First – for those who haven’t heard – let me announce that my sister successfully defended her dissertation yesterday. Hooray! I was so proud, I almost cried. In fact, her committee members who were present (instead of teleconferencing in) – big manly men – they almost cried, too. Good times.

Now we are off to take long walks, do touristy things like take pictures of significant historical landmarks, and do lots of things that remind me of home – like stop at Dunkin’ Donuts for the 10,088th time. (Love me some Dunkin’. Why can’t they move into DFW? WHY?) I would post the pictures for you all, but someone forgot to pack my camera upload cord thingy. (Technical term, that is.) But there will be pictures to come. I promise.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I am going to go crunch through some leaves.

We are off, right now, at Kim’s dissertation defense. Wish us luck! Kim, because – well, the obvious. Me, because she has banned me from all manner of things. I’m not allowed to: yell at the committee members, cry, laugh, make eye contact, make funny faces, make any sudden movements, or a whole host of other things. I finally told her she had to choose one thing. She chose sock puppets.

(Otherwise entitled: Well then. We knew it would be something.)

My day started out (sort of) with me remembering what it was I forgot – to pay daycare. So. Oops. At least I remembered. Then again, that wasn’t until I was already at ThePlaceThatShallNotBeNamed. I called daycare and made arrangements to drop off the check on Friday without any late charges. Now all I have to do is not lose the check. And, hey, maybe not using a $1000 check as a bookmark would be a good start.

Of course, that hasn’t been the end of my excitement. Oh, no. After that came the small matter of shutting down the city of Philadelphia. Seriously. I was walking back to my desk and my friend stopped me to ask if I’d heard that all public transit in Philadelphia was shut down.

Me: “…”

Because the transit workers went on strike at midnight.

Me again: “…”

Yeah, Kim doesn’t have a car. She doesn’t have her license. She uses – wait for it – the buses and trains and subways. Look, I am very sympathetic and supportive of unions. I support them and their causes. But did they have to shut down Philadelphia on the day of my debut? Especially when I’m scheduled to arrive at 5 p.m., the middle of rush hour?! Thankfully, my sister stepped out of her shower when I rang her up a bit panicked. She laughed and asked how I had found out. My reaction: “…!” To which she further explained that, as bizarre as it seems, her SEPTA system is somehow separate. We might have to elbow our way through the million-plus people who will be looking for alternative transportation (we did), but at least I won’t be stranded at the airport and at least she won’t make us sleep at the defense site.

After that, it seemed that I caught a break. Thank god. I had forgotten what it was like to travel alone. The last time I’ve gone off on my own was…let me count…eight years ago. I flew up to Massachusetts to pick out a wedding photographer and shop for bridesmaids’ dresses. I kinda dug the whole living-only-for-myself thing. I got to pee without stuffing so many people and bags into one tiny stall with such ease that even a clown would have been jealous of my mad skillz. I ate without once reminding someone to finish eating or to sit still. I got to relax in an airport recliner and delete over 125 old text messages while I waited for my flight. (I am a party animal.) I even – this was nice – spoke to two hotties I had been discretely eyeballing. They were standing behind me on the jetbridge, discussing the books they were reading. The one hottie I’d noticed especially happened to be reading a book I had read several times before. We talked for awhile. He even went out of his way to ask if I had read some other books by the same author. I looked for the two of them once we landed, but never saw them.

So. Yes, I’ve made it to Philadelphia and (after two hours due to the stupid strike) back to Kim’s Retreat. We’re all geared up for her defense tomorrow morning. Wish us luck! I’m feeling confident. Adventurefull. And, strangely, in need of a Phillies cap.

Three more hours until I leave for the airport.

Five more hours until my flight leaves.

Eight (and a half) more hours until I take over Philadelphia.

Excited? Who – me?

Now I’m paranoid. Surely, I forgot something. Packing can’t be as easy as all that. I mean, I did it. I’m done. Of course, I have yet to…

[GLOVES! AND A SCARF!]

