sullivania

Eat your heart out, Gloria Steinem.

2010-01-15T14:45:00.000-08:00

ERIN

Leo, is Daddy handsome or beautiful?

LEO

Handsome.

ERIN

Am I handsome or beautiful?

LEO

Beautiful.

ERIN

Is Emma handsome or beautiful?

LEO

Beautiful.

ERIN

Is Canela handsome or beautiful?

LEO

Furry.

A Short Play from Guest Playwright, Danno Sullivan

2009-11-10T07:29:00.000-08:00

Driving the Girls to Dinner

a short play

based on a true story.

SETTING: DAD is driving two almost-teenage GIRLS out to dinner to the restaurant that they particularly requested.. The girls chatter in the backseat.

EMMA S: I not going to be a real vegetarian, but I'm going to be a vegetarian who just doesn't eat things like beef and pork.

EMMA D: I know. I just feel so sorry for the little animals. But I couldn't be a real vegetarian like Emma K.

EMMA S: I know. I mean, I'll eat turkey and chicken and things like that.

EMMA D: That's what Emma J does. She's a vegetarian but she eats fish and turkey.

EMMA S: I know. I just feel so sorry for them. So I'm going to be a vegetarian who doesn't eat beef and pork.

EMMA D: Me, too. I'm not going to eat beef and pork.

DAD (wryly): Hey, what are you guys going to order at the barbeque restaurant?

Long silence.

EMMA S: But I'm not going to start till next week.

EMMA D: Yeah, me, too.

NARRATOR: And they enjoyed a very delicious dinner.

END.

In Which Leo Explains Why He Is Incapable of Using an "Inside Voice."

2009-09-12T15:13:00.001-07:00

"Because," he said today, "My voice is made of loud."

First Day of School. Always a Landmark.

2009-09-08T18:07:00.000-07:00

Photo above of Leo on his way to his first day of preschool at The Barn School (which, incidentally, is where my little sister Amanda went too, way back when).

According to all reports, it was a great day. Highlights from the boy himself included the following:

• the zooming racetrack (not exactly clear on what this refers to)
• becoming the proud owner of rest mat #3
• snack time

Please note, also, the hipster outfit, with cargo shorts and super fancy Gap sweatshirt (purchased at a thrift shop, by the way). You can't see it in this picture, but he is also wearing his super favorite stripey shirt, which makes him look a little like Ernie's albino little brother.

It's worth pointing out the clothes if only to note a conversation Leo had with Danno the night before, in which D. asked L. what he wanted to wear on the first day of school. "Would you like to dress up?" asked Danno. "Would you like to wear a tie?"

"No," said Leo definitively, adding, "Children will laugh."

A Striking Resemblance

2009-07-27T07:05:00.000-07:00

After an afternoon of listening to NPR in the car...

Leo: Mommy, what's Obama?
Erin: Mr. Obama is the President.
Leo: What a president?
Erin: Well, the president is the person who makes the rules and makes sure everyone is nice to each other.

(Long pause.)

Leo: So Mr. Obama the guy who say I no stick my head out the window on the highway?
Erin: Yes, Leo, that's right.

(Long pause.)

Leo: Mommy?
Erin: Yes, Leo.
Leo: You look kinda like Mr. Obama.
Erin: Thank you, Leo.

Chef Leo Calls the Shots

2008-09-18T19:05:00.000-07:00

It's been a busy month Chez Sullivan. We've had lovely, lovely guests for many weeks on end and have enjoyed every minute of it. Our most recent visitor was our 16 month-old nephew, William, who stayed with us for a week while my sister Amanda was out of the country on business.

In order to reassure Amanda that we were giving her sweet boy adequate love and care, we kept a blog recording our daily adventures (funatcampsullivan.blogspot.com), which included a series of movies that we made to prove not only our ability to maintain two small children but also our filmmaking prowess.

So I am now officially addicted to iMovie....it's amazing what a few title screens and slow dissolves can do to make a dumb little video clip look good.

Here's a good example. Tonight, I officially Gave Up on cooking dinner and informed both children that we would be going to visit my good friend The Chicken Man, aka Colonel Sanders. Leo thought he'd help out by placing our order in advance, and I got it all on tape.

Enjoy.

Old McSullivan Had a Survey.

