Okay. So I am writing like crazy about marketing strategies, sales, and service. And the scary thing is that I get it. I really, really get it. It's like this weird puzzle I've figured out. And the greatest distraction on earth from the reality that my entire future hangs suspended like some teetering aerialist.
You know, I was watching the ski jumpers tonight on the Olympics, and it just made me want to throw up. What sort of insane person just hurls their bodies five stories into the air? And then I thought, this is sort of what this is like. Throwing myself out there, wriggling around like I know what I'm doing, and hoping to God I don't smash into a wall or, worse, land on my head. Metaphoric thinking. It'll get you every time.
Did I mention I got a gift certificate to Politics and Prose for Valentine's Day? (In addition to the pound of chocolate which has been gone for almost a week now.) Me, I'm the thoughtful type. I registered P in a St. Patrick's Day 10K.
Esmee can say "elevator," and Kicky has decided to be a "vermician" when she grows up. You know, so she can do magic.