Oh, my dear little librarian. You pile up enough tomorrows, and you'll find you are left with nothing but a lot of empty yesterdays. I don't know about you, but I'd like to make today worth remembering.
- from The Music Man (thanks, Katie!)

Or ...

The cheese dances in the park after the seance.
(Thanks, Rachel. We'll come back to this one in a few months.)

Listmaking has begun in earnest. Panic started two days ago. There is much to do and a rapidly-lessening amount of time to do it in. A rough idea of my itinerary:

• Thursday: 4x4 and Spitty's
• Friday: Red Top Mountain Lodge
• Saturday: Brian and Suzan's?
• Sunday: hotel in Detroit
• Monday: hotel in Detroit
• Tuesday: John and Peggy's
• Wednesday: Jacob and Holly's
• Thursday: Chris's
• Friday: Chris's
• Saturday: Dan's
• Sunday: MY OWN BED

All of those days will be unusual. Different. Not my usual weekday experiences. Amidst the panic and flutter, it's up to me to make the most of these days. See different sights. Laugh, in person, with people who don't see me nearly as often as they'd like. Take pictures. Live without planning. Remember. Remember. Remember. For this, too, will shift from planning to memory faster than I'd like. I will not get as much time as I'd like with anyone.

Treat this furlough as the gift it is.

Pace myself. The end of this trip is as important as the beginning.

Hug everyone.

Make the moments count.

Less sleep. More laughter.

Say the silly maudlin things that will have meaning later. Never, ever let those you love doubt, for a moment, that they matter to you.

If I need time to be embarrassed at being overly demonstrative, there will be plenty of time on the last flight home.