2008-06-25T08:27:00.000-07:00

You may or may not know that the Sullivan Estate currently sports one (1) barn on the property. It does not house cows or chickens, but it is home to The Harvard Press, the best small town newspaper that ever was (but that’s for a different posting).

Our barn, though thoroughly rehabbed on the inside, is kind of a mess on the outside, as you can see from the pictures.

Last week, Danno worked with our friend Scott to build a new wall on the lower level because the old one had rotted out completely.

And now it’s time for a facelift. Instead of replacing the shingles, we’ve decided to go with what is called “barn board” – those vertically-oriented boards that you see on, well, barns. It’s a little more historically appropriate for the structure, and we think that it will give it a nice, clean, barn-y look.

So the big question is: what color? We’ve been back and forth with all kinds of schemes (including Leo’s vote for a Thomas-the-Tank-Engine blue), but now it’s time to go to you, the public, for your input on how we should paint the barn.

If you click on this link, you'll see what I did yesterday in lieu of actually meeting my writing deadlines. It’s your chance to click on a few buttons and let us know what you think.

Survey Monkey is a fun, and extremely dangerous, tool. I’m already thinking about all the other kinds of surveys I could design and inflict on my loved ones.

Not to mention the fun I plan to have importing all the data into Excel and making some super-sexy charts and pie graphs (Did you know how much I love data? I really love data.).

(Allen and Norman, I’m relying on you to respond to this survey. I suspect you’re the only two who have RSS’d this blog and ever read it.)

Cowcatchers, Coal Tenders, and Articulated Engines

2008-06-15T17:49:00.000-07:00

I just tucked Leo into bed, and he snuggled into sleep, surrounded by a shiny green tractor, a red pickup truck, and a boxful of approximately 42 Thomas the Tank Engine trains.

This boy loves trains. I mean really loves trains. And I know that he is merely one of many millions of small boys who really, really love trains a whole lot.

I know this because we just spent a day at the Edaville Railroad in Carver, Massachusetts, which was hosting their annual “Day Out With Thomas,” a surreal locomotive love-fest for fans of Thomas the Tank Engine.

Guests have the opportunity to ride on a narrow-gauge train pulled by none other than Thomas himself. There are also photo ops with the Really Useful Engine, as well as a chance to meet Sir Topham Hatt, the “fat controller” of the Sodor railways.

If you don’t have a two year-old boy in your household, the entire paragraph above was probably completely incomprehensible to you. If, however, you do, then you can understand that this event was akin to a nine year-old girl going to see Miley Cyrus. Or a 14 year-old boy, circa 1981, going to see Rush live. Or me, seeing ABBA in concert.

I’m guessing that Edaville Railroad is pretty much always a haven for small boys and train-heads – and I’ll grant you, the site is pretty amazing. It’s a beautiful, pastoral setting, all sweeping green fields and cranberry bogs, with a truly stunning old brick building that must have at one time been a factory of some sort but has since been rehabbed as a stationhouse/gift shop/activity center.

In addition to the narrow-gauge train ride, there are a few other train-themed kiddie rides as well as some decommissioned train cars and cabooses that are perfect for little ones to clamber on and play in. There are also just enough “big kid” rides (read: nausea inducers, like the Tilt-O-Whirl and the Scrambler) to placate the older siblings who go along to be good sports (Emma, who, poor child, knows more lyrics to Thomas songs than she does to the Jonas Brothers these days).

Anyway, the place was chock full of teeny tiny testosterone that day, and Leo was practically jumping out of his skin by the time we boarded the train. He stood on his seat the whole way, pointing out the sights as we wound through miniature villages and slightly odd cardboard cutouts of indigenous Massachusetts wildlife.

We were able to stop for the requisite “pose with Thomas” shot, but Leo seemed less focused on Thomas himself than all of the wonders available to him that day. He loved every ride, every opportunity to climb around on old trains – he even spent a good twenty minutes happily running in circles around one of those strange, mushroom-shaped outdoor speakers that was piping out one Thomas song after another.

All round, money well spent. Except for Sir Topham Hatt…I would say that was a definite disappointment from my perspective. I was hoping for a jolly, rotund fellow with a top hat and a badly faked English accent, bellowing out “All aboard, old chap!” to all comers. But alas, it was just a sullen teen in a puffy suit and fake head who had such a hard time seeing where he was going that he needed two equally sullen teenage “handlers” to help him walk twenty feet from the station house to the gazebo. The resulting lopsided shuffle made it look like the poor guy had had a lobotomy.

