BH: 1060

At the Little Rock airport, way early. I’ve taken to rating airports by whether there are plugs in the waiting areas. There’s one here. Good airport.

Ah, home. Home is good. Home is not perfect, what with an unfinished library and a leaking roof on the outbuilding and cat pee on the bathroom floor because the cat box had not been scooped in awhile. But it’s home. It’s ours. It’s ours together, where we live and love and work and play and grow. It’s where our cats, happy to see us, are.

The flights were uneventful. I read and wrote. The four of us went to El Torito for dinner after we landed, because there’s one across the street from the airport. Raspberry margaritas are good, even if they seem to have no alcohol in them. I brought half of my chicken and sour cream enchiladas home to eat for breakfast tomorrow.

Shortly after we arrived home, Ken’s mom and her friend Marty showed up, so we chatted with them, and Ken and Marty discussed roof-fixing measures. Laundry is in, we’re pretty much unpacked. Now I’m tidying a bit and phutzing online, and Ken is re-discovering how cool the Internet is by making an itinerary of all the places we’re going to take Dave tomorrow on the Great Buffy and Angel Tour of the Greater Los Angeles Area. Yeah, that’s us, kinda geeky as we dive onto computers hours after arriving home.

I should mention that writing today went well. I was pretty tired and didn’t wanna, but I did anyway, and it flew along nicely. I also just started the next scene, so it’ll be easy to dive into tomorrow. Although over the past few days I haven’t hit my minimum goal to get the novel done, I’ve more than hit my daily minimum. I’ll need some high-production days to get the novel done by my self-imposed deadline, but I think that’s do-able.