I’m recovering.

This past week marked my third attendance at the DWF & ImagingUSA. I spent my first convention conservatively going to bed before 10pm as I was sharing a hotel room with my husband, who happened to be in Phoenix working. The second convention in Nashville found me up until almost midnight. And this year in San Antonio? While I didn’t see the sun come up, 4:30 am was the last thing I saw before I dozed off.

A particularly busy week preceded my departure before the convention so I unfortunately had to leave a few things up in the air back home. On Wednesday, I received the following email from my husband, Nathan:

“I hope this message finds you in good health.  I fear morale here has taken a turn for the worse.  Wifery is in dangerously low supply.  Today we ran out of tomato paste.  I tried to put a brave face on for the cats but they can see right through me.  Only time will tell if we can survive this drought and make it through to the other side.  For now I take solace in the quiet afforded me by their apparent lack of interest, but I fear the cats may secretly be plotting against me.  Their meows are polite, but forced…they sense I’m losing my grip over the home front.  If this message finds you safely, please return as soon as possible with provisions; I fear I may not last the week.  The cats look deceptively fat, but their appearance belies a secret hunger to usurp my authority and claim rights to the food supply.  I lost face with the tomato paste; I fear it’s only a matter of time until one of them makes a move.  Please make haste in your return with provisions.

Best wishes,

Ulysses”