Leo’s love affair with Thomas has had us all thinking about childhood obsessions of late. Emma had them too, and in observing Leo’s “journey” with Thomas, she has had fun recalling her own phases – Teletubbies, Polly Pockets, Strawberry Shortcake. Through one lens, you could look at that list, shake your head sadly, and comment on what poor little television marketing victims both of my children have been.

But for Leo, and for Emma both, I see these obsessions as the first time they showed a focused, continued interest in anything beyond the immediate necessities of food, and diapers, and Mommy and Daddy, and sleep. It signaled the first real forays into imaginative play and new worlds where, sometimes, mommies and daddies don’t always have to be the first priority.

One key element of any childhood obsession is its transience. I remember thinking that Emma would always, always love the Teletubbies – and Dipsy in particular. And though she’ll still stop and watch a Tubby rerun all the way through to the end, it’s with an affection for its kitschy, campy irrelevance to her life.

So I’m sure that at some point, Leo will stop drawing trains at every opportunity, and the number of wheeled objects that end up in bed with him every night will gradually decrease.

But for now, it’s all about Thomas. And Percy. And Henry. And Gordon. And Mavis. And Skarloey. And all the rest.

Been So Long

2008-02-19T19:18:00.000-08:00

Hi, Everyone. It's been many months of adjustments and settling in and digging snow, and digging more snow.

Fall here was stunning. Winter has been lovely too, in its own way, and my triceps are now nicely defined after many hours of shoveling snow and chipping ice. We have now reached the months of Melt, Mud, and Madness, with a basement full of runoff, a walkway six inches deep with gooey muck, and a two year-old boy who hasn't seen a playground in I don't know how long. They tell me spring is coming eventually, and for my own sanity I must believe them.

This latest post is prompted by this video, which I hope you will enjoy. Leo sings, if not on key, then certainly with gusto.

We're Here!

2007-07-18T21:18:00.000-07:00

Arrived today, late afternoon. Town is lovely, house is terrific. It would seem that my mom has missed her calling as a contractor - I can't believe how different it looks since we were here back in April.
Real live pictures to follow soon, I promise (though I must say this 1905 postcard isn't so far from the way the town looks today).
When are you all coming to visit?

Why We Didn't Stop for the Night in Indiana and Had to Drive all the Way to the Ohio Border, by Erin Sullivan

2007-07-16T21:49:00.000-07:00

Because the baton twirlers' convention took all the rooms.
Seriously.

Danger Boy

2007-07-08T22:13:00.000-07:00

Despite Adam Janeiro's assertion that Leo's secret superhero identity is "Orange Stripe," I firmly believe that Leo is actually Danger Boy, He Who Is Drawn to That Which Is Sharp, Steep, Treacherous, or Just Plain Filthy.

Supporting point #1: Photos above are from recent jaunt to lovely playground near my sister's house in Houston, Texas. Note that Leo completely ignores charming slides, bridges, and other fetching tools of gross motor development. Instead, the name of the game is MUD. Hands in mud, face in mud, whole body in mud. Muddy, muddy, goodness.

Supporting point #2: Danger Boy can now enter and exit crib at will. With one elegant swing of his mighty leg, he can be out of his cage and in business in less than one minute. Consider my horror and fear. According to Sullivan family lore, Danno too was something of an escape artist, and his poor mother had to cover the crib with an old fisherman's net (hence Danno's inexplicable love for all things salty).

How to keep Leo in his crib? That is today's question. And if I discover the magic key to restrain Danger Boy, does that make me a supervillain?

The River Wild

2007-07-06T21:53:00.000-07:00

A high point of our trip to San Marcos was most definitely our “float” down the San Marcos River. If you’ve never done one before, a float is exactly what it sounds like. You get in an inner tube and you float down the river. According to my expert estimates, the river runs at about four miles per hour, so you float at a pretty decent clip, enjoy the beautiful scenery, and link up with your friends and family as you bob down the river.

Sounds pretty pleasant. And so it was for us. For the first half.

At the beginning of the trip, Danno and I had left Leo at a waypoint along the river in the care of Danno’s mom as well his uncle Don and aunt Leslie Anne. They had very kindly offered to watch our young adventurer while we enjoyed the river. They also generously took my sister’s newborn, which meant that we had the bonus of my super fun sister on the trip.

