids go to college.
After my visit I went to my business conference, where I worked, mingled, ate and smiled a lot. In between meetings and during free time Tuesday afternoon (i.e., when the golfers went out to talk business and cement relationships over 18 holes – uh huh), I edited at least 50 pages of my manuscript and drafted my query letter. And today I sketched out the story for my next book. (That may have been during part of a Q&A session, but still.) I’m telling ya – travel seems to kick my writing muse in the pants. Maybe I should set up a security checkpoint and sit pressed against sweaty mannequins in an uncomfortable seat while I type to simulate the effect at home?
Anyhoo, I’m gearing up to go back into the office, two nights with the kiddies, and then going back on the road for an overnight jaunt to NYC on Saturday. More to come on that. The fries are getting cold and I need to get some sleep…but first, I thought you’d like to read one of my favorite emails waiting in my inbox for me.
What’s up [Interesting approach in using such an informal greeting to try and bond with me, cement our relationship…]
Your new, bigger penis is only 5-6 mths away [I guess not much was ‘up’ after all]
Sorry, in order for me to meet my numbers by year-end, I need one in 90 days. But take me to play Oakmont. We’ll work something out.
Editor’s Note: I don’t play golf and even if I did, you wouldn’t want me on a golf course with you or your loved ones. Arming an uncoordinated person with an iron — or a wood — club (hell, the tees, too) is not smart. You have been warned.