Can I just preface by saying that whole election process wiped me out?! I’m so glad to go days without reading up on politics, I don’t know what to do with myself!

It’s that time of year. The time when I’m most stressed. Writing posts that don’t make sense. Looking at my job, wondering what it all means - which I haven’t been able to do a lot of lately since, in these times, I’m just glad I HAVE a job - and why I am where I am. Traveling thousands of miles in the air, thousands of miles from home. And dodging the slings and arrows of the Spanish Inquisition, seven-year-old girl style, hours before having to jump a plane to be those thousands of miles in the air and away from home.

I’m in New York.

And if you don’t hear from me for an extended period of time - which was the case this past week - it’s because I’m either sick or in New York. And guess what? I WAS BOTH! YAY ME! All I have to say about this past experience with the cootie beast is be glad if you’ve never had Strep throat. Then, if you’ve never had it, be hopeful you never get it when you’re an adult. To say ripping out my throat would probably hurt less than this wretched bacterial infection is putting it mildly. Even then, with the ripping of the throat, I don’t think justice would be served. Hot pokers… no. Razo– no. Yeah, alright, DECAPITATION would be better than suffering with something so awful and unforgiving. That’s right. Cutting off my OWN HEAD is a nicer fate. And if I was the kind of person wanting to be cast in the next installation of the Saw series, I would have totally done it. Words cannot express. I mean, I know I went on a tirade just now, but good words… COHERENT words. Clear, concise words cannot express the seriousness of the matter. Sweet Jeremiah Brown!

Well, that was fun. So I’m in New York. And it’s for work. And Mooter is trying to kill me. I mean, not now that I’m in New York, but before. Before the thousands of miles in the air away from home. This year would have been the first time I didn’t have to go to New York and return the same day as her birthday. Instead, her birthday fell the day before I had to leave. So cake and family and visits from the cousins were had and enjoyed by all in enough time to keep Mommy from feeling guilty and breaking her neck to get home in time. You’d think all would be right with the world. But nooooo. As I’m doing her hair so her father won’t have to the week I’m gone, I finish and wrap her fresh noggin in a silk scarf (the kid is a wild sleeper - her hair won’t stand a chance without protection). Just as I tie the last knot, she goes, “You know you’re going to miss me,” eyes all big and weepy. Then she goes, “And you know you’re going to cry.” And I’m all “nuh-uh”, and then she’s all “Aren’t you going to miss me?” And The Notebook is on, and I’m all “Give Momma a hug” so she won’t see me boo-hoo all over her flannel jammies. And I’m doing the ugly cry. This is the part of parenthood that sucks hard.

But I’m here now. And I’m on my drugs to rid myself of the most horrendous bacterial infections known to the soft palate. And I took pictures with my camera phone because I’m one of those people who doesn’t want everyone knowing they’re a tourist but is SUCH a tourist that I’d take a paper coffee cup just because I saw it in last week’s episode of 30 Rock.

But the pictures will have to wait. So will the details of this trip. And I don’t want to jinx myself, but I’m actually enjoying myself this time around and not nearly as stressed with events and projects. It’s a double-edged sword, though. Feeling busy solidifies the feeling of having a job, while relaxing and not feeling as much pressure makes you wonder if a pink slip is coming. At the same time, maybe we were so prepared, so ready, so organized, so good that we took the stress away from ourselves. Maybe.

Stay tuned.