I don't know, but J continues to burst forth with creativity. I like to think her love of art comes from me...
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
Where does inspiration come from?
I don't know, but J continues to burst forth with creativity. I like to think her love of art comes from me...
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
Personal insights
I now realize the reason I took on the organization of all my group projects in grad school is not because I enjoyed the combining and proofing of others' work, but instead it is because I am a control freak who is convinced I have the best approach to every problem to be solved.
Apparently I have not changed much in the last ten years. This is not a good thing. Must review with self...
Apparently I have not changed much in the last ten years. This is not a good thing. Must review with self...
Saturday, November 21, 2009
On a lighter note
I am having a festive, get-together-laden weekend. Last night: happy hour with neighbors that lasted til 10:30 ("Why limit happy to just an hour?"). Tonight: get-together with some of my favorite ladies for gnoshing and sipping out of the house. With no kids. Tomorrow: visiting a friend recovering from surgery, then walking through the Symphony of Lights with J.
Oh, yeah, and I'm doing some work for a deadline that (which?) has already passed, and have to run 10 miles today. But that's not going to take away my festive air!
Oh, yeah, and I'm doing some work for a deadline that (which?) has already passed, and have to run 10 miles today. But that's not going to take away my festive air!
Sunday, November 15, 2009
Throw me a rope
Nervous. Exposed brick walls. Original art. Foreign furniture, knick-knacks, smells. I sit. I struggle to keep my legs uncrossed. I grip my knees to hold still. Bells cling, swirling in a circle. His eyes are closed and a small, knowing smile plays at his mouth. I try not to laugh. This is ridiculous.
"You are very unsteady," he says. "You aren't trusting your intuition. Why is that?"
I am taken aback. Of course that is right, but I am not going to admit it. How does one answer a question like that anyway? "I don't know," I say.
He goes on to make observations both accurate and otherwise. My father sees that I am struggling and wants me to just move forward. He says that I keep wishing things will change, and every day I wake up and start the cycle over again. This second part, at least, I know is true. I hide. I make it through the day. I am worn out afterward and look forward to the oblivion of sleep. I find great happiness around me, but...
"Nothing you do brings you joy. What would bring you joy?" Again, a shrug. My mind reels. The feel of J. Running. Being with JBL. These are small outposts. Without them I swirl in...what? I shrug again. "I like to write," I reply softly.
Whether or not any of this is true, he has hit on pain points that are unique to me. Parts of myself that I look away from constantly. I keep my face intentionally blank. He continues.
"What are you afraid of? Is it money? You know money has always been there when you needed it." Also true.
"Is it him? He doesn't let you do what you want. You love adventure. He doesn't let you have adventure." The 'he' is presumably JBL, and on this point the Advisor is wildly off track. Do I tell him of my recent Christmas present - a trip to Tuscany? "No, he does not hold me back."
"But there is something there."
"Yeah. I guess. It's me."
He sits back, eyes narrowing, smile disappearing. "Ah."
I don't remember what he said for the next few minutes - I was so nervous in admitting to a complete stranger that I was holding myself apart from loved ones. From the most important person. I have an audio tape of the session, but I don't want to listen to it. I know we finished by talking about next steps - how to begin the process of moving forward. I silently cursed my friend who encouraged me to come. I thought it would be fun to prove the process wrong, to laugh about missed predictions and accurate platitudes. It was probably all still good reading of body language and cultural cues, but the whole thing was so spot-on, I felt vulnerable and shaky.
Walking out into the late-summer sun, I remember trying to decide if I would do anything with what I had just experienced. I did indeed chew on the insights for some time, sharing the observations with close friends, and even (for the most part) JBL. Then there was the tough transition when J left for Kindergarten, and the struggle to find the new normal.
Now I have a fluid routine and a set of priorities for the short term. I am aware I have the great luxury of time to figure out the next few years, and will actively create new goals and corresponding plans to achieve them. But I know I have still been hiding.
When I first met JBL I felt the shock of two huge feelings: that someone was seeing me for who I really am, down to the core, and that I liked the person they saw. I am sure that is what Big Love feels like for everyone, but this was off the charts. It's even too much to write about here. Over time, my sense of joy in my own skin dissipated (as it is wont to do), and I have been left with my natural levels of self appreciation, which I fear are sometimes unhealthy. But it's easy to look away, to live just a few inches below the surface. Isn't it? You can almost see things clearly, and no one really knows that you are under water. You almost look normal.