So off we go. Happy floaters all of us, happy Emma, happy nephews, happy brothers and sisters, happy parents having a pleasant break from labor-intensive young children. Happy, happy, happiness.

After about 30 minutes of delightful floating, we arrive at the waypoint to check in on Leo, who also seems happy enough. Weather is beautiful, river is shallow, current is gentle.

Danno suggests, “Let’s bring Leo along for the rest of the ride!”

Erin says, “Sure! Why not?”

Can you predict the rest?

The minute we get Leo into the inner tube with Danno and set off down the river, the skies darken and the clouds let loose. Big rain. Really big rain. Leo thinks that a truly awful trick has been played on him and he starts screaming bloody murder.

Meanwhile, my nephew Patrick has floated into the weeds and is paddling desperately towards the shore. Amanda has managed to get Emma and my other nephew Brendan up onto a little island in the middle of the river. Danno gets Leo onto the island, too, and I paddle out to bring Patrick in. Three adults and four children huddle pitifully on this island, sheltered by the one inner tube we have that has a bottom. It’s like a very large, very round, very yellow sombrero, and at that moment I love it with all my heart and soul.

The rain lets up, a little. We all agree that it’s probably fine for Amanda to go on ahead with the three older kids. Like pioneers splitting up to look for cover from a coming storm, we wave them off into the distance. Leo is soaking wet, clutching onto me like a three-toed sloth. Danno is holding the Sombrero of Life. Our happy, happy float has left us stranded on an island in the middle of a raging river in the pouring rain.

I hope you realize that at this point I’m exaggerating. Of course, this is how I felt at the moment, but please picture this. The “island” is actually a manmade chunk of land that is connected to a nicely paved walkway, which leads to an enormous dry pavilion that is part of a perfectly kid-friendly park.

At some point, I peek out from the Sombrero and observe this walkway. Again, we feel like we’re the intrepid pioneers fording the river as we make our way across to the pavilion. Safe beneath its beams, we huddle and whimper for a while longer while we figure out what to do next. As far as we know, the river goes downstream for easily another four miles before the float ends. We’re dripping wet, with no cellphones or money, and with a soaked and sobbing toddler to boot.

Once again, the pioneer imagery rears its ugly head. I say to Danno bravely, “You go on ahead, dear. Go on, and find some help. See if you can find the end of the river, locate our beloved daughter, and send for someone to come get me. I’ll be fine here with our son.”

(Are you enjoying the melodrama?)

In the moment, Danno responds, “Are you sure you’ll be fine here?”

I sigh bravely. “Yes. I can do this.”

And Danno marches off, the Sombrero balanced jauntily on his manly shoulders.

Less than a minute later, he returns. Then end of the river is no more than 200 yards ahead. There is a gazebo, a shuttle to take us back to the parking lot, and, best of all, our daughter safely on shore with her cousins and her auntie.

But the adventure isn’t over yet. We march to the river’s edge only to realize that the shuttle is on the other side of the river, and somehow we will have to cross the river (which actually is raging at this point) in order to get a ride home.

Danno hops in to gauge the depth of the river, and Amanda rushes in from the other side, gesturing madly for us to Stay Where We Are! The River Is Dangerous!

So Danno sends me off to go find shelter to keep the baby dry (because it is still raining pretty heavily) while he figures out how to get us across the mighty San Marcos.

I walk up the hill to the restrooms, where I wait for a while under the awning. Then I peek a little further down the path and see….yes, a bridge!

In less than 30 seconds, I’m across the bridge and reunited with my loved ones. Poor Danno is still wading across the river, trying to find a way to bring his family across to the Promised Land.

All in all, it was one ludicrous anticlimax after another. But all things considered, I must say that I’m thankful that the end to our dramatic story is so boring.

The Other Woman

2007-07-06T21:52:00.001-07:00

I wanted to take a moment to acknowledge the other Very Important Character in the story of the Sullivans’ travels. SHE is Clara, the GPS system with the plummy English accent. Back when we were still planning this trip, I innocently suggested to Danno that we purchase a GPS system that could operate on his phone. Little did I know what a force she would become in our lives.

In our own, high-tech way, I guess you could say we “met cute.” Danno installed her on the phone, and then as a family we all selected the options that made her who she is today. Danno, Emma, and I all agreed that yes, we liked her best as a female, and that she certainly sounded more trustworthy as a citizen of the British Empire than as an American. Preferences were selected, and Emma dubbed her “Clara.”

