I am currently watching the completed 29-page draft of my last paper churning itself out of my printer. Ahh, the satisfaction!

Now I have to read it... Hmpf.

Page 3. Page 5. Page 9. 11. 13. I've just hit the top of page 16. The gruelling paper-writing process at work. Always painful, and yet this one seems to be going a bit faster than most, perhaps because I actually have an interest in the subject-matter (brothers & sisters in Victorian periodicals). My determination to be finished on Tuesday has, thanks to Layla's decision to finsh hers tomorrow, shifted into a higher gear. I'm going to finish this, darn it all! And then I'm going to enjoy my summer!!

I can taste the freedom. I can see the goal posts. I can just make out the goal posts.

And I'm procrastinating by blogging.

I have a picture of my Dad and me on my desk. We're sitting side by side on a huge fluffy white rug in the middle of our old living room at 5 Hillside; I'm not quite sure how old I was. I love it because it sums up so much about my relationship with my Dad. Behind us, there's a toy kitchen set: a proper little girl's dream. But it is abandoned for a book, which lies on the floor beside my Dad. There he is, legs outstretched in front of him and ankles crossed, hands tucked under his knees. There I am, in the same position, looking slightly off-camera. I want to be just like my Daddy, and, although he's looking directly at the camera and not at me, there is a hint of amusement on his face: he loves his little girl.

I still want to be just like my Dad when I grow up.

All eyes are on North Carolina (oh... and Indiana) as we roll into yet another one of what CNN refers to as those days that could change the state of this Presidential Primary Race once and for all. I'm not that deluded, but I have been caught up in the hype. Despite missing Michelle Obama's Durham talk due to my week-from-hell of sickness and IV needles, and even though someone thoughtlessly forgot to issue my invitation to the RTP invitation-only event Barack held in Durham today (he apparently stopped by a local cafe unannounced and bought everyone pound cake. Give me pound cake as an incentive over a few cents of gas relief any day!), I did get back on my feet enough to join in the spirit and do my part to get out the vote today. Anne Marie, Maggie, and I went door-to-door in North Durham sporting cheerful smiles and Obama door "putters" (no... not door "hangers," since they have no holes for hanging, we were told. These are door "putters") and braved the "BEWARE DOG!" signs for a good cause. A life-list moment.


In other news, my car is now a North Carolina car. It feels much more at home. It even behaved and left its little check engine light off long enough to get itself a nice fancy inspection sticker in the corner of its windscreen. I'm proud.