Then last week, JBL threw me a rope. He told me what he is giving me for my big 40th birthday, due next month: he is taking me hiking in the Grand Canyon (notice the term is 'hiking' rather than 'camping' - the former implies evidence of a 4-star hotel, rather than a tent outside in December - thank God), followed by a few days of spa and fun in Sedona. Something about this gift yanked me above water. I could see JBL clearly. I could see myself, somewhat more the person I wanted to be. Now the trick will be holding on to this feeling. Knowing that as the girls continue to grow, and as I continue to push myself in new and positive directions, I have the ability to stay here. More importantly I need to learn how to keep myself here, and not look away. I hope I can figure out how...
"You are very unsteady," he says. "You aren't trusting your intuition. Why is that?"
I am taken aback. Of course that is right, but I am not going to admit it. How does one answer a question like that anyway? "I don't know," I say.
He goes on to make observations both accurate and otherwise. My father sees that I am struggling and wants me to just move forward. He says that I keep wishing things will change, and every day I wake up and start the cycle over again. This second part, at least, I know is true. I hide. I make it through the day. I am worn out afterward and look forward to the oblivion of sleep. I find great happiness around me, but...
"Nothing you do brings you joy. What would bring you joy?" Again, a shrug. My mind reels. The feel of J. Running. Being with JBL. These are small outposts. Without them I swirl in...what? I shrug again. "I like to write," I reply softly.
Whether or not any of this is true, he has hit on pain points that are unique to me. Parts of myself that I look away from constantly. I keep my face intentionally blank. He continues.
"What are you afraid of? Is it money? You know money has always been there when you needed it." Also true.
"Is it him? He doesn't let you do what you want. You love adventure. He doesn't let you have adventure." The 'he' is presumably JBL, and on this point the Advisor is wildly off track. Do I tell him of my recent Christmas present - a trip to Tuscany? "No, he does not hold me back."
"But there is something there."
"Yeah. I guess. It's me."
He sits back, eyes narrowing, smile disappearing. "Ah."
I don't remember what he said for the next few minutes - I was so nervous in admitting to a complete stranger that I was holding myself apart from loved ones. From the most important person. I have an audio tape of the session, but I don't want to listen to it. I know we finished by talking about next steps - how to begin the process of moving forward. I silently cursed my friend who encouraged me to come. I thought it would be fun to prove the process wrong, to laugh about missed predictions and accurate platitudes. It was probably all still good reading of body language and cultural cues, but the whole thing was so spot-on, I felt vulnerable and shaky.
Walking out into the late-summer sun, I remember trying to decide if I would do anything with what I had just experienced. I did indeed chew on the insights for some time, sharing the observations with close friends, and even (for the most part) JBL. Then there was the tough transition when J left for Kindergarten, and the struggle to find the new normal.
Now I have a fluid routine and a set of priorities for the short term. I am aware I have the great luxury of time to figure out the next few years, and will actively create new goals and corresponding plans to achieve them. But I know I have still been hiding.
When I first met JBL I felt the shock of two huge feelings: that someone was seeing me for who I really am, down to the core, and that I liked the person they saw. I am sure that is what Big Love feels like for everyone, but this was off the charts. It's even too much to write about here. Over time, my sense of joy in my own skin dissipated (as it is wont to do), and I have been left with my natural levels of self appreciation, which I fear are sometimes unhealthy. But it's easy to look away, to live just a few inches below the surface. Isn't it? You can almost see things clearly, and no one really knows that you are under water. You almost look normal.
Then last week, JBL threw me a rope. He told me what he is giving me for my big 40th birthday, due next month: he is taking me hiking in the Grand Canyon (notice the term is 'hiking' rather than 'camping' - the former implies evidence of a 4-star hotel, rather than a tent outside in December - thank God), followed by a few days of spa and fun in Sedona. Something about this gift yanked me above water. I could see JBL clearly. I could see myself, somewhat more the person I wanted to be. Now the trick will be holding on to this feeling. Knowing that as the girls continue to grow, and as I continue to push myself in new and positive directions, I have the ability to stay here. More importantly I need to learn how to keep myself here, and not look away. I hope I can figure out how...
