I have two-thirds of a front porch, that may not get completely rebuilt before the house gets placed on the market. Comps start three weeks from tomorrow. My advisor is, as always, idiosyncratic. I need to get my stuff together to apply for some jobs for next year. Tomorrow morning, I have the test on my lymph nodes to see if they're cancerous.
But as I put Katie to bed tonight, all that just didn't matter. I stood in her dimly-lit room, her lullaby CD playing the Beatles' "Across the Universe," and she and I looked into each other's eyes. I kissed her outstretched hand. I rocked her in her rocking chair- the chair my mom used to rock me in. I stroked her arm, and she began to fall asleep. I put her in her crib with her favorite blanket. I came out here to write because if anything does happen to me, I want her to know how much I love her.
As we sang "Happy Birthday" to her yesterday, I nearly starting crying. It's just unbelievable that the past year has already passed and that I have such a beautiful, smart baby. But I'm reminded, yet again, that she's what matters. This other stuff is for her to help her have a good life.
So I'm going back to finish reading James Clifford's "On Ethnographic Authority." 'Night.
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