We're at the end of our vacation. It's certainly been eventful. Our family has skied here in Vail, Colorado, ten of the last eleven spring breaks. So far, no one in our foursome has needed any type of medical attention on this annual trek. 

This year, Shef brought a pal to keep him company on the treacherous and adventurous runs none of the rest of us will do. Well, his poor friend and bosom companion first developed altitude sickness and then broke his wrist. Can you even believe that?! To make matters worse, the wrist required surgery. Really bad luck for our treasured visitor! His parents must wonder what the heck we're up to out here, but I swear, it's not a regular thing.

In other news unrelated to traumatic injury, I signed with a literary agent. It feels rather surreal just typing that. In case you don't know, if you want to have a book traditionally (rather than self-) published, you need to have a literary agent who sells your manuscript to an editor at a publishing house. 

You get a literary agent by writing and sending a query letter. The goal of the letter is to inspire agents to request more pages of your book to read. If an agent reads your book and loves it, she might offer to represent you. In case you're interested in the data, here it is: I sent twelve queries in the past three months, tweaking the letter and the first pages of my book a little over time. Of those twelve, four agents requested more pages. And two of those offered to represent me. I picked one dream agent, Joanna MacKenzie at Nelson Literary, last Friday on my 40th birthday.

So, I guess in relation to my post title today, it's over, but it's really just beginning. Except for Shef's friend's wrist situation. I hope his pain and suffering are indeed reaching a natural, peaceful conclusion.