Thursday, November 12, 2009
French Bread
Say, hypothetically speaking, you have an afternoon at home. Maybe you already have soup going on the stove, or have lasagna in the freezer ready to be re-heated for dinner. You're doing laundry or some such. You just might think to yourself, "I wish I had some really good bread to go with dinner."
Well DING DING DING, have I got the bread for you! This recipe was ridiculously easy, requiring literally about 15-20 minutes of effort - assuming you have a standing mixer with a dough hook as I do - resulting in the most delicious-crusty-warm-fleshy bread I have ever made. (Truth be told, I have only ever made dessert breads and bread-machine breads, so it's sort of an apples-and-oranges comparison. But anyway.) You totally have to try this:
1 package dry active yeast
1 1/4 C warm water (105-115 degrees F)
1 1/2 tsp salt (add cracked pepper to taste if you want)
3 1/2C AP flour
1 TBSP olive oil
2 TBSP flour or cornmeal for the baking sheet
1 egg white
1 TBSP cold water
Dissolve yeast in warm water (give it a good stir to get it started) for about 5 minutes. In the bowl of your standing mixer, whisk together the salt and flour. Once the yeast mixture is ready, attach the dough hook and turn the mixer on low, adding about half the mixture. Drizzle in the tablespoon of oil, then add the remaining yeast mixture. The dough will be fairly dry compared to, say, pizza dough. I had to gather it together a bit with my hands. Not a big deal.
Let the machine knead the dough on medium for 15-20 minutes. That's right - just walk away from the machine and change over that laundry or whatever it is that you're doing. Just make sure to oil a bowl and find a warm, draft-free spot in your kitchen. After the kneading, turn the dough out into the bowl, roll it around until it's all covered in olive oil, cover the bowl with plastic wrap and set it in said warm area, and let the First Rise begin. Look for the dough to almost double in size - mine took about an hour and half. The timing is affected by temperature among other things.
After the first rise, punch down the dough and roll it out on a lightly floured surface into a 12 x 15 inch rectangle. Sprinkle your baking sheet with flour or cornmeal. Roll the dough up tightly, jelly-roll style, beginning with the long edge. Set the log seam-side down on the baking sheet, through a tea towel over it and put it back in the warm place, and walk away for another couple hours for the second rise. Now, you can muck with the shape a little - some prefer the more torpedo-narrow ends. It's your call. Oh, and I have heard not to use terry cloth when covering dough. I am not sure why. Anyway. Take this time to pick up the kids from school or exercise or whatnot. Look for the dough to be about 3/4ths the size of a regular loaf of bread.
Preheat the oven to 450 degrees F. Make four vent slices diagonally across the top of the loaf with a sharp knife, and pop it in the oven for 25 minutes. In the meantime, mix the egg whites and water together. After 25 minutes or so, brush the top of the loaf with the egg wash, then bake for 5-10 more minutes, or til Golden Brown and Delicious. Cool on a wire rack. Beat the family off the bread until you're good and ready to serve it.
Now find an excuse to make this. Go!
Well DING DING DING, have I got the bread for you! This recipe was ridiculously easy, requiring literally about 15-20 minutes of effort - assuming you have a standing mixer with a dough hook as I do - resulting in the most delicious-crusty-warm-fleshy bread I have ever made. (Truth be told, I have only ever made dessert breads and bread-machine breads, so it's sort of an apples-and-oranges comparison. But anyway.) You totally have to try this:
1 package dry active yeast
1 1/4 C warm water (105-115 degrees F)
1 1/2 tsp salt (add cracked pepper to taste if you want)
3 1/2C AP flour
1 TBSP olive oil
2 TBSP flour or cornmeal for the baking sheet
1 egg white
1 TBSP cold water
Dissolve yeast in warm water (give it a good stir to get it started) for about 5 minutes. In the bowl of your standing mixer, whisk together the salt and flour. Once the yeast mixture is ready, attach the dough hook and turn the mixer on low, adding about half the mixture. Drizzle in the tablespoon of oil, then add the remaining yeast mixture. The dough will be fairly dry compared to, say, pizza dough. I had to gather it together a bit with my hands. Not a big deal.
