Nothing In Between

The March

2017-01-22T08:32:00.000-05:00

Since we couldnt get close to the performances at the rally, we walked around people and sign watching until time for the official March. At one point Maggie Gyllenhaal was right next to us in the throng of people and later John Kerry went by (with security detail, of course - but he was definitely in the crowd).

We had to get to the Smithsonian where the March was to officially start. As we walked that way and 500,000 of our fellow marchers did too, the streets became so packed that officials had to barricade some side streets and entry points.

I never saw anything violent or contentious except for perhaps a few testy exchanges between anti-abortion activists who tried their hardest to prickle nerves. But whenever they did, the crowd simply didn't take the bait. It was too important a day...the message was too precious to ruin it by getting off-message through ugly confrontation and the resulting controversy that would certainly follow.

I remember being at the Smithsonian and then just moving with the throng of people. All those people. All those people! So very many people perfectly practicing democracy and doing it in a hopeful, peaceful and joyous way. And sometimes we chanted, "THIS IS WHAT DEMOCRACY LOOKS LIKE"!

The March route was supposed to be 2 miles long, ending at the White House. Somewhere after mile 1 think, organizers started rerouting people...there were just too many people to continue on the original route. They had everyone retreat from proximity of the White House, but it was all very respectfully and peacefully accomplished. But even though the March was over...the march wasn't over. It continued with people throughout all the streets, continuing to shout with their signs held high.

I was moved by people coming together to fight for women's rights, human rights, climate change, gender equality and so much more. But at the crux of it all, I believe we marched for one thing: basic human decency.

I saw middle aged ladies holding signs touting "Women's Rights are Human Rights". I saw young moms with babies, marching for their child's future. I saw old ladies - very old ladies - pushed in wheelchairs by their grandchildren. I saw brave physically-challenged people doing their very best to complete the March.
I saw lots of white men marching, one whose sign read, "I am a white male and I apologize for Donald Trump". I saw Muslims and Mexicans and African Americans and beautiful people of all colors and shapes, and, and, and I saw America.

I won't forget the day. I won't forget all the joy and hope and fear and anger. I won't forget the March.

The March is over. But the march isn't over.

Images

2017-01-21T23:58:00.000-05:00

Prelude to the March

2017-01-21T23:43:00.001-05:00

When we got off the bus this morning we sort of knew where we should go but there was a definite "follow the crowd" aspect to the whole day.

And there were crowds.

We headed to the National Museum of the American Indian for the rally. It was crazy to look around at all the people -- the diversity and positive energy was astounding. We never made it to a point where we could see the speakers and performers but it was okay; we were part of something big and it didn't matter.

Bathroom talk

2017-01-21T18:41:00.001-05:00

Finally back at the bus.

I am exhausted, empowered, enraged, and inspired.

I completely underestimated what it would take to get through the day. Because the march grew to unexpected proportions, it was difficult to find water and food and coffee (yikes!) and non-icky bathrooms. Oh! And about bathrooms - just take a look at that photo!

Our Children!

2017-01-21T11:16:00.001-05:00

Good Morning DC!

2017-01-21T10:01:00.001-05:00

Finally arriving in DC...the traffic is incredible. We stopped at a truck
stop a couple hours ago and there must have been 50 buses...the lines were
crazy. Still, it's an atmosphere of excitement, inclusion and love.

We're creeping through traffic...still on the bus...but even from within
we can feel the excitement in the air!

Marching on Washington

2017-01-21T01:40:00.001-05:00

First, let me address the elephant in the room. Six years since my last entry. Yep.

I've dusted off my little corner of the Internet to document my trip to the Women's March on Washington. I'd normally not do something like this...yes I support the cause, of course...but to actually go to march in a "protest" --- not so much. But my friend Bobbie asked me to join her...and well, 'nuff said. Bobbie.

500 women (and men), seven busses, and so much hope, anger, fear and love all wrapped up into wanting to do "something". Something to make a difference and to raise our voices for equality and respect. We just hit 70 East. This trip is gonna be wonderful.

Kim

2010-11-10T16:04:00.002-05:00

November getaway

2010-11-09T11:23:00.002-05:00

Went to Florida with John's sisters this past weekend for a little getaway.
Here is the view from the deck (uploaded from my Blackberry):

It was a little cold for November, so the beach was practically deserted. I like it that way!

