I'm here in sunny Houston, where it was the same temperature yesterday as in Boston. So much for a warm winter getaway! But it's a toasty feeling, basking in Kathleen and Freddy's hospitality in their spacious, gracious home.
Abby did wonderfully well on the trip. She listened to a couple of CDs, read books, and played ponies and Polly Pocket on the plane. She handled the airport, the people, the delay and everything else with aplomb. When the lovely gentleman who sat in our row commented on how well she did, it was all I could do to hold back from telling him, "and she has autism, too!" But I realized that he didn't know, couldn't tell, never would have guessed, and I didn't have to clue him in. A delicious feeling, to have a secret like that, and the luxury of keeping it.
Kathleen, Freddy and I went out to dinner last night, and left the kids with one of their regular babysitters, and again, Abby did great. I'm really proud of her.
I'm writing a piece with a deadline of Monday, and wasn't looking forward to working on it here. But I decided to get up early to write, as is my habit at home, and discovered I love it just as much on vacation as I do in real life. Mornings with coffee and words -- it doesn't get any better than that. Except when someone else makes the chocolate chip pancakes, for a change, and I get to eat them while they're still hot!
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