Let the machine knead the dough on medium for 15-20 minutes. That's right - just walk away from the machine and change over that laundry or whatever it is that you're doing. Just make sure to oil a bowl and find a warm, draft-free spot in your kitchen. After the kneading, turn the dough out into the bowl, roll it around until it's all covered in olive oil, cover the bowl with plastic wrap and set it in said warm area, and let the First Rise begin. Look for the dough to almost double in size - mine took about an hour and half. The timing is affected by temperature among other things.
After the first rise, punch down the dough and roll it out on a lightly floured surface into a 12 x 15 inch rectangle. Sprinkle your baking sheet with flour or cornmeal. Roll the dough up tightly, jelly-roll style, beginning with the long edge. Set the log seam-side down on the baking sheet, through a tea towel over it and put it back in the warm place, and walk away for another couple hours for the second rise. Now, you can muck with the shape a little - some prefer the more torpedo-narrow ends. It's your call. Oh, and I have heard not to use terry cloth when covering dough. I am not sure why. Anyway. Take this time to pick up the kids from school or exercise or whatnot. Look for the dough to be about 3/4ths the size of a regular loaf of bread.
Preheat the oven to 450 degrees F. Make four vent slices diagonally across the top of the loaf with a sharp knife, and pop it in the oven for 25 minutes. In the meantime, mix the egg whites and water together. After 25 minutes or so, brush the top of the loaf with the egg wash, then bake for 5-10 more minutes, or til Golden Brown and Delicious. Cool on a wire rack. Beat the family off the bread until you're good and ready to serve it.
Now find an excuse to make this. Go!
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
Sad
Add my name to the list of moms who raid their kids' Halloween Candy. What is the acceptable period of time after which the candy can mysteriously disappear (to Daddy's office or wherever)?
Sour apple Blow-Pop. Just not as satisfying as I thought it was going to be.
Sour apple Blow-Pop. Just not as satisfying as I thought it was going to be.
Monday, November 9, 2009
J Insights
Heard in the back seat today:
(Driving past Executive Park Drive.) "Mommy, the people who work in these office buildings are so lucky! They can eat at Chick-fil-A WHENEVER THEY WANT TO!"
(Seeing a 40 MPH speed limit sign.) "Hey! Daddy's for....oh, wait. He's 41 now. Wow, it seems like he was 40 just yesterday!"
Updated: "Mommy, I am going to put a lid on my cup so it won't spill."
"Babe, you are both wise and prescient."
"I'm wise beyond my ears!"
(Driving past Executive Park Drive.) "Mommy, the people who work in these office buildings are so lucky! They can eat at Chick-fil-A WHENEVER THEY WANT TO!"
(Seeing a 40 MPH speed limit sign.) "Hey! Daddy's for....oh, wait. He's 41 now. Wow, it seems like he was 40 just yesterday!"
Updated: "Mommy, I am going to put a lid on my cup so it won't spill."
"Babe, you are both wise and prescient."
"I'm wise beyond my ears!"
Friday, November 6, 2009
I'm in love with fall. At least for the moment. True, my ardor is normally reserved for months where life is effusive and promising, but the whisper of change in the air these days has me enthralled.
I wake in the morning to see the green, green grass dusted with frost. As the sunlight spills over the horizon, the protected hollows gather up a subtle mist that clings to the dried flowers and cattails, the discarded leaves of maple and ash. The tree tops hold on to a smattering of leaves that brightly wave in the breeze - a bittersweet parting gesture to help me forget the months of gray and brown that await.
Some plants still flourish. The lavender continues pushing up happy purple sprigs, the parsley revels in the chilly overnights, and the allyssum flowers still proudly hug the ground in blatant disregard of the freezes that have come and gone over the past several weeks. A lone iris blooms like the one child in the family who can't sleep.
The air is cool and damp, and smells of decay and woodsmoke. No birdsong mars the silence, nor muffles the melancholy cry of the trains who call from several miles away, snaking their way to points West. Stratus clouds sit dark and brooding against a blue sky scrubbed clean by recent showers, their tops lit by the sunlight in the season's haze-free atmosphere. The sun still feels warm on my face, and the breeze has not yet taken on winter's icy bite.
November is the month of change - like it's vernal counterpart, May. It begins with as many comfortable days as not. It ends like the brisk season we are about to endure. It whispers to me to make warm bubbling dinners that simmer for hours on the stove top. It makes me consider bundled-up bike rides followed by apple cider or hot chocolate. It inspires treasure hunts where the goal is the happiest collection of acorns, or the one perfect fall leaf.