It was a nice weekend, and I appreciated so much the chance to spend some time away with them. They have been so good to me, and honestly, they both treat me like I'm their real sister, not a sister-in-law.

It's been eleven years since I lost my real sister. It doesn't seem that long ago. She was in my dream recently; the first time I've dreamed of her since her accident. Some people think that when you dream of a loved one that has passed away, they are speaking to you.

I've thought and thought about that dream, but can't figure out what Linda was trying to say, if indeed she was speaking to me. Maybe she just wanted to say hello? In the dream, I was at a large party. I was young -- college age, I think. She was at the party, too, and came over to introduce me to her friend. The friend said, " Wow, you two look nothing alike! Your sister is so much bigger than you!"

This was always a joke between us. My sister (and my brother, too) was a little thing, tiny and petite. She wore size 0 jeans and she may have been 5 feet on tiptoe. I, on the other hand, am not tiny nor petite. She was small, dark skinned, and had poker-straight brown hair, and not a freckle on her skin. Again, so opposite of me! She used to introduce me as her "little" sister -- looking up at me, the height difference laughable...and people would get a kick out of the irony.

As I get older, I find that life is full of little ironies. After I lost both of my siblings, I was always comforted by the fact that I did have a far away half-sister that I never knew. I always dreamed of one day connecting with her on some level. Another lesson here to do the things you want to do -- you know, don't put off until tomorrow....

Kim was born when I was 11 or 12. My dad had moved to Texas and remarried a woman that I'll just say wore the "wicked step-mother" title with pride. Anwyay, I met Kim, my half-sister, when she was an infant, but never saw her after that. Things got complicated.

Early this year, I decided to reach out to her. I knew she was recently divorced and living with my Dad on his farm, in a little guest house on the property. I kept thinking about contacting her, but never did anything more than that.

On a Saturday in May (in a very cruel twist of fate or irony, or something deeper that I can't figure out), she was killed in a car accident on her way to her job at a veterinary hospital. My dad was devastated. The event freaked me out on so many levels. My dad has lost three of his four children -- one to cancer at age 40, and two to car accidents at ages 40 and 37. How does this happen?

When my brother Allen died, and then my sister Linda, I stuffed so many emotions and feelings about life and loss...I've blogged about that before. I know it's the worst possible thing you can do. But losing them and then my mom in such close succession just made that necessary.

But the funny thing is, now I'm grieving hard for Kim, this sister that I didn't even know. I am grieving the loss of what could have been and I am finally grieving my brother and my other sister -- because finally now, I realize there is nobody left for me to have that special connection with. I think that is what I am grieving.

Ah. Life is complicated and mysterious, and seems so unfair. But without the ironies and the hurts, there can be no joy and happiness. I know that is true.

That is why this trip to Florida with John's sisters was so nice. I miss my real sister and the other sister I never knew. But I'm happy to have these two sisters, too.

It's time to piss or get off the pot

2010-10-15T14:34:00.001-04:00

My grandfather was famous for his goofy sayings. When my husband first met him, he found the way my grandpa talked hilarious and charming. The sayings were just annoying and embarrasing to me, having heard them over and over throughout my life.

You make a better door than a window.
Is there a hole in the ceiling or did you leave the light on in there?
I guess it's better than a kick in the ass with a frozen boot.

And a thousand more.

He's been gone eight years now, and I still think of those dumb sayings.

A bunch of stuff has happened to me lately. Good stuff. Sad stuff. Crazy stuff. Nothing really dramatic, just the ebb and flow of life, I guess. But introspection has been plentiful. So when I (finally!) opened my blog to write today, I decided that I just need to get my shit together and WRITE. Forget about figuring out some wonderful tidbit to share with the world every day. Good grief, who do I think I am? I'm an forty-something (!) woman, with a house, kids and job, a husband that sometimes irritates the hell out of me, a grandma I have to figure out a way not to feel guilty about, too much weight, and not enough time to do everything I want to do.

Just like a lot of people I know.

Just like everyone else in this world. Trying to figure out a way to be happy and make a happy life for my children. I know that one thing that makes me happy is writing. And this blog is my vehicle. It's a small vehicle, but it's all mine.

So it's time to piss or get off the pot.

Mid July!

2010-07-19T14:07:00.002-04:00

Just finished a nice little book called Crow Lake by Mary Lawson.

