Sometimes things just hit you; other times you have to spit out the gravel from the subsequent faceplant afterwards. Not that I mind.
Within the next three months, I will be marrying the most amazing person I've ever had the good fortune to meet, and embarking on the more intensive half of this educational journey I started upon the death of my second husband (sometimes, just adding that "second" in there makes me feel like a whore. How delightfully Fundamentalist of me). I'd already given up on the latter even being a possibility due to the enormous competition, but here I am. As long as my nose stays on the grindstone, the dream will be a reality by the time my oldest is 13, just as I originally planned. I worked for it and made plaintive attempts at drawing this reality, but it seems to take outside consent to take root. I try to leave these things open enough so that they will be prevented if it's not meant to happen the way I want, though my willfulness has screwed that up plenty of times in the past. Maybe the sensation of my hoped-for reality drawing back at me wasn't so far off? I guess the next two years will tell.
To say I'm a bit intimidated at the moment is an understatement. Not that that's ever stopped me before... besides. Practically speaking, my hands hurt.
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