The real treasure is the end of the day, where the early-darkening evenings bring everyone indoors, around the fireplace, snuggling close. There are smiles and card games and music. We are warmed by the fire although the cool house still prompts sweatshirts and soft socks. We have not yet pulled out the space heaters, but layer on thick down comforters when we tuck the girls into bed. They are still covered and curled up around their stuffed companions when we kiss them at our bedtime, rather than splayed wide and uncovered, as we often find them in summer.
Thank you, fall, for your quiet joys and glimpses of fleeting beauty. Thank you for the opportunity to look for new kinds of happiness, and for encouraging us to enjoy the moment rather than worry about the cold to come. We are blessed.
I wake in the morning to see the green, green grass dusted with frost. As the sunlight spills over the horizon, the protected hollows gather up a subtle mist that clings to the dried flowers and cattails, the discarded leaves of maple and ash. The tree tops hold on to a smattering of leaves that brightly wave in the breeze - a bittersweet parting gesture to help me forget the months of gray and brown that await.
Some plants still flourish. The lavender continues pushing up happy purple sprigs, the parsley revels in the chilly overnights, and the allyssum flowers still proudly hug the ground in blatant disregard of the freezes that have come and gone over the past several weeks. A lone iris blooms like the one child in the family who can't sleep.
The air is cool and damp, and smells of decay and woodsmoke. No birdsong mars the silence, nor muffles the melancholy cry of the trains who call from several miles away, snaking their way to points West. Stratus clouds sit dark and brooding against a blue sky scrubbed clean by recent showers, their tops lit by the sunlight in the season's haze-free atmosphere. The sun still feels warm on my face, and the breeze has not yet taken on winter's icy bite.
November is the month of change - like it's vernal counterpart, May. It begins with as many comfortable days as not. It ends like the brisk season we are about to endure. It whispers to me to make warm bubbling dinners that simmer for hours on the stove top. It makes me consider bundled-up bike rides followed by apple cider or hot chocolate. It inspires treasure hunts where the goal is the happiest collection of acorns, or the one perfect fall leaf.
The real treasure is the end of the day, where the early-darkening evenings bring everyone indoors, around the fireplace, snuggling close. There are smiles and card games and music. We are warmed by the fire although the cool house still prompts sweatshirts and soft socks. We have not yet pulled out the space heaters, but layer on thick down comforters when we tuck the girls into bed. They are still covered and curled up around their stuffed companions when we kiss them at our bedtime, rather than splayed wide and uncovered, as we often find them in summer.
Thank you, fall, for your quiet joys and glimpses of fleeting beauty. Thank you for the opportunity to look for new kinds of happiness, and for encouraging us to enjoy the moment rather than worry about the cold to come. We are blessed.
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
Along for the ride
I'm about to head out for another class with my friend Kavita (the last one being the kickboxing class where I might have killed a puppy when asked). This time it's Bikram yoga, also known as 'hot' yoga.
Now, I've been practicing yoga off-and-on for ten years, and I can tell you a few things:
- I'm no more flexible now than when I started
- I get 'it' about the focus and the breathing, but I still struggle with 'it' every time
- I still love yoga because I truly come away from each session feeling refreshed in mind and body
No joke. That same feeling you have when you've been away for a long weekend and have temporarily forgotten your worries - that's what I have after yoga. It's a lot easier on the wallet and waistline, too. I can switch it up and do any number of videos or classes to get different types of challenges. I can do it outside on my patio, in my family room, or in a class full of happy acquaintances. Unlike with running, I never think at the beginning of a 90-minute practice that I can't wait to just be done already.
But of course, that is all thanks to regular yoga. Hot yoga is a different matter. The same 26 poses everywhere no matter the studio or teacher. Temperature in the studio must be 105 degrees Fahrenheit, with 40% humidity. You are encouraged to simply make it through the class without passing out/having to leave the room. Heh-heh. Yeah.
This is so Kavita. She is the most type A person I have ever met. If she's going to run, she's going to do a marathon. If she's running the NYC marathon (as she did this past weekend), she is using it as a training run for Boston. If she's taking a class at the gym, she's going to find the toughest instructor. If she's doing yoga, then goddamn it, it's going to be Bikram.
