I would be shocked if anyone was still here, but I feel like this needs to be part of this blog, anyway:

Friends, I survived my defense last Friday, and I am now Dr. Luckybuzz.

Wow. Wow. Wow.

Some small random revisions and I think I can get it submitted in the next week, and then…wow. Hard to even imagine life post-dissertation.

And I miss this blog, so maybe I’ll pick it back up…


GB passed the Bar!


I checked the results and promptly burst into tears.

I am so freaking proud of him!

OMG. I have a new obsession. And yes, it’s food-related…what did you expect?


are seriously The Shit. Blueberry-Lemon! Strawberry-Lemon! Blueberry-Strawberry! Strawberry-Orange! It’s like they did a focus group of just me and came up with these amazing little fuckers.

I just bought my second box of them and had two…I’m trying to keep it to two a day, but I could seriously eat the whole freaking box right now. I wonder if there’s somewhere I could buy these in bulk?

I did it! I got the chapter draft finished (or, let’s say “acceptable”) and sent off to the (New)Advisor. Who, it turns out, really does rock: I sent him the chapter last night before I went to bed, and woke up to an email saying he’d already rewritten my recommendation letter and *dropped it off* at my department.

So–I know that two of my letters for this are in, and they’ve received my application and chapters. The (Ex)Advisor swears he’ll have his letter there on time, but the fellowship actually only requires two, so I think–barring anything bizarre or unforeseen–I can pretty much count on having this money for next year.


I have this odd, unfamiliar feeling. What is that? Oh, wait…it’s accomplishment!

Proof that GB and I are blessed with the Best. Friends. Ever:

We have (free!) tickets to San Francisco in March!

*I’m including all my friends, in all the various places around the country, in the Best Ever group. It continually amazes me that GB and I have somehow found the most extraordinary people imaginable in every place we’ve lived. We are some lucky fuckers.


Trader Joe’s blackberry preserves on buttered California sourdough toast.

So. Freaking. Good.*

*Okay, it’s not a super-chilled dirty martini.  Or even a super-spicy Absolut Peppar bloody mary with those awesome marinated green beans. But it’s still pretty good.**

**But now I really, really want a yummy afternoon-style adult beverage. Sigh.  113 days until my estimated due date. (BUT! 167 days already done! Which is a lot of not-drinking already down, for someone like me. Did I mention that, before getting pregnant, I would estimate that about one week was the longest I’d gone without an alcoholic beverage of some sort in, oh, about 18 years? So yeah. Go me.)***

***And yes, I do ascribe to the “alcohol in moderation is fine” theory of pregnancy. I just can’t seem to get into the occasional glass of wine or beer. I’ve probably had two or three (small, because I’m a paranoid freak) glasses of wine so far, in the past five months. The problem with wine is that I don’t enjoy it in moderation. Well, that would be my problem with alcohol in general, actually. But with the weather like it is now (gorgeous!), I suspect I’ll probably–gasp!–drink a beer or a hard cider in the next few weeks.  Mmmmm. That’ll be lovely.)****

****You know, I really thought I would be the hell-yeah-I’ll-have-regular-drinks kind of pregnant woman. I’ve surprised myself by not being able to get through a whole beer (I had three sips of one the other night and gave it to GB) or a glass of wine. It’s probably a damn good thing that I’m steering clear of the hard liquor altogether, though. That would be where my real vices lie.

Anyway, yeah, the toast was really good.

An email from this morning informs me that I have not been a smoker for three years as of today. They also inform me that I have been smoke-free for 1095 days, have NOT smoked 16,431 cigarettes (ewwww), and have saved over $4000 and over 4 months of my life. Whoohoo!

Happy 3 year Quit-iversary to me! Dudes, three freaking years. That’s hard to believe. I’ll tell ya, you never met anyone who loved smoking as much as I did. Loved. It. Loved the whole package of it. The image. The lighters (I have some awesome Zippos). The rolling-my-own. The going outside to smoke (and getting welcome reprieves from many, many things). The sharing of cigarettes with hot drunk friends. To this day, the taste of cigarettes and booze on lips I’m kissing makes me all weak in the knees.

But you know what? While I’ve missed it, there hasn’t been a single day since I quit that I regret quitting.

(When I told the (Ex)Advisor that I was pregnant, the first thing he said was “Good thing you’d already quit smoking, huh?” He remembers my quit well–it was during the time I was studying for my general exams. Dumb timing, but it worked out anyway, and the (Ex)Advisor actually announced my successful quitting at a department gathering, at the same time he announced my successful passing of generals. It was nice.)

So yeah. Go me!

/shameless self-promotion

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