It's an "old" book (2002), but I'm a bit behind in my reading...My ~~three~~ four boys (I'm counting John as one of my boys) house, full time job, grandma in nursing home, etc., etc., etc., prevent me from keeping up on my reading.

It's a somber story. Very well written. Insightful, engaging...sweet, sad, heartbreaking and inspiring all at once.

I think the actress in me always analyzes and tries to identify with characters in plays and books I read. There were many aspects of Kate's life (Kate is the protagonist and storyteller) that I identified with -- painfully so in many ways (not so much in others). And I could see parts of her personality that I really didn't like -- because I have those personality traits, too!

The story starts with a quote that foreshadows the story: "Tomorrow is forever, and years pass in no time at all." Maybe I just miss reading...but I couldn't put this one down.
=====
In other news...something exciting may be on the horizon theatre-wise. Keeping my fingers crossed.

Sunday Blues

2010-05-17T00:04:00.002-04:00

I've definitely got the Sunday blues this evening. I wish the weekend would last just a little bit longer. I'm not happy with my job so that makes Sunday evenings hard. I just don't want to start a new week.

Today was a little rough. When one of your kids struggles, you struggle too. I wish I could help my kids through all their problems -- actually I wish I could just make their problems disappear.

I spent most of the weekend on house projects...mainly painting the dining room...then that looked so good all of a sudden my french doors looked awful, so I painted them, too. Then the doors looked great but the brass hardware ala 1987 looked ridiculous.

Isn't that the way it always is with home improvements? One thing just leads to another and pretty soon a quick little project has turned into a major undertaking!

Many years ago I met a group of wonderful theatre people and we did some interesting experimental stuff down in the Short North -- before the Short North was a fashionable and hip place to go. I remember doing some poetry readings in several of the galleries there. One poem came to mind today -- out of nowhere; I don't know how or why, but today I thought of Howard Nemerov's "Storm Windows". There is something about this poem that I really like. Poetry is like artwork -- sometimes it speaks to you but you don't know why.

Storm Windows

People are putting up storm windows now,
Or were, this morning, until the heavy rain
Drove them indoors. So, coming home at noon,
I saw storm windows lying on the ground,
Frame-full of rain; through the water and glass
I saw the crushed grass, how it seemed to stream
Away in lines like seaweed on the tide
Or blades of wheat leaning under the wind.
The ripple and splash of rain on the blurred glass
Seemed that it briefly said, as I walked by,
Something that I should have liked to say to you,
Something . . .the dry grass bent under the pane
Brimful of bouncing water . . . something of
A swaying clarity which blindly echoes
This lonely afternoon of memories
And missed desires, while the wintry rain
(Unspeakable the distance in the mind!)
Runs on the standing windows and away.

Starting from scratch

2010-05-12T10:57:00.020-04:00

Baby steps. I'm taking baby steps.

A woman I know once wrote "Starting from scratch" as her Facebook status. I thought it was a mysterious yet very telling statement. For some reason, it resonated with me.

As I try to resume my blogging, I'll just take baby steps. If I could figure out how, I rename this entire blog, "Starting from scratch."

Photobucket took over!

2009-11-24T09:54:00.003-05:00

My account was inactive for 90 days, so Photobucket decided to take over? WTF? And I lost my wonderful Pixels by Pixie template!

Schadenfreude rules

2008-09-26T13:02:00.002-04:00

Happy Friday.
Yes, it's pathetic, but sometimes I just can't help myself. Schadenfreude rules, baby. Schadenfreude rules!

And then the lights went out

2008-09-23T23:02:00.003-04:00

As my friend Nancy says, 'Seven days without power is six and a half days too long".

Last Sunday, while the wind whipped the trees in our yard into dangerous contortions, we held our breath, hoping that one of those old trees wouldn't come down and land on the house.

And then the lights went out. It was fun for a minute or two. The kids gathered flashlights and candles and improvised a "survival kit." That evening, we played Sorry by candlelight and watched "Joe Dirt" on our portable DVD player. We had fun "roughing it", for a minute or two.

Then Monday came. The wind had wreaked havoc all over the city. Schools and businesses everywhere were closed. Generators endlessly growled throughout the neighborhood. It was an adventure, and it was sort of fun. For about a minute, maybe two.