…Sorry about that. I was saying, I have yet to actually put the one piece of luggage I’m taking into the car. So. There’s a chance I’ll forget it.

[OH! And CARDS! I should take cards! And I have to pack my journal. You know, for blog ideas since I'm not taking my laptop. And maybe some snacks.]

And there’s always the possibility that I’ll forget to bring my change of clothes that I’m changing into before I leave work. Or that I’ll forget to put my winter coat into the car (or take it with me). Or that I’ll forget my makeup. And I’m nervous about only taking one pair of shoes. What if they break? Or…something.

Worrying aside, packing was deceptively easy. Only being gone for three-and-a-half days helps. Not having to pack for two little girlies helps tremendously. I mean, this way, I might actually get to the books or the Boggle print outs I’m taking with me. (I’m a geek – go ahead and say it.)

So. I think this is it. Once I stop obsessing over the contents of my VERY SMALL piece of luggage, I know I am going to freak the heck out with excitement! Okay, really, that will commence once we land and I’m okay. Fear of flying and all.

Philadelphia, here I come!!

Post? Yoohoo….post? Huh. Guess it ran off. Or…possibly…it might be thatIforgottowriteone. (Shhhhhh.)

See, I’m flying to Philadelphia tomorrow to watch my sister defend her doctoral dissertation, and between that, Halloween, and the splitting headache I could not shake yesterday, everything else has just fallen down dead or blithely ran along its path without me. (Can you believe the sun has the nerve to keep on rising and setting without my interference? I had no idea!) Needless to say, there is a house to clean, bags to pack, bills to pay (CRAP! BILLS TO PAY!), work projects (those I actually do have to get to) to be finished or tidied up for the week, instructions to be written for childcare, etc., etc.

So, if you could find it in your hearts to forgive me (notice I didn’t say ‘live without me for a few days’), I promise there will be Halloween recaps and travel posts abound. Just let me catch my breath…and maybe pay the mortgage so there’s stuff to come back to!

Happy Halloween, everyone! Stories and mayhem to follow, I’m sure.

Laura Ingalls and Princess Bee

*Let’s just pretend I remembered to hit “Publish” before I dashed out the door with two eager little trick-or-treaters and a reluctant Ex, mkay?

It’s been a while since I’ve done one of these. But it’s been a long week and all of the blog ideas I’ve had are looooong drawn out affairs that require things like…oh…thinking. If Question require thinking, but of a different kind. They’re a fun little respite for me, sort of like a crossword puzzle or soduku puzzle I’ll dash off before bedtime. So, when I got home tonight, I pulled out my book of If Questions, found my bookmark and looked up our next If Question:

If you could choose one characteristic your mate must absolutely have, what would you choose?

Without even thinking, the first answer I thought of was a sense of humor. Then I went with talkative, because I have been with silent partners and – dude – they are not fun. I mean, I can talk a lot (shush! you there in the back), but I’m not really a “space-filler” kind of talker. I need someone to play off of. Still, a good conversationalist is important, but not my most desired quality. From there I thought, well, you need wit to hold a great conversation. Surely someone who is witty and intelligent would be a must-have. And this is true - really, really true – but I don’t necessarily want someone who would be smart, but in a really dry, rectangle-head sort of way. I thought of handsome (just for the fun of those momentary daydreams), kind, imaginative, a music-craver, creative, giving…and really, I just kept coming back to funny. I really do need that sense of humor. The way I see it, you’re guaranteed to hit some pretty crappy times in your life. You’ll face challenges. Soul-sucking choices. Lord knows dealing with kids is enough all on its own to make you want to stick a spork in your eye at least once a week. A mate with a sense of humor? That’s the kind of person you want holding your hand (if only to remind you that you shouldn’t kill the kids because they don’t let you drink in jail). I need lots of things in a mate, but the way to my heart is through my funny bone. (Someone who can also put up with my off-key singing wouldn’t hurt, though.)