Our first journey with Clara was a little jaunt down to San Diego this spring. She was a quiet little thing back then, politely pointing out the nearby Starbuckses (is that a plural?) and announcing that we had reached our destination. We were charmed by her quaint directives to “take the motorway” and even grateful at her non-judgmental ways when we got lost. Upon taking a wrong turn, she would quietly ask us to “turn around when possible,” and, ever chipper, guide us gently on our way.

We have continued to use her extensively on our trip east. She is incredibly useful for gauging distances between cities, estimating travel time, and even anticipating traffic snarls. This is all incredibly helpful, and I am very grateful.

But did you see All About Eve? Remember how nice Eve was to Bette Davis, how kind and gentle and sweet? All that helpfulness just hid a kniving, ambitious go-getter who would let nothing stand in her way in her drive to reach the top.

So I know the score, Clara. I know that the minute we get sloppy and let you take over you are going to take us down and leave us stranded at some creepy moss-covered gas station.

Just know that I’m certainly not letting down my guard anytime soon. AND I’ve got the Michelin Man watching my back.

San Marcos, Texas

2007-07-06T21:47:00.000-07:00

I had intended to post a little more regularly than this, but it would seem that traveling, sleeping baby time, and internet access haven’t been as well coordinated as I might have hoped.

So where have we been? Driving, driving, driving. It actually hasn’t been that excessive – probably only about eight hours each day. In cross-country-trip terms that’s not so much at all – but with Leo in his carseat, it can seem like an eternity.

It’s a little pathetic to admit that our trip is scheduled completely around the needs of an eighteen month-old, but it’s true. We can usually get away with peaceful driving time in the morning, and then a big meaty nap for about an hour or two. Then, of course, a lunch stop for us all. After that, the afternoon can be iffy. Emma and I have become the Julie McCoys of baby travel, alternating in-seat LEGO experiences with dramatic readings of Trucks! and sing-alongs to an odd CD we have that claims to be karaoke children’s songs but actually features screeching minors on every single track. I plan to save this CD to use as punishment in some way for people who bug me.

Lest you think our world is completely crew-cab based, let me assure you that we have, in fact, enjoyed driving through the Great American West. It’s been amazing to watch the change in scenery, from the barren scrubby-ness of Arizona to the lush, green, wet beauty of the nearly-flooded Texas hill country. We spent our second night in Santa Rosa, New Mexico (just outside Albuquerque) and our third night in Wichita Falls, Texas. Not much to report on either stop, really, except to note the phenomenon that occurs on any long-distance trip. The first few hundred miles seem Very Far Indeed. And then, you slip into this semi-conscious state (not if you’re driving, of course), where the miles and the hours fly by, and suddenly another 300 miles seems like nothing at all.

Now we’re in San Marcos, Texas, where we celebrated the Fourth with many Sullivan relatives: Danno’s aunt and uncle, who live here, Danno’s sister Kelly and her children, and Danno’s brother Gregg and his son. Imagine the delight of four pre-adolescent children, all boys except for Emma, spending the holiday in Texas, where fireworks are plentiful and legal. Sparklers, smoke bombs, and other deadly toys were in abundance, and Leo was in Danger Heaven.

Luckily for me, my mom and stepfather joined us, too, along with my sister Amanda, who took the time to drive out from Houston with her two month-old son, Will. After this stop, we’re actually going to convoy back with her and stay at her place for a couple of days. For homeless people, we’re doing a pretty good job of mooching off our loved ones.

First Stop: Flagstaff, AZ

2007-07-01T22:39:00.000-07:00

The Great Trek has begun. Today we traveled about 500 miles to Flagstaff, Arizona, and I am happy to report that all children and adults behaved themselves beautifully. Thanks to the good advice of our good friend Caryn, we avoided the unbelievably hot I-10 and instead are traveling along the mostly hot I-40. We enjoyed some pretty incredible desert vistas, including a surreal but very entertaining stop at the town of Oatman, AZ, an old mining town that is now a delightfully cheesy tourist stop, complete with daily gunfights and "Fry an Egg on the Sidewalk" competitions. We ended our day in Flagstaff, a beautiful old town that seems to be lousy with Craftsman-era buildings.