By Monday evening the houses across the street had power. We were sure to be next. Monday turned to Tuesday, then Wednesday. There were still over a half-million people in central Ohio without power.

On Thursday we were told that there was a 95% chance our power would be restored by 11:59 p.m. Sunday evening. Sunday! Seven days after the storm. Seven days is way longer than a minute or two.

The laundry piled up. The carpet needed vacummed. The milk was sour. School was closed three days in a row. Every Gameboy and iPod in the house was out of battery, leaving the kids bored and cranky and completely on my nerves.

Sunday evening came, and power -- glorious power -- was restored. It was a long week. And it wasn't fun even for a minute or two.

How one knows she's getting old

2008-09-02T17:06:00.005-04:00

Today I realized that I've crossed over from "older gal" to "old lady."

Here's how I knew: upon getting dressed this morning, I realized that I am more frequently letting comfort win over style. On a regular basis, I'll know something looks bad or silly or utterly awful, yet I still wear it due to sheer comfort or practicality. I'm like the old lady who wears the plastic rain hat or the grandpa whose polyester slacks are too short.

I'm like the man on vacation who wears socks with his sandals on the beach. Black socks.

I've taken to wearing these litte peds with my loafers (peds are like the little socks at the shoe store you use when you are trying on shoes, only they're not disposeable).

These peds stick out, they're ugly, and they unmistakeably qualify me as an old lady.

But they are very comfortable and without them, my feet and shoes smell awful. Okay, so the shoes themselves aren't all that hip either but they've got great arch supports, and do you know what a flat sole does to my heel spurs? Heavens to Betsy!

Fall will bring you all that you want

2008-08-30T01:03:00.012-04:00

My friend Cyndy commented on my last post (and yes, I am well aware that post was in April).

Cyndy said, "Fall will bring you all that you want."

Well, it's Fall.

For the first time ever, I spent all summer at home with my kids. We did a whole lot of 'nuthin, and it was great. I especially enjoyed all of our lazy mornings sleeping in and my not having to be a drill seargent to get them all up, dressed, fed and on their way.

My youngest son went off to kindergarten this week; my middle son to 3rd grade, and my oldest son started high school. High school!

Back in February when I lost my job, I promised myself that I wasn't going to just jump into another company where I'd again end up a cog in the machine...in a job where I had no real pride or passion for what I was doing. I wanted to find something where I would feel I was making a difference, and ultimately doing something for the greater good.

And I meant it. But time wore on and my severance monies began to dwindle. I started to wonder if I was being unrealistic.

Throughout the summer I had a few leads. I went on some interviews. It was depressing. All I seemed to find were jobs in mega-corporations, writing the sort of stuff that wasn't really going to impact or change anyone's life.

I began to face facts: It's nice to have high aspirations for changing the world and all, but it's also nice to pay the mortgage.

And then, Fall.

The day before yesterday, on the very same day my kids went to school, I had two interviews. the first was for a company that outsources call center operations (read: ESL telemarketing) for large clients. The work would be documenting their processes and procedures so they can become compliant for security certifications. 'Nuff said.

The second interview was at Nationwide Children's Hospital in their Childhood Cancer Research Center. Without getting too metaphysical, let me just say that the moment I stepped out of the parking garage and into the lobby I knew that the job was exactly what I had been looking/hoping for. And then when I interviewed with the director, I was absolutely certain .

Long story short: within hours, both companies offered me a job. The job at the first company would be contract for six months and then they would hire me as a full time employee. The Children's job would be a short term contract with no guarantee of permanent employment. And it would pay quite a bit less than the other.

I start my new job at The Research Institute for Childhood Cancer at Nationwide Children’s Hospital on September 8th.

Cyndy was right about Fall.

Well, ONE of us has a job!

2008-04-26T23:32:00.003-04:00

And the good new is, it ain't me. (Yet.)

Woohoo!

Double Whammy Kick in the Ass

2008-04-16T02:02:00.000-04:00

Last month, I lost the job I've had for the past 11 years to "corporate downsizing". It was expected. The particular corporation I worked for has been downsizing for FIVE YEARS (I'm not even exaggerating -- which okay, I admit I do sometimes). I've made it through FIVE YEARS of Thursdays (they always do the slashing on Thursdays) of saying goodbye to friends and I've watched them pack up their stuff and do the proverbial "perp walk".

