In an effort to be more social, I agreed to participate in the first annual cookie exchange at work this morning. I've never done an cookie exchange before, and that fact alone didn't bode well for my social phobia, perfectionist tendencies, and leeriness about eating food from other people's kitchens. But I persevered. My grandmother recommended her favorite cookie recipe (which is actually a cake recipe--cut into bars). Last night I whipped up a delightful batch and licked the icing bowl clean...after I spread the bulk of it on the cookies. I wrapped everything in some plastic bowls and topped them with a Christmas bow. All was well until I was 1 dozen cookies short. At 10:45 last night I drove 7 miles to the nearest store (Walgreens) and then drove another mile to the Winn-Dixie for powdered sugar. I washed dishes as I listened to Letterman, and I was finally in bed around 12:30. And up again at 4:45. The cookie exchange was DELIGHTFUL. I laughed as I sipped black coffee

I'm feeling just a tad bit overwhelmed right now. So much is going on that I'm struggling to keep it all going.

I recently read in a biography of Thomas Jefferson that he taught himself Spanish with a copy of Don Quixote and a Spanish-English dictionary. I figured if it worked for him it would work for me, and I at least have a basic working knowledge of the pronunciation, simple vocabulary, and grammar structure from my 2 years of Spanish in college. So last weekend during my weekly library trip, I picked up some books in Spanish. I have read "The Berenstain Bears y la Ninera" and "Nancy Elegante" this week. I thoroughly enjoyed them. I'm not sure I've learned more words through this method, but I have seriously worked on thinking in Spanish while I'm reading. That was a tough job. If nothing else, it's a great excuse to read some of my favorite children's books. This has also been a good exercise for me as a teacher. I think I'll scrounge up a book in German or French this week and see what it's like to attempt a completely "blind" rea

Hmm. I just spent the last 30 minutes composing and debating and erasing a brief update. I guess I wasn't suppose to share that even though it's been a long time since anyone's heard from me. And I still have nothing of value to say. My mind is spinning like a slot machine these days, and I never know if it will stop on the cherry 7's or the suffocating depression that has me in it's grip. Um, yeah, it's that bad. But I knew I was here in this miserable waiting place the moment I realized I was a bit too afraid to share what's really weighing on me. I want to, but I can't, mostly because I haven't been able to distance myself enough from it to get an objective view. It's moments like this when I miss my therapist and my dear friends who know that sometimes the best piece of advice/support you can get is the silent presence of warm body who loves you.