I have no idea why Kavita is drawn to me, or ropes me into her adventures, but I'm somewhat flattered, I have to say. I tend to be the most reserved and cautious person in the room. Maybe she is fooled by my loquacious and busy tendencies. Maybe she heard rumors that I am a better athlete than I am. In any event, I am happy to be along for the ride. I just hope I don't pass out today...
Updated: I did not pass out, but felt like it at several points. I'm going to try it one more time next week to give Bikram a 'fair shake'. Phew! I need some water...
Now, I've been practicing yoga off-and-on for ten years, and I can tell you a few things:
- I'm no more flexible now than when I started
- I get 'it' about the focus and the breathing, but I still struggle with 'it' every time
- I still love yoga because I truly come away from each session feeling refreshed in mind and body
No joke. That same feeling you have when you've been away for a long weekend and have temporarily forgotten your worries - that's what I have after yoga. It's a lot easier on the wallet and waistline, too. I can switch it up and do any number of videos or classes to get different types of challenges. I can do it outside on my patio, in my family room, or in a class full of happy acquaintances. Unlike with running, I never think at the beginning of a 90-minute practice that I can't wait to just be done already.
But of course, that is all thanks to regular yoga. Hot yoga is a different matter. The same 26 poses everywhere no matter the studio or teacher. Temperature in the studio must be 105 degrees Fahrenheit, with 40% humidity. You are encouraged to simply make it through the class without passing out/having to leave the room. Heh-heh. Yeah.
This is so Kavita. She is the most type A person I have ever met. If she's going to run, she's going to do a marathon. If she's running the NYC marathon (as she did this past weekend), she is using it as a training run for Boston. If she's taking a class at the gym, she's going to find the toughest instructor. If she's doing yoga, then goddamn it, it's going to be Bikram.
I have no idea why Kavita is drawn to me, or ropes me into her adventures, but I'm somewhat flattered, I have to say. I tend to be the most reserved and cautious person in the room. Maybe she is fooled by my loquacious and busy tendencies. Maybe she heard rumors that I am a better athlete than I am. In any event, I am happy to be along for the ride. I just hope I don't pass out today...
Updated: I did not pass out, but felt like it at several points. I'm going to try it one more time next week to give Bikram a 'fair shake'. Phew! I need some water...
Monday, November 2, 2009
Knock on wood
J is home sick today but is not really sick. She was only sick through yesterday, but the school has the 24-hour-fever-free rule, so... I don't mind. It's nice to force one more nap on her, especially considering she still has little appetite. It's also nice to snuggle with her whenever I want to.
The liquid-y cough she's had for weeks is really starting to make me uneasy, though. Friends recommended a humidifier at night, and allergy medicine. Once she's back to normal, I will start one or both of these approaches. Ain't no way I'm taking her to a doctor's office with The Flu going around. All she had yesterday was a low-grade fever (100-ish) and a case of the droops.
On an unrelated note, I am making serious headway in addressing my OCD Issue. What has it been - 2 months now? Maybe not even that long. The activity has pretty well stopped, but I still think about it. I still feel like doing it. It's hard, and makes me realize how far I had let it go. How encompassing it had become. I am praying for my resolve to continue. I am thinking of treating myself to a facial if I can hold out through the holidays.
Of course, I am waiting to see what JBL has planned, if anything, for my big 4-oh! It's coming ever-closer, but I still feel ok about it. I'll feel even better if I get a big fun surprise or something!
The liquid-y cough she's had for weeks is really starting to make me uneasy, though. Friends recommended a humidifier at night, and allergy medicine. Once she's back to normal, I will start one or both of these approaches. Ain't no way I'm taking her to a doctor's office with The Flu going around. All she had yesterday was a low-grade fever (100-ish) and a case of the droops.
On an unrelated note, I am making serious headway in addressing my OCD Issue. What has it been - 2 months now? Maybe not even that long. The activity has pretty well stopped, but I still think about it. I still feel like doing it. It's hard, and makes me realize how far I had let it go. How encompassing it had become. I am praying for my resolve to continue. I am thinking of treating myself to a facial if I can hold out through the holidays.
Of course, I am waiting to see what JBL has planned, if anything, for my big 4-oh! It's coming ever-closer, but I still feel ok about it. I'll feel even better if I get a big fun surprise or something!
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