Only this time it was me. And I wasn't sad or surprised or even upset in the least. Really, I was ready. I had calculated how much money I'd get in my severance package and just how long I could push being unemployed before it started to cause issues with our finances at home. I figured I could squeeze out the summer with my kids and then start looking in the fall. Not too shabby.

My plan would have worked out perfectly had my husband - across town at the job he's had for the last eight years - not lost his job on THE VERY SAME EFFING DAY.

When I called to tell him, he paused for a moment before telling me his bad news. And right then, my thought process went all stream of conciousness and probably sounded something like this:

"This does not happen to normal people ... this is some serious bad luck .... crap, now I'm not going to get the attention and pity I deserve, because he's going to be all crybaby about losing his job and get drunk all weekend while I have to be the responsible one ... double crap, I'm now going to have to spend way too much freakin' quality time with my husband.

And then me, being all supportive and wifely and positive, pretty much shrieked at him, "YOU HAVE GOT TO BE FUCKING KIDDING ME."

After the initial shock wore off, we were able to see the humor in it. Right now I can't think of any of the hundreds of funny things we've found amusing about being in this situation, so you'll have to trust me on that. But hey, dual unemployment is funny.

It seems like we've been busy, but the day goes by so quickly -- much more quickly than it ever did at work. We're looking for jobs. John is coaching second-grade lacrosse. We went to Florida for Spring Break; spent a week at my sister-in-law's beach cottage (it was warm and sunny and the water was gorgeous). Yesterday, John power-washed our deck and today he cleaned the garage. Now, if I can get a TV cabinet built and a screen porch on our deck before he finds a job, I'll swear this setback was divine intervention.

John had two interviews this week and one looks especially positive. Keep your fingers crossed.
Good night.

"Writing"

2008-02-22T10:34:00.019-05:00

Found this photo on my new favorite blog.

The "Blog" of "Unnecessary" Quotation Marks seriously cracks me up. People send “pictures” of signs that use gratuitous quotation “marks” to hilarious “effect”.

----------------

I'm a blogger with the idea that I shouldn't post a blog entry unless I have
some deep, meaningful thing to say or unless I have a funny story to share. I abhor reading blogs that are just one incessant blah blah blah about pretty
much nothing but the excruciating minutae of the writer's day-to-day life. And when I say day-to-day, I really mean up-to-the-minute drivel about nothing. They ate spaghetti ... had to wait an extra 15 minutes at the dentist ... the Kitty piddled on the carpet again … and on and on. (I'm not referring to the blogs of anyone who regularly visits here.)

I've been reading Madeleine L'Engle. She wrote more than 45 books, but if you haven't read any of her works or if you just need a bit of inspiration, read Madeleine L'Engle Herself: Reflections on a Writing Life. Sometimes when you read a great writer's words about writing, you just want to forget writing altogether and take up ping-pong instead. But L'Engle makes you want to start writing immediately, and to write with more passion and dedication than ever before.

So, I think I realize now that there must be some sort of "in-between" amidst those daily regurgitation blogs and the type of posts I want to write. L'Engle has shown me that though I've felt in the past few months I haven't had anything worthwhile to say, in reality I've really had way too much to say.

"Inspiration usually comes during work, rather than before it." --Madeline L'Engle

Good Lord, it's December!

2007-12-12T02:04:00.000-05:00

I've been a bit out of sorts the past coulple of months. Haven't talked to my friends, haven't written in my blog (which is very much like talking to my friends), haven't even started to shop for Christmas. Is it December? What happened to November?

Everything is just a little off.

I've tried to put my finger on it. I've sort of tried to anyway -- but like everything lately, I tried half-heartedly. I've not done things I wanted to do, I've let friends get out of touch, I've missed out on auditions I had looked forward to and prepared for for months.

I never want to do anything. I have to make myself do everything, even fun things with my boys. Sometimes I can make myself get started and hope the desire will catch up to me.

To make a long and not-so-interesting story short (you can thank me later), things are still off kilter but I'm working on getting things back on track.

So here I am, trying to tell you all -- my blog friends -- that I'm back and ready to try again. It's funny, there are friends here in the blog-world whom I only know through blogging, but in some ways, I communicate more with them than my real-world ones. And since we tend to bare our souls a bit more --and way more indulgently-- here in the blog world, those ties are unbelieveably precious.

