There was a horrific skunk smell outside early, but now it just smells like burned garlic.

Sinner was very funny as well. Very dry sense of humor.

Oooh, Freudian slip?

Stuck was..stuck.

I still struggle with. Some things I've reconciled pretty easily from that picture I had constructed a long time ago -- not being a PTA mom, not being very interested in keeping house -- but a lot of it is still really difficult, despite the writing success. Even that feels like it doesn't matter because I still got started late. But not owning a house by now? Not knowing how to best help my oldest kid? My picture of my life and my actual life were completely different things.

But I've also found things about myself I never knew existed, and taken a lot of pleasure in things I never expected. I think it's just taking time to have those things meet in the middle, or somewhere completely else.

Apple pie. In my survey of local pies for sale, they are the best so far.

Careerwise, I'm a senior whatever. So that means to get more accreditation and more money I need to do something else. I don't think I want to do something else.

However I do want more money. It's a toughie.

Mmm, hatch chile! I really need to book the tickets. I'll admit, I've felt so frazzled for various (mainly financial, but mom pulled a trump card) reasons this year that I thought about missing it, but I'd HATE that. This is MINE. So I'll get on that. Now that I have internut at home again.

Oooh, Freudian slip?

Skinner would say that it was a failure of chained responses in verbal associative learning, but it could be a Freudian slip.

If mom is pulling a trump card and you go to NM, that's okay. We'll understand (and adjust...) No guilt!

Freudian slip, Skinnerian camisole. Psychology often plays in dirty underwear.

For me, I think I'm learning to live letting plans go. And I'm a planner. Even in the midst of a crisis, I have worst case all mapped out and settled to an end I can accept. But I'm learning, barely, to let the routine shift. Doesn't mean I like it. Don't you DARE make my swim impossible, I chafe when plans get proposed in under 24 hours. But I'm getting more accepting (though not of the swim!)

The last few years, hell, sometimes every day, are akin to me climbing on the plane to Prague without knowing if my host knew I was coming (I hyperventilated halfway into the flight and the only thing that calmed me down was a blanket over my head and the window, staring out at the familiar Orion.)

And drunk on electricity, I need to go to bed.

If mom is pulling a trump card and you go to NM, that's okay. We'll understand (and adjust...) No guilt!

Oh no. Mom is all "Oh, don't even worry about that! That's your holiday" and insisting on paying for it. Yeah, we love my mom.

Skinner would say that it was a failure of chained responses in verbal associative learning, but it could be a Freudian slip.

Heh. I actually understood that sentence.

I think I just need to go to bed. My head is throbbing from the combo of crying and wine, and I can't respond to everything you all have said in the last 20 posts or so the way I want (and need) to. It's more appreciated than you will ever know.

I think the next thing I need to figure out is whether I'm truly depressed, and if so, is it situational or clinical depression? (Ironically, this is also butting up against preconceived expectations, because my people are a hardy stock, have survived greater, and most certainly do not get depressed. Again, my issues, they are legion.)

Yes, we do! She's pretty fab. If you went to NM, we might come to you instead...

Though twins and road trips are....well, difficult.