You are not going to believe what just happened to me. I was sitting here, working on a completely different blog post, and I was sort of thinking about things (as I am wont to do) that have been on my mind lately. Projects at ThePlaceThatShallNotBeNamed, the weather, projects I need to work on this weekend, and things like going out on dates.

See, my Insignificant Other and I have been talking about me finding a babysitter so that we could go out a little more often. (Which, really wouldn’t be hard because we haven’t gone out at all lately.) Finding a babysitter is an entirely different post, but my mind soon wandered from who I could pimp for some recommendations to where exactly I would go on a date. From there, my mind went to where I would go to dinner tomorrow, because I was considering the possibility of taking some comp time and leaving a little early. If I did that, we wouldn’t need a babysitter since the girls are going to their dad’s tomorrow night for dinner. So, theoretically, I could leave early and meet my IO for an early dinner. Since I’d have to be back at my house by 7 p.m. to meet the girls, we couldn’t go anywhere too fancy. So I was thinking of casual places to eat.

That’s when it hit me. I was concentrating for a minute on the blog at hand, and then my mind darted back to dinner. Ooh! I know the perfect place! I thought. O’Connors! That’s where we should go! I bet he hasn’t been there and I could…show him…my…favorite… Yeah, that’s when it hit me. O’Connors is from back home. In MASSACHUSETTS! I forgot where I was for a moment. A long moment. I thought I was in a completely different state where I have never lived while I had these children of mine and where I have never been with my IO! What was I thinking?!

I have no explanation for my temporary loss of faculties other than it’s been a long week and I only got 6 hours of sleep last night. (During which I spent almost an entire hour tracking a tornado warning and moving a mattress into my closet.) So. I could be exhausted. Or very quickly losing my marbles. Either way.

Everyone has been posting pictures and blog entries about breast cancer and breast cancer survivors during October in honor of Breast Cancer Awareness month. Christina over at Soul Aperture is just one of the few amazing women around the blogosphere hosting homes for all of our pretty pink thoughts.

I was talking about Pink Thoughts and breast cancer in general with one of my bloggy friends and she shared the most disturbing rumor with me. Her husband had told her that he had heard doctors were no longer recommending early detection of breast cancer. Or, really, what they were saying was that early detection didn’t necessarily make a difference in a woman’s (or man’s) chance of survival.

!

I mean, just – !

My jaw dropped. I was speechless, my fingers hovering over the keys, trying to think of what the bloody hell was running through those doctors’ minds. Early detection doesn’t make a difference? Suppose a patient called in to her OB/GYN’’s a month after her annual check-up, worried because she had found an unusual lump in her breast that hadn’t changed in the past month. Would her doctor tell her not to worry; they’d check it out in 11 months when she came in for her next annual? It’s hard enough convincing most women to give The Ladies regular exams, why the hell would doctors make this all seem to blase?

My friend and I discussed the topic for awhile, sharing our absolute incredulity at the news. Was it possible that her husband had misheard the news on the TV? But she had heard the same thing from another friend. That made two independent sources. And then I found a story online. (Has anyone seen any others?) So maybe the news stations were just reporting the possibility that early detection might not be as successful as previously believed, but I still think it’s crap. I think it’s irresponsible to the millions of women who should be encouraged to do monthly self-exams. I think it’s hugely disrespectful to the millions of women who have died of breast cancer and to all of their friends and family members who lost them.

Today is the last Thursday in October. Breast Cancer Awareness Month ends on Saturday. But breast cancer will still be here on Sunday; the disease won’t disappear with all of the media coverage. And we’re still going to have to deal with the idiots who promote studies declaring early cancer detection doesn’t help. I think we need to scream back at them: WELL, IT DOESN’T HURT, SO SHUT UP! What do you think, ladies, want to join me? Not just today for Love Thursday, but every day? I knew you’d have our backs.

Happy Love Thursday, everyone. Think Happy Pink Thoughts and go feel up your boobies don’t forget your self-exams.