Sam's first Thanksgiving

The holiday is over, and tomorrow morning brings with it the grind. Nearly 9 a.m. on Sunday morning now, and Beth and the Samster are still sleeping; Beth is entitled, since her cold had her up more than half the night, with the coughing and sneezing and blowing of nose. We fear Sam might soon have his first real cold.

Sam, by the way, was essentially a treat for the holiday. On the first flight, despite some fusses and musses and complications, things certainly could have been worse. And the return flight! My goodness. We could not have asked for better. He announced his presence as we boarded, and I'm sure most of the passengers we passed* were thinking, Oh, lord. Here we go. This should be good. But they had nothing to worry about. Because after he ate a little, he drifted off and barely opened his eyes or made the slightest peep until we were in the MSP terminal.

Beyond the flights, Sam's east coast debut was a smash, and he out-cuted every other baby in the Tri-State area, I'm certain. Of course, it was also very nice to introduce Sam to many of our friends back east, and we're looking forward to our January/SCBWI** trip so he can meet those he missed.

On other matters, Looking for Alaska is not the great achievement its follow-up is, but it's still good, and I will probably finish it with pleasure. I haven't written anything in a week or so, which sucks, and the writing I do over the next few days will be exclusively contract work, which means the YA MS is on hold for a few more days.

*A short note about the passengers on our return flight. There were four distinct groups: Our little family, another young family in the back of the plane, a huge group of nuns, and a HUGE group of the Long Island NRA. It was a little weird. But take note: if you see a little baby during boarding, and he's a little fussy, remember that a big group of gun fanatics is way more annoying. They march up and down the aisle, shouting at each other and passing magazines like "Outdoor Living" and "Rack" over your head, frequently threatening to wake the aforementioned little baby. And nuns, well, some of them are very old and probably shouldn't be flying, and they might pass out and need an oxygen mask and cause a small panic, including an over-PA request like, "Is there a doctor onboard?" and a stout priest leaving his luxurious first-class seat to come check on his ailing "sister."

**Why is the Winter Conference in New York City? Shouldn't that one be Cali or Miami?