So, we have this dog (Telly).
He is a little lazy and crazy, is very water friendly, and thinks he is a lapdog.
He also loves yogurt.
I've also been on a rampage with Ancestry.dot.com, finding relatives left and right. And up and down. It's been fairly entertaining, but I am at the point where I've hit a dead end, because all the records are overseas.
Speaking of overseas, it's only two and a half months until we go to Ireland. Just a little while ago, I was telling you it was four months.
We have our plane tickets, and our train tickets. We have our B&B in Galway City. We need to book our car. We are planning on winging it for the second half of the trip--yes, you heard me, the Plann-y McPlannersons are going to fly by the seat of their pants for part of this trip.
We're planning on leaving Galway and going to Limerick to see my family, and after that, who knows. All we know is that about four days after that, our train leaves from Killarney to go back to Dublin, so we need to be on that. That leaves us the option of driving around Dingle, staying in Limerick, going to Killarney, going to Kenmare, going around the Beara Peninsulas, whatever, as long as we end up back in Killarney at the end of those four days.
I can't wait to go back.
I had a long comforting talk with Vor on Friday over dinner about jobs generally, my job specifically, bigger and better higher education, job switching, babies and future plans generally.
Basically, I am stressed out to the point where caring about work is painful, and Sundays have become a day of dread because I have to go back into the office. I thought this was because of my job, specifically, but no, it's probably just what comes with being a lawyer. Though really, I'm sure my job content does not help. At all.
That in itself is a painful thought, because I worked my ass off to get this degree, and now I'm wondering if this is what I want. It's certainly not what I always dreamed of--that was getting my PhD and becoming a professor (which is a desire that I still have not kicked).
I wish I could say this was the stress of being uncertain that I am capable, of being afraid of public speaking, of making mistakes or getting reamed over the ones I've made. It isn't. It's the stress of doing a job that I am not sure I am cut out for.
I love my job, but it stresses me out. Makes sense, right? (Or not)
Thank God I have Vor. He is husband, sounding board, encourager, critic, practicalist, and dreamer all in one. I feel like I've had my brains unwound and put back in order.
Anything you want to hear about? I'm tired of yammering away with no purpose.
Blood Work and Other Recipes
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