Emma has been a terrific traveler so far, easygoing and completely in the spirit of our trip. Leo vacillates between thinking that he's in heaven and in hell. Hell of course is being strapped into the Chair of Despair for nine hours at a stretch. But Heaven is unlimited fried food, sugar drinks, and a sister who will read "Brown Bear, Brown Bear, What Do You See?" ten times in a row without a fuss.

Attached: Sullivan children in Oatman, Arizona. Emma is trying to avoid having her shoes eaten by a wild burro. Leo is proving that yes, his head really is in the 75th percentile for children of his age.

Prodigal Dog

2007-06-18T21:59:00.001-07:00

We're killing the fatted kibble. Miracle of miracles, Canela is home after nine very long dog-free days. We came home last Saturday night to find the gate ajar and the backyard empty, and we feared the worst: that our sweet dog had trotted off to find greener pastures and a nicer family who would buy her Iams instead of the generic dreck from Ralphs. It was actually pretty heartbreaking to envision moving without bringing her along, and I was particularly sad for Emma, who has had Canela in her life longer than she hasn't.

So this morning Danno got a call from a guy living over on Western to let us know that he had found a small dog and was calling the number he found on the tags. The poor thing (Canela, not Danno) had squeezed herself into their backyard and was cowering in one of their rooms when Danno arrived. Danno brought her home, and when I got back to the house, Canela literally threw herself into my lap and whimpered for the next fifteen minutes until I could calm her down.

This third child of ours is pretty disgusting. She has fleas. She eats food off the floor. She scratches at the back door like a crazed beast whenever she thinks she's being ignored. And she won't even play a good game of fetch. But I love her dearly, and tomorrow I'm taking her to the doggie spa for a flea bath and to get her doggie lo-jack installed.

Goodbye to Shoveltooth

2007-06-17T08:48:00.001-07:00

Many nice and bittersweet goodbyes this week.

At The Willows, a graduation ceremony to end all graduation ceremonies. First, an incredible student performance of Guys and Dolls. Then, a ceremony filled with lovely reminiscences and genuine feeling. You'd think that it would be the teachers who got all sentimental and teary (we did), but this time around I was amazed to watch how moved the kids were, too. They really seemed to get it - how much they were loved by the community, how meaningful it was that most of them had been together since their DK years, how wonderful it was that they were moving on to new and exciting adventures. I watched one boy (and I never would have predicted this one) become completely unglued on the stage, overwhelmed by the emotion of the event. Later, after the ceremony, one of the dads came up to me and said, "I never realized how much their hearts were sewn together." What a lovely way to say it.

Then, last night, an equally lovely party back here at the neighborhood. Caryn, our next door neighbor, put on a true feast and had all of our "Card Night" friends over. Danno and I marveled afterwards at what a terrific group of people it was. You wouldn't necessarily think that so many people would have so much in common based on proximity alone, but I would say that D. and I feel more connected to this crowd of folks than any other non-family members we know. Is it something about this neighborhood and these funky old houses that leads a certain kind of person to move here? Who knows.

Attached: a slightly weird but truly wonderful picture of me. Susannah, the art teacher at The Willows, got a real photo from Danno and then broke it up into a grid and had one child shade in each part of the grid without knowing what the whole picture would ultimately look like. Except for the shovel teeth, I think it's a fantastic likeness!

The Night Before It All Begins

2007-06-12T21:56:00.000-07:00

So. I guess that I've officially jumped on the bl0g-wagon. The Los Angeles Sullivans are almost not the Los Angeles Sullivans anymore, which is to say that in two weeks we are packing up our home, and moving east, reverse-pioneer style, from big-city California to small-town Massachusetts. There are many changes in store for our little family, most of which will be good, and I thought it would be nice to document it all as it happens -- partly for me and my family, partly for dear friends who we'll be leaving behind in L.A, maybe for new east coast friends to come who for some reason might take an interest in this whole silly process.

Tomorrow is the last day of school at The Willows - the wonderful school where I've worked for the past ten years, and where my daughter has attended school since DK. I've been anticipating this day for months now - trying to imagine how it's going to feel to say goodbye to students, to colleagues, even to routines that have become an integral part of my everyday existence. It's funny: for all that I keep telling people that I'm moving "back home," I realize that I've lived here for longer than I've lived anywhere else. I'm so excited about what's ahead, but I'm very, very sad to say goodbye.

So here we go. Must focus on all the good things to come. Must not cry like big fat baby when people say nice things to me tomorrow.