Some friends -- people like Gail and Cyndi and Mikey -- I've known for years and only wish that the business of life would allow us to spend more time together. But I know they're there and sometimes our blogs are our only constant connection. I love knowing that I can visit with them everyday or so through their blogs.

Others -- people like Jeremy and KC -- I don't really "know" in the traditional sense, but I feel I know intimately because of what they've shared in their blogs. I remember when I met Jeremy at an audition -- I just had to hug him because I felt I had known him forever; our blogs had established our "friendship".

I don't know what I mean to say tonight, other than that I've been "gone" from my blog, and "away" from my own life for awhile, too.

I'm coming back.

Friday Foto: 8th Grade Humor

2007-10-05T11:16:00.000-04:00

My 8th grade son changed the wallpaper on our computer to this:

I thought for sure it was an edited image until I checked the West Virginia Mountaineers roster. #92 is indeed Johnny Dingle and #93 truly is Scooter Berry .

It's immature and so 8th grade boy silly -- but you just go ahead and try not to laugh!

The big lie

2007-09-27T11:56:00.000-04:00

My husband is a little bit pissed at me. He tries to hide his irritation, but that's impossible for him, because you see, he's a big fat baby. And have I mentioned how needy he is? Geesh.

Now, I'm not one to go on about things (I'm really not), but he needs to take a tough pill and shut up already.

As wives go, I'd say I'm okay. I mean, I'm not the best looking gal out there, and I'm not always willing to drop everything to wash his socks or perform other wifely duties (if you know what I mean -- and I think you do), but I did BEAR HIS THREE CHILDREN, the last of which was WITHOUT AN EPIDURAL OR ANY MEDICATION OF ANY SORT because he just had to find a closer parking spot and stop in the gift shop for a pack of gum.

Why is he pissed at me? Why? You wanna know why?

Because I'm nice. People think I'm nice. Honest to God, that's what the man is cranky about.

He says our neighbors, the teachers, the principal, my theatre friends and the lady at Kroger all think I'm a nice person.

Oh, and his mother thinks I'm nice, too; and she thinks I'm the best thing that ever happened to him. And he's sick and tired of hearing about it.

See, I'm not always the nicest person in the world, and it's usually my husband who sees that not-so-nice side. But isn't that part of that whole "for better and for worse" thing?

It all came to a head last night.

His mother stopped over with a big casserole dish of macaroni and cheese -- at the precise moment husband was pouring himself a bowl of Life cereal. For dinner.

He used the opportunity to set his mother straight about me: "Do you see what a wonderful wife she is? Look, I'm eating cereal for dinner."

His mother replied with a lengthy dissertation about how hard I work and how difficult it is to keep a house, work full time, be a mother of three boys and still be expected to cook dinner every night. She finished her lecture with, "And you need to do more around here; she's a great mother and you are lucky to have somone so nice."

Right then, I think I saw a vein in his forehead I've never noticed in sixteen years of marriage.

Later, as I sat in bed attempting to read the newspaper in peace, he tried to extend an olive branch by starting a neutral conversation.

Husband: Did you see so-and-so at the soccer game?
Me: No, but I heard him.

Husband: Cheering for the kids?
Me: No, he was standing right behind me going on and on about all the events and activities they have to go to this week. Who the hell cares that their daughter is in ballet and it's at the same time as little Johnny's piano lesson, which ends just in time for karate? He just droned on and on throughout the entire game in that annoying voice of his about his exceptionally talented kids and their precious activities.

There was a lengthy pause.

Husband:

I wish all the people who are constantly telling me how sweet and nice my wife is could hear these things. I really do. You are not a nice person.

Me:

Nope.

After I finished the paper and turned off the light, he tried again.

Husband:

Hey. You tired?

Me:

A little.

Husband

Wanna talk?

Me:

Okay.

Husband

Mmmm.
Me: Hey! I thought we were going to talk!
Husband: Yeah, but I thought it would be nice to...
Me:

Yeah, well I'm not a nice person.
Husband:

Nope.

Friday Foto: Just sayin'.

2007-08-31T10:46:00.000-04:00

Just sayin'.

Happy long weekend, everyone!

For my friends heading to the OCTA (Ohio Community Theatre Alliance) conference: break a leg, and have fun.

I'll be thinking of you; can't